The Codex Mictlan
Art and text ©2000 A. King
Other characters, settings and concepts are all used with permission.

 

2-Alligator, Month of the Flower

I write this day to set down the happenings of my life to papers. Although I know very well that the Elder Firefly -- my beloved Collicoptli -- is recording our days together it is not the same as writing in these new words of the Common tongue. For who is to say that some day many grandchildren from now that anyone will understand our pictures and the things they mean? I very much intend to teach my children the ways of the amatl-stories but it is only fair if they are to speak the Common tongue they have a thing to take with them that says in precise words the happenings of the younger Firefly -- the one her Elder calls Copitzin -- in Mictlan.

Already Collicoptli has made a picture-book telling of the days I heralded the Sixth Sun, and it is a beautiful thing. For the reference it has been six-and-twenty days since that happening. Much has already happened so quick that I thought to write it down now before I grow too old and forget.

Since that day my Elder has been kind to show me more the ways of the nagual. I write the Nahua words for things I do not yet know the right Common words for and I can say I think that there is no true match for this word yet that I know. Some words are close, like shaman and others are more far away such as priest and sorcerer. That is the last thing a place like Mictlan is needing -- another sorcerer! I know this is not what I am. And so as the words is close but it is not the same in my heart, I mostly use shaman for nagual. Duur'math Aurethaen uses this word too and he is the closest to what I have seen here to a nagual. To my honor he says I carry the makings of a shaman so we will see how this goes and find out if it is the same.

That same day I asked the Voraath Aurethaen if he would also discipline me in movement with the Sep'aak weapon. How can I describe the way I was feeling when I first lay eyes on such a weapon! I was only weeks new to Mictlan and barely knowing Common words, knowing only what was in my heart for wanting. When I saw the weapon I wanted it very much, so much my heart was in my throat with desire. In all my months here now I have yet not seen anything like it except for strapped to the Voraath and so that is how I came to ask him for the knowledge. He is making a small Sep'aak for me now out of things I have gathered for him: raw iron, wood from the heart of an oak tree, tusk from the Xarta beast and a jade yolia-stone I have blown my breath into. I understand the weapon is to be smaller for me and that is probably good in that I could hardly lift Aurethaen's own except with great effort and care. I can not wait to lift my own Sep'aak and will try and carry it with all my honor both at peace and in war.

I think very fondly of that one night when I first saw the Sep'aak. It seemed a magical meeting when I met the Enforcers in that awful strange inn at the City of Sins called RhyDin. I remember and honor the stranger Orinoco and her kindness to help me find what I only could say then as "fighting friends" instead of soldiers or warriors as was proper. She is the one who showed me to Hally and the rest to put me on this path I have walked now for many months. I think often of Orinoco and wonder when she will return from her purifications. My elder has said she looked well when she walked from the lava on the night of 4-Earthquake, but I would like to see and thank her for myself. I think at the time I was saying thank you to her, but I did not know for how much because they were uncertain times. Who was to say if it would be working out for any of us?

Collicoptli is healthy and well. Through much study he has been able to scry the naming-day of my mate Ledwygg. I can not imagine going through life not knowing one's naming-day. They call it birth-day here in Mictlan, which is strange for the Land of the Dead to speak of births but I do not complain. There are celebrations and such on the day. It gave me much pleasure to tell Ledwygg of his tonalli from the naming-day. I think my elder was very correct in the divination and am glad he allowed me to explain for my love. As it is happening, Ledwygg was born in the Deer-month, my Lord Tepeyollotli's month of the hunt. This pleases us both and we wonder if it is not the shared month that makes our spirits so close and confortable in not only the hunt but in most things. I told him it is a month for stalking ~~ to stalk or be stalked himself. If he does not begin to understand perhaps I will explain more but I think now as he comes to understand the Kezbeh inside himself he knows I am meaning to stalk more than just deer and the like. I mean for stalking of himself inside.

He is also born on the 5-Monkey day. He thought this was funny at first and had the nerves to ask me for another day. I do not think monkeys are regarded as high here in Mictlan as they are in the Middle-world. I assure to tell my love that it is a good and glorious day for scribes and sculptors and singers and the like, and the only dangers are for falling drunk with arts and not material matters, like the Lord Xochipilli of the flowers. The number five is for my Mother the filth-eater's day. I do not know how he feels being born under a number of Tlazlteotl but perhaps it is another sign for how we are drawn together in ways, as I am born on her own Movement-day. I plan to take him to the sweat-bath so he may get to know all of my Mothers better and not only know the fierce hunger of Xihxicuinoa the Glutton. He does not much like this idea of the sweat-baths but is a willing creature and says he will try. Toci of the sweat-baths is a gentle Grandmother to me so we will see if she will show a side of compassion for my mate.

