Deer-child, to the border go!
Cunning as the Wolf-pack now,
To no overlord we bow!
Lest some lord our freedom blight,
Brothers of the Wolves, we fight!
Brave, the great Cat guards his lair,
Teeth to rend and claws to tear.
Lead the battle, first to last,
Children of the Cat, hold fast!
Hawk and Cat, and Wolf and Deer,
Keep the plains now safe from fear,
Brothers, sisters, side by side,
To defend our home, we ride!
(Although Tarma seldom mentioned the fact, her people have a four-aspected male deity to compliment the female. This song gives Him equal time with Her.)
The East wind is calling, so come ride away,
Come follow the Rover into the new day,
Come follow the Maiden, the Dark Moon, with
me,
The new year's beginning, come ride out and see.
Come follow the Rover out onto the plains,
Come greet the new life under sweet, singing
rains,
Come follow the Maiden beneath vernal showers,
For where her feet passed you will find fra-grant flowers.
The South wind, oh hear it, we ride to the call We follow the Guardian, the Lord of us all, We follow the Warrior, the strong to defend, The New Moon to fighters is ever a friend.
With summer comes fighting, with summer, our
foes;
And how we must thwart them the Guardian
knows.
The Warrior will give them no path but retreat,
The Warrior and Guardian will bring their defeat.
Come follow the West wind, the wind of the
fall,
The Mother will cast her cloak over us all. Come follow the Hunter out onto the plain, Return to the Clan with the prey we have slain.
For now comes the autumn, the time of the
West,
The season of Full Moon, of harvest, then rest.
So take from Her hands all the fruits of the
fields,
And thank Him for all that the autumn-hunt
yields.
The North wind, the cold wind, the wind of the
snow,
Tells us, it is time winter pastures to go.
The Guide knows the path, and the Crone shows
us how --
The Old Moon, and time for returning is now.
And if, with the winter, should come the last
breath,
And riding, we ride out of life into death,
The Wise One, the Old Moon, will ease our last
load,
The Guide will be waiting to show the new road.
(Leslac)
Deep into the stony hills, miles from keep or
hold
A troupe of guards comes riding with a lady and
her gold --
Riding in the center shrouded in her cloak of fur,
Companioned by a maiden and a toothless, aged
cur.
Three things see no end, a flower blighted ere it
bloomed,
A message that was wasted, and a journey that is doomed.
One among the guardsmen has a shifting, rest --
less eye,
And as they ride he scans the hills that rise
against the sky.
He wears both sword and bracelet worth more
than he can afford,
And hidden in his baggage is a heavy, secret
hoard.
Of three things be wary, of a feather on a cat,
The shepherd eating mutton and the guardsman
that is fat.
From ambush, bandits screaming charge the
packtrain and its prize,
And all but four within the train are taken by
surprise,
And all but four are cut down as a woodsman
fells a log,