Ellen Datlow - The Beastly Bride

“No, not yet,” Kataya had answered.

“That’s good, for it’s much better to have some tsirnika years before children — the children will be stronger and the mothers healthier.”

Now, as her tsirnikoela approaches, Kataya curses the day she decided to keep the Bruin’s gift and acquire a real, strong tsirnika . She remembers the horror stories about tsirnikoela that the old men spread by evening fires, stories the women meet with snorts of contempt, yet still they fill Kataya with fear.

But it must be done.

Kataya walks toward the commanding voice of Akka Ismia, toward the familiar gathering place of the village, which looks foreign to her now, almost menacing. As she enters the crowd, Akka Ismia is still speaking.

“For as clay spreads out in water, so is the ability of tsirnika spread out in the tribe, spread out and thinned. As the blood of the Brown-furred One would spread in water, so has the gift of the heavenly Bruin spread out and thinned. And that is why we ourselves have to strengthen it.”

The other women of the tribe stand back as Kataya approaches Akka Ismia, looking her straight in the face. There are no men in sight. The women carry a big leather container and a small basket made of birch bark.

As Akka Ismia recites the traditional story, two women, Aella and Mitar, come forward, carrying the big leather container between them. They put it down, grip Kataya’s clothes, and undress her, leaving only her birch bark shoes. Kataya is startled when they open the container. Inside is a red-brown, black-spotted swarm of ladybugs, or bloodsisterbugs, churning about in the container. It must have taken the whole of the summer so far to collect so many.

“Only when it’s a proper kind of year, only then can we gather enough sisterbugs for tsirnikoela ,” Akka Ismia explains. Kataya realizes two things at once: that the shield of the bloodsisters, domed and spotted, resembles the vault of heaven; and that it’s true there weren’t as many ladybugs every summer, but this summer there had been enough to cover their favorite places in red. The ladybugs are red-brown like blood, which gives them their second name.

Kataya stands naked, shivering, as Aella and Mitar lift wooden cudgels and give the mass of ladybugs a crushing blow. There’s crackling and rustling, and a sharp smell reaches Kataya’s nostrils. She remembers playing with bloodsisterbugs as a child, and how they left small orange-red drops on her skin if she poked them carelessly. Now the leather container is filling with a red and black paste of ladybug shells and wings, but also with that sharp excretion.

It takes a long while to crush all the bloodsisterbugs — but for Kataya, the moment when Aella and Mitar straighten their backs seems to come all too soon. Akka Ismia steps close to her and, taking a handful of the sticky crushed stuff from the container, spreads the paste on Kataya’s neck and breasts and behind each ear. She then signs to Aella and Mitar to do the same, and soon all the other women have joined in, except Arrah, who holds the birch bark basket. They cover Kataya with the crushed reddish spread, rhythmically rubbing it everywhere, especially on places where her skin is thinnest and the veins show dimly through.

As the women recite the ritual words, Kataya is covered completely with bloodsisters. She is feeling giddy, her skin tingles, and suddenly all sounds are enormously loud.

Arrah steps forward and presents the birch bark basket. Inside is the cap of a mushroom, bright red and spotted with white. Another image of the vault of heaven.

“Get the boy,” Kataya hears Akka Ismia say, as though from a great distance.

Aella runs off and returns with Kesh, a young man a little older than Kataya. He cannot hide his curiosity as he stares at Kataya, who’s covered with crushed bloodsisters up to her hair and face. Arrah hands the basket to Kesh, who swallows nervously as he takes the mushroom cap out of the basket, breaks off a bit, and puts it in his mouth. He chews a moment, makes a face, then spits the mass out on a piece of birch bark that Arrah holds out to him.

Arrah gives the chewed-up mass to Kataya, who is feeling increasingly tingly and strange. She keeps noticing everything around her with a wonderful clarity and yet, at the same time, she also feels as if nothing matters. The mass is still warm, soft, and a bit slimy as she takes it into her mouth and swallows. At the same moment, she sees Kesh bend double and start to throw up violently.

“There’s always some poison in shomja ,” Akka Ismia explains to Kataya, who doesn’t care. “The bad effect of the poison goes away when it’s been chewed.”

Akka Ismia retrieves Kataya’s clothing from the ground and helps her to put it on, then she scoops up a handful of the crushed bloodsisters and rubs it into Kataya’s dress. Far in the background, Kesh is kneeling in the lichen, gray faced, covered with sweat, and spitting yellow bile.

As Kataya stands surrounded by the women, a feeling like a wave flushes through her head.

“Go, my child,” Akka Ismia says, passing the birch bark basket from Arrah to Kataya. “Go and find your Bruin.”

Kataya takes root and joins into a tussock. Kataya drinks the forest and the air and the night. How long? Kataya doesn’t know. Kataya is sitting and Kataya is lying down; her skin itches and burns with the skysister excretion and her soul itches and burns with the skymushroom poison. Except it’s not poison. Shomja no longer makes her throw up; she has eaten all the shomja there was in the basket and has searched for new ones. The red sky vault of shomja might shine by any thicket, near any alder. Inside her head, Kataya is humming.

The bear arrives so quietly she doesn’t even notice.

The bear sees her, smells at her, but Kataya’s smell is the smell of earth and insects.

The bear looks at her with Akka Ismia’s eyes, and since Kataya is but a spot of earth and tussock, the bear has nothing against her. Over the next three evenings the bear comes to eat crowberries in the neighborhood, and on the third night, Kataya follows the bear.