I must lay my reed down now because Ledwygg is to come home soon and I still have some disciplines to perform before he returns to our hearth. I work today on my Attentions and Stalking. They are not becoming too much harder after more practice. I feel my nagual-spirit is nearer every day as we stalk each other. One night we will meet at last.

I remain,
Xocoyocopitzin

5-Lizard, Month of the Flower

Yesterday night I took Ledwygg into the sweat-bath at Tenth Tree House. My children, I must tell you that is what we call the first house here where Collicoptli still lives. It is a small house we built by ten trees when we first came to Mictlan. My new house does not yet have a name but I do not know why. This reminds me to ask my singing-coyote about the house he has built that we live in. Perhaps if he does not know I should ask the house instead.

I do not think Ledwygg liked the sweating time very much but I am happy he tried a new thing for me and my curious self. He is mostly good to try new things that way and for that I thank the fates. I kept the air thin for his first bath in such a place to be gentle. But still for him the air was too thick with steam to breathe. I do not think he understood the cooling waters used in between sweats. At the second sweat I stopped the bath and did not even try to beat him with the leaves in case he think it all much too terrible to ever return again. For him bathing is perfect enough to be done in the cold running river and to that I say Ha! Why be cold and shivering on one's bones when one can be cozy and warm? I find it always of comfort to be in the house of Toci and at least now Ledwygg knows the warmth of my beloved Grandmother's house. He knows something of Her being the same as our Tlazlteotl and some even a part of Xihxicuinoa, but I do not think he is much used to many women being of the same one. They are all women as they are One Woman, My Mother.

It was something strange that he spoke to me of not wanting to smell of flowers from the steaming rocks and still was feeling dirty from the sweat. It is the cleanest feeling I know on this earth to crawl out from Toci's womb. More than clean -- pure and clean on the inside too. I could not help but laugh at his sorry grump when we got out of the sweathouse. I let him run to the river to wash the "dirty" sweats off his skin they way he usually does. If he still felt unclean maybe that is his way of knowing and washing away the impure things from himself. I do not take offense at his desire and way of showing it but am still a little sad he was not liking it so much. I think I will be both lucky and happy if he joins me there again. If it is something that makes us different that is well enough. We have plenty of other things to enjoy together in this life.

As he is not so much used to many kinds of the same woman sharing of the same body and spirit he sometimes gets a shiver when he watches me practice my disciplines upon our rug. I do not mean to seem as a ghost to Ledwygg when I look at this world in different ways with my Attentions. I tell him all is well, that it is only me or a part of me and not a thing to fear -- it is just his Firefly in a different way. If he can feel my tonal behind him already that is a good sign.

I think I am so much used to spirits over my shoulders that I forget what it is like the first times being watched by Others from Other Places. I try to go slow and not be a discomfort in my ways. Mostly I practice at Tenth Tree House so we are disturbed by these in-between times when I am neither here nor there, when I am too raw, not to be a fright for us both. He is good to give me the space. He is a rare man.

I speak with my Elder about the changes to come and he says it will not so much be an outward change as one inside. My own body will very much stay the same except in perhaps muscles and movements. He says it is as much looking for a new body outside of mine the way a little crab crawls into a new shell.

At times I see my first body looking back at me when I stalk myself. I see her somedays unsure, but mostly I see her strong and ready. I wonder what happens to my first body all of the time but my Elder tells me to forget that, to stop thinking of those things or I will never find the second body of my nagual. I feel her so near now I ache and at times cry tears. My eyes grow hot with so much desire for that shadowy shape. It is like seeing the outline of an old friend on the horizon and she never gets close enough. She leads me on. I go forth and she leads the Firefly further and deeper, into what or where I do not know.

I remain,
Xocoyocopitzin

6-Serpent, Month of the Flower

Today is the day I received my Sep'aak weapon from the Voraath. First I should write a thing about the Voraath people: they are very large. I have never seen a man so large in all of my life as when I first met the one called Aurethaen. From only a few words by my new friend Orinoco the Voraath was then telling me that my enemies were also his enemies. By looking at his sword I knew this would be a good thing and that maybe we would also be friends some day. It was not long before we could say this was so.

In truth his Sep'aak when planted in the ground before me is taller than my head, and so it is only with much effort that I was even able to pick it up and hold it in my two hands. Now that I have a Sep'aak sword of my own I can see how it is meant to be held by a person of my size. It is not so much hard anymore with a smaller sword.

When he handed the sword to me this night it was like a pocket-knife being drawn from the strappings of his pack. He is that large, I do not make stories of it. To him it seems as a small toy but for me the sword is big enough and three-quarters of my height. I can see he has put much care into the making of the blade. This is how he used the things I brought to him --

When I hold the Sep'aak in my hand, the first thing I am feeling is the handle beneath my palm. It is made from oak wood and feels very alive still with the heart-sap of the old tree. It feels much like my maccuahuitl sword and not too different to the touch. To protect my hand there is a cup of hard leather from some kind of animal I do not know. Fastening to that is the yolia-jade that he has somehow stoneshaped to help hold the blade to the hilt. It seems as if the heart of the jade is pierced by the blade itself! I cannot understand how there is such a tight fit for the blade there and it looks very much impossible to the eye.

Then there is the blade itself. It is a curving wicked thing with twelve teeth, forged into steel from the iron. She looks like she can bite very hard. On the bottom of the handle in the place they call the pommel there is the tusk as a cap, and in that, another smaller blade that is curved some in the same way. I have seen some fight like this with two blades and now that I do not need two hands to lift my own Sep'aak this may be a thing I can also do.

When I look at her I am sometimes filled with a little of my own fear. I ask myself why I want such a fearsome weapon and I can not say the answer why other then it is a thing I am feeling in my heart that is right to do. My elder says that I do not always need to be explaining myself and this is enough but still I wonder of why. He too sees this weapon and I watch his eyes get wide. This is the look I want to see in my enemies before I strike with the Sep'aak claw.

Aurethaen told me a curious thing when he presented the blade. I am not to learn to use it from him until I am able to wash it in the blood of an enemy first alone with no teaching. At first I was very sad as I do not have any enemies by name at this time. There are creatures that I dislike here but none that I would go to kill for the sake of my pride and blade, and so I decide to wait for a true yaotl to taste with my new weapon. I will wait for a body to cross me and then we will see if I have the thing instinct to use a Sep'aak.

So as I wait tonight I feel as a jaguar-kitten with new claws. I try different ways to move the weapon and feel that it is much about movement in the wrists. The curving makes it easy to swing up and more natural than swinging down. This is a new feeling for me as the maccuahuitl is very much a down-swinging weapon. I must forget that. I must put it far from my mind and the memory of my body if I am to learn the Voraath way of movement. It is like I am learning a new dance that I have hardly seen and must make my own. I make up the steps and will see if they are not so awful.

I pray for a worthy enemy soon, but not so soon that I am not ready. If I am to die or fail badly in this test it will be the will of the Ancients that watch over the Voraath. I do not think I have done any things to offend them and so I pray for them too. I ask them tonight to be kind and maybe help this woman know her new sword so she may show them many good battles in a long life. I do not even know who the Ancients are but if they are so concerned of my worth I leave them a flower too -- a small dawn-colored thing called a tulip bud that I pulled up from the soil on Tenth Tree Hill.

The snows are ending here and I will not much longer need hot-house flowers for my devotions. I feel much relief for the change and sense many exciting things to come with the longer days.

I remain,
Xocoyocopitzin

[Voraath concept and references ©2000 T.A. Saunders All rights reserved

8-Deer, Month of the Flower

This last night I had the honor of hunting with the Champion Dare, son of the Dark Elder and weapon-smith to the Enforcers. The city of Anthalus was our jungle and assassins our prey. I know he prefers to hunt alone and so I try and keep my questions few and eyes open for him, to stay out of the way and not get under his feet. It was good to see how he stalks in the city, and to be useful to him somehow as we searched for those who may have harmed our Del'Antreva, the woman who follows in the footsteps of Dare in the Rah'zad ways.

My elder Collicoptli has seen some of these ways in a demonstration. We are in agreement that it is a showy manner of movement at times with flips and tumbles. It is also very beautiful to watch, and so I watch Dare sometimes too when we fight side-by-side in those rare seconds I can afford the breath to pause. He does things with energy sometimes that I do not understand, and that with just a touch to my shoulder can send my blood running fast through my veins, that all seems faster and brighter and easier as I move. It can run through me like a drug or a strong blessing. I feel this way when I run some times but have never had it given to me by another outside of me before by touch.

I am sad to write that while we did find Del in her apartment we did not find the assassins yet, and so I helped my commander to return and heal at the Black Sigil so Dare could continue the hunt alone. Her body was limp as a doll. I know that part of my path will be to a healer but not of wounds of that kind, so I am grateful for those who know like Hally and Nathan and all of the Enforcers who heal in their own way. But Dare has given strict orders not to treat her in any manner on the case the toxins get much worse from our trying. He did not say anything about singing for her though so I have done that twice as she sleeps -- singing so that whatever part of her soul is wounded with poison will know to wake and come home to us.

I do not think a body can be hurt more by songs.

Ledwygg the Singing-Coyote and my Elder join voices some times at night when we go to serve him supper. This is what my elder was saying the first time he met my mate: that he has a very strong and healthy voice that could carry far to the spirits if he wanted. I tell him then why do you think I am calling him Cuicoyotl? I do not think it will be long before our spirits come to teach him a song and then maybe he will know this, too. I can see he does not believe in all of our ways but he is free to choose as he likes. I wish for him to see the gentleness and joy of what we do and that it is not all volcanos and ending of ages.

I remain,
Xocoyocopitzin

12-Monkey, Month of the Flower

I wake up this morning and I am in the most misery. I am doubled in torture from the start of my moon count. As I grit my teeth from the pain, as if I am not injured enough inside, I know this means I have not yet seated a child. I try not to be so much in self-pity, but end this long day with a howl of defeat in the sweat baths were no ears can hear but Toci. This is the second month of the Sixth Sun and I feel like a terrible wife as dead and useless as a chip of stone. Toci's purifications are not a comfort today. Neither are Ledwygg's words.

My mate tells me all is still well and in fact he seems to feel it a relief. He tells me he will not take a Second Wife, that I am not to think of such things. He reminds me we are not in Texcoco, and that I am not just the First Wife, I am the Only Wife. I understand I think but that does not make the hurting go away.

There are not that many here in Mictlan who take more than one wife at a time and here is why: they have a thing called divorcing. Some do this time and time again and never seem to be happy.

What do men know? Here is a truth:

Men do not know war. They do not know pain that has always been ours to fight as an enemy that will not retreat. My Mother says they make war among themselves because they are jealous of the way we bleed and bring forth life. Men are terrible imitators sometimes. They have war all backwards.

War is the fight inside.

It was different when my Lord Tezcatlipoca said that He would not seat a child in me until my deed was done, and for all of those months I was feeling a relief too, for my freedom. But now my work with Him is complete I can not help but have fury for My Lord who makes me wait and wait some more.

I do not know why my mate's seed falls on a barren plain and fails to take root. I can not say I have done anything to deserve this.

I drink my teas and keep clean. I am so steady on time that when the Moon forgets herself She asks me which day it is. I stay in good health, I perform my rites, I please my mate time and time again and know no reasons for not being fit and fertile. Tezcatlipoca will not speak to me on it and I do not know why. He tells me to consult my Mothers and they shrug and ask me to speak with Him instead, he is the one in charge of seeds taking root. It is a terrible circle with none to be responsible and now they will not say any more on it at all. I am done consulting my gods. They are less help to me now on this matter.

Now soon tomorrow I will go ask Pharlen. She seems healthy and maybe will know what I can do for health too. There is one thing I have heard from a rumor and that is to drink the water from the well in RhyDin. The women there are always pregnant with one child or more. I will not do this yet as I also am not so desperate for babies that I will bear triplets having two heads and four tails each.

Pharlen will know what to do.

I remain,
Xocoyocopitzin

13-Grass, Month of the Flower

This is terrible and strange. I do not recognize myself when I read what I have written the day before. I wrote awful things about those I love including my gods and some things that I do not speak aloud. I feel very sorry but I can not apologize properly because there is nobody to apologize to but these paper pages. This is strange that it feels so much more an insult when I write these dark thoughts down instead of just think them and then let them fade away. It is like a shady mirror where I can see the reflections of my days after they are forgotten.

My Elder agrees this may be a new way of Stalking and he says that as long as I do not feel a harm in it I may continue even though it has never been done before in the Firefly line. This is a very new thing because we do not usually write things we are feeling in the amatl-books. We only write of deeds that have been done, or count things like days, or mark down taxes and tributes. Usually if we have a thing to express that is feeling it is in songs instead. We are good at very sorrowful songs but I am not sure here anyone wants to hear too much of that. So I will keep writing and see where that goes.

I do not have many new things to write today except that I am feeling much better now. And I am done writing awful thoughts to think with a clear head and heart. I perform a small penance for thinking I have been so forsaken.

Hally asks me tonight if I will choose some Privates to be in charge of controlling the wild worg beasts along the roads to Anthalus. This is exciting and while I was glad to be a Private at one time I am even gladder to be a Sergeant. I am going to choose Harold the half-orc and the new recruit Michael.

And Aiglentine tells my mate that he has a mother who is alive in Chastel Marte which is a surprise for us all. I begin to start thinking much more deeply about Ledwygg today. It is a complicated matter and I will only write now that he is still growing faster than I think he can keep up. He is not in any hurry to go back to that island and I still do not understand why. It does not take a shaman or master nagual to see that something is still not right no matter how much control he is showing. I only wish for him to be whole and healthy. I crack his door open a little more each day and see what he will allow. Ours is a slow and gentle work. I will not rush too much to understand.

I remain,
Xocoyocopitzin

2-Ocelotl, Month of the Reed

I have seen the most marvelous thing this night.

But I will start with this afternoon. When I am least expecting it what am I to find but my own nagual stalking me! I feel her as if over my shoulder all day, as a shadow I cannot grasp. It is her game for eluding me and all the Attention in the world will not secure her. I hear her laugh as a grunt in the growth along the riverbank at the bottom of Tenth Tree Hill. She is all caprice and tricks like a child. I can tell she is a youthful creature. I catch a glance of the rosettes on her hide but I have not truly seen her yet. She is all movement and shadows, making me a fool on my search. I take my time and play with her back to see if that is what she is wanting. I chase her along the river rocks near the reeds. I she loves running the reeds as much as I do I think we will be great allies.

My Elder says he felt her strong today and perhaps now she is not so shy and mysterious to either of us.

Later tonight as I am feeling pulled over the threshold from inside to outside to see the stars above, I meet the reason why I am called. She comes and shows herself and all her starry raiment in the moonrays to me -- and not just to me but to my mate as well. This is a very good omen that she is trusting us both, but at the same time she is cautious and proud. I think this is not the first time she has looked upon my beloved.

This is what she did: she walked along the edge of a rooftop and then she sat down on her hind legs and stretched her arms out before her as I do in my meditations. She grinned fiercely at us as if having a terrible secret. Ledwygg says she has stolen my smile but I remind him I have only borrowed hers instead. There is a reason the ancient Tolteca sculptors are calling it the ocelotl-grin: it is hers and it is mine. Soon it will be ours.

This is how I came to know the sight of my nagual on the day 2-Ocelotl in the month of the Reed. It is an auspicious day for us both and one I will never forget. I can not distort the feeling of joy any more by pinning it to words, so that is all to write of this thing of wonder.

I remain,
Xocoyocopitzin

4-Vulture, Month of the Reed

There is much to record today.

Pharlen took a coil of my hair some days back to go take some tests in her lab which is a place where she figures things out. She will see if she can unwind the mystery of the Firefly and maybe say what things I need to be doing for better health. She asks me much about medicines I am taking like my teas and wonders if I may have toxins or blockers from my peyotl medicine. I explain to her this does not usually interfere with children. We do not have any more peyotl medicine to eat anyway. I ate it all for the dawn of the Sixth Sun. My Elder will not eat any herbs he has not cut himself here and of course there are none to be found in the dead of snow. On all of my runs I have not seen cactuses at all ever except in pots or small gardens.

For the first time today my thoughts turn to the idea that maybe it is not me. Maybe it is Ledwygg. I should explain. He is having trouble with wholeness I think. It is hard to tell a person I love he is maybe not whole when he does not much believe it. He is a strong man but he is also stubborn. At times he is like the wild coyote who would rather lose a limb to sickness than get help and let it heal right.

I gave him a yolia-stone for the health of his soul long ago and he still wears it. I do not think he believes it though. Perhaps he thinks it is pretty and kind and all but he does not believe it might keep him healthy. I blow my breath onto it sometimes when he is in distress and it seems to help maybe calm him down but that is all. I have told him some how to use it but mostly only in the death-rite. I tell him how to cut a hole in my chest and place the greenstone yolia there when I die. If the same is done for him maybe we may better find each other in the Afterworld if we do not die too far apart in time. We promise this will be done but as with all matters it is also unknown.

I ask my Elder if this is the way of things, if it is my strange luck to be called to heal my husband first on the nagual's path. It does not seem fair. We are too close. I have too much to lose if I fail. I ask my Elder these things and he reminds me that I am not alone and would do well to work with others on helping my mate be whole. Of course he is right. I am so thankful for my Elder to guide and help make sense. At times I feel so alone even with my friends here. It is a comfort to hear his tongue and know at least there is one man in the world where I do not need to explain a thing. He knows almost everything of my old life and the same of the new.

I look in my book and see that many of my writings of my mate have been in worry for him and that is not fair because there is so much more between us than this cause for concern. The worry comes from the love and light I feel for him. All of the things I told him upon our bonding-day are true. He is the one who blossoms me out for a man like never before known. He is my anchor-star. My children, there is a saying in Texcoco and beyond that when a body comes to Mictlan they need a guiding dog to show the way so the body and soul do not get lost. I did not bring a dog, but the gods instead helped me find a Singing-Coyote, Nocuicoyotl. He is the one that shows me the way. Ledwygg is my guide to this treacherous place Mictlan. He is my one love of all loves.

From the very first time I met him he was giving me things from the heart. I ask him only for words and he gives me poetry. I invite him for supper and he brings us a feast. I ask him for a star's name and he gives me a story. This is how I know his heart is good and he is not as unworthy as he sometimes feels for the one he calls "Kebezh" inside him.

There are times when I feel what they say is species apart. It is true we are different species he and I. I knew that when I bonded with him I would be mating with another kind. I knew this is a risk. I wonder too now if this is why there are no children yet, as when a man couples with a herd-beast there are no half-beast calves. Maybe no matter how close in spirit we are too far apart in body kind.

I begin to think of this Kebezh much now, too. I try to know him better as much as I can and as much as Ledwygg will allow. There are more reasons than ever now and here is why.

Things have turned badly for the Enforcers as an accident. The mission I have been commanding against the worg beasts started out very well this day with my speaking to the rangers around Anthalus and informing the people of our hunting plan. Much of this good work fell to ruin tonight as those who were not well enough informed mistake my mate-as-wolf for a Worg King of some sort and hunt him as any awful animal. They do not listen to me as I tell them the Enforcers and I will protect them from the real threat and they must leave our man Ledwygg alone. My words fall on deaf ears to their loud cries and they raise their sorry swords against us all. My mate defends himself and we defend ourselves too. I am near to weep for the misunderstanding but there is no time for lamenting in battle. When it is all done there are many dead. We have injured those we are sworn to defend. I feel no shame but great sorrow.

This does not so much have to do with Kebezh himself but it has lifted Ledwygg's name in blame for being careless in his choice of hunting worg beasts as a wolf shape. It reminds those such as our commander Hally of the other hunts Ledwygg has not yet reported to our Lord Durlane. These are the dark hunts he makes to feed Kebezh. It reminds us also that no matter how much my mate would like to ignore his second spirit inside we as Enforcers can not do this any longer. As much discomfort I know this may bring Ledwygg I am much relieved that it has begun. I think this night is his wholeness calling out to be healed when his own voice can not form the words.

Ledwygg lies now behind me here in a room at the Black Sigil, where many of us begin our healing. He has been badly injured from the chase and is in a deep and troubled sleep. Hally has helped with the wounds of the body and so I turn my Attention to strengthening his soul. I have breathed four rounds of songs into his yolia stone but the trouble does not leave his brow.

My own arm is hurting me terrible from the fight this evening as I write. Despite the failure tonight there is still much more to report on the subject of the worgs for Hally. For now I must close this book of thoughts and pick up the pen for duty instead of the Sep'aak sword.

I remain,
Xocoyocopitzin

5-Movement, Month of the Reed

There are so many things happening and so many things I forget. It is morning of the next day and I write before Ledwygg wakes up. His sleep is more restful but I can tell he is still in pain and not healing so fast as he ususally does.

One thing I have forgotten to record in all these busy happenings is that I saw a woman the other night that looked very close to my own race! In all of these months here I have never seen a kind close to me but one look upon her face and I was sure I was seeing a person from near my home. And then just when I thought I was having a hold on her from across the room, what does she do but disappear into air and not come back? It was a good thing the lady was sitting near my commander Jasa'llaine so that I might ask her if I was not believing my eyes. This was in the City of Sins after all and there is so much trickery and deception there that I have learned to believe hardly a thing I see or hear until I confirm that it is true from one I trust.

Jasa'llaine tells me I am not crazy and I did see a woman much like myself. The woman was dressed in the same kinds of clothes as women from my city and the lake beyond, and had very noble lines to her face. I waited and waited for her to return so we might speak together but she did not return. It is very possible I scared her with my way of dressing and rattles and skins. Women from our cities do not dress this way unless they are one of two things: A God or a devoted servant of the Gods. For some this still spells fear. It is true we came up to greet her and Jasa'llaine with Ledwygg-as-wolf grinning at my side. Between his fearsome teeth and the huge white cat-claws draped over my shoulders I am sure we may have been a fright to a poor woman from perhaps the Middle World like me. I forget sometimes how much I have changed.

Later Jasa'llaine tells me that from her talks with the woman it is sounding as if her new friend might have the same kinds of gods as I if not the same gods themselves. I am so excited to hear this news! I thought perhaps it was my personal puzzle or punishment to be sent to a land where nobody spoke my language and did not recognize my gods except under different names, and under different stories. Mictlan is our kind of hell where all is not as orderly as it is above and so I was not expecting it to be easy, but neither was I expecting it to be so hard and alone sometimes. What if it is now a puzzle I can share with another who finally speaks my tongue? I am thankful for the chance.

Ledwygg stirs and calls for me now.

I remain,
Xocoyocopitzin

7-Rain, Month of the Reed

It has been very hard these days past. I try and make repairs for the situation of worgs and it has not been easy. The deputy rangers are eager for help and are listening to me however. We proceed with our plan for counting and tracking the packs before sending our Enforcers out to manage their numbers.

I spent almost all of the day 6-Flint nailing up these things posters. One has pictures of worg beasts on it and it says in large letters WORG. Another has more pictures on it of dogs and wolves and werebeasts and even people of all kinds like my mate and it says NOT WORG. I remember the days when I do not even know what these letters meant and so it is my hope for the people that they explain things to each other and stop killing the wrong kinds of creatures.

I saw a thing that day that I was not much happy to see and that was my commander Hally hitting Ledwygg so hard he fell to the floor for foolishness. I heard him speak in a rude way to her for not wanting his work assignment to the hospital. I think that she wishes him to serve the people more closely but she knows as well as I this may not be a thing he is any good at or wanting to do. She does it to make him feel humble I think. It is a strange way of punishment and I do not know why Ledwygg was acting that way instead of just accepting the matter to move on. He makes himself more in trouble each day and he does not even see how.

And so I saw him get hit very hard and I did not know what to do, to be soldier first or wife first. I want to hit sense into him sometimes too but that does not mean I act on the urge. I only hit him that one time and that was for breaking my sword as we play-fighted. We were already fighting for fun but this time is much more serious. Hally hit him as if to knock knowledge into his skull with her anger.

It hurt me some to walk away from him as he was struck but I think I had to for the distance. We are privates and sergeants together for almost all things we do but some things must be done alone. I ask Hally to apologize but she is only sorry for the situation, not the thing she has done. I think I understand because that is how I feel too sometimes. Besides that Hally was telling me that I must round up all my running-dogs from the streets if I thought I wished to maybe see them alive anymore with all the wrong hunting. I left the Sigil where she was scolding him so I could try and gather my dogs. I do not own them or feed them but I also do not wish for them to get in the same kind of trouble as my husband with misunderstanding. We have enough of that around here.

What is this cloud that has come over us that none of us can see things for what they are? Worgs are worgs and men are men and dogs are dogs. Lewyggs is...

I do not know what he is.

But when I return from my run for the dogs my mate tells me this: Hally has seen inside him and has faced him for the Truth inside that is the terror of Kebezh. She has planted more seeds of shame in him somehow with her seeing things. He lets them grow. I see my mate made crazy with unknowing by his own self split inside. The first rule of the shaman is to understand how a world and feeling can appear so real to another -- and so I must allow him that world if it is true terror he has felt. But he does not see the world I see, either. He keeps saying this word "evil" for describing it and from this I think he mistakes evil acts for evil nature. I see opportunity in the event but he only sees this thing as evil and wrong. I am tired of this crap and get angry enough to tell him he has not even given the thought of knowing Kebezh better a chance. He has lost for not even trying to play the game.

I want to make friends with Kebezh inside, or at least to know him better if I can. Who cares if he is evil, that does not mean we need to be enemies! I want him to make friends with Ledwygg too but I tell him this: It will never happen if Ledwygg does not reach out to meet the other spirit as an ally. It will only be evil acts and more evil acts as the weaker spirit struggles inside to get let out.

He thinks I am some crazy or maybe mistaken for calling his spirit the nagual inside. He does not know how lucky he is for it starting to reach out at him if only in violent ways at first. Some people wait all their lives for the nagual to come and it never does because they do not want to be found. I think the only reason why it seems so much like a rabid beast is because he is locking it away. You lock up a beast like that and keep it from stretching -- I bet you it will only act more like an animal that does not know how to behave. I have seen this kind of thing in the animal gardens at Tenochtitlan and am sure it is much the same for souls.

To my surprise after all my urging all these weeks Ledwygg agrees for a meeting with Kebezh, to call him for a talk when he is not hungry or mad with desires. I feel it as a great relief that my ideas have not driven him completely away because I know they sometimes sound strange to those not used to dealing with souls. We do not always agree on the nature of his soul and what it might mean but at least he has agreed to try.

Even more relief is that Ledwygg spoke with our Lord Durlane this day to explain his acts. Finally the deed has been done. All of these weeks I have tried to convince Lewdygg to believe in the idea of compassion from the Kal'aire. Why is that so impossible to think of? I watched the discussing between the men happen before my eyes and listened as much as I could. Our Lord Durlane says the urge must be shaped into a discipline if his compassion is to last for Ledwygg. It is good to know the Dark Elder and I are of the same mind on this. Ledwygg has been given a chance to try. Let us see what he does with it.

It is as if a great weight has been lifted from our shoulders with this day passing. I know my mate is strong of will and spirit through these brave acts and by enduring them well enough to still smile. For the first time in days we celebrate our lives tonight. It does not seem as if he is so much looking forward in dread and certain doom anymore. Much is still uncertain but then when is it ever all in place?

And so I celebrate my dark artist Ledwygg in devotions to the patron of his day Xochipilli. I pray the Prince of Flowers may help provide a kind of discipline for Ledwygg and maybe one for Kebezh too. There is no reason the crafts may not be strong enough to bind this spirit with Ledwygg's own. Are not all true artists partly mad? Shamans and artists make perfect matches because of it.

After my devotions I celebrate my mate himself by reminding him of the Firefly who loves him so much she will not let this come to a terrible end. There is a fierceness in my heart for him that I can not measure, my children. How a mortal man came to capture my devotions so quickly and completely is a mystery I do not know. I will not claim to know all of him and I will not expect to. That can not stop the fact of love.

I do not think anything can.

I remain,
Xocoyocopitzin

(guest chapter written by Ledwygg)

I be not fer knowing the proper date, but methinks it be a Friday.

Firefly be telling meself as when she write in her journal book she feel better like to know her true thoughts on a thing. I be not fer knowing the truth on her words, but here I sits scratching away at her pages while she be away on her hunting of them inbred fleabit Worgs. I feels as there be much fer me to say.

This bedamned book been laying on our table fer as long as Firefly been to writing in it, and never did I think to peek between its leaves. But now while she be gone it be like to talk to me in my silent spaces, and finally my spirit bent and I cracked it to see what she been saying to her, whatever ye calls them as be the other direction in time from Ancestors. Belike that were as great a wrong to do as this be, in my writing my own words in her private place, but an it were so private as that methinks she would take more care of it, or bring it on her hunting with her. So I feels not so guilty, only a mite fer not having asked.

I should also say now that I be as pleased to see her words as a dad must feel when his kin first take a step. I remembers on a time when Firefly could barely fit this language between her teeth. Fer herself to be keen on reading and writing it now, and much because of my own teaching to her, fill me with a loving sort of pride. Methinks, betimes, she be better in the Common tongue now than I be meself. But these ramblings be taking away from the point of me writing here, and delays my dinner. So I gets to business.

She be wanting to meet Kebezh, and get acquainted on the dark spirit that take me when I be in the Hunger. Methinks she know not what she be asking. I be knowing Kebezh only when it seize my body in the Hunt, and from that feeling I knows it be not a gentle spirit. It burn my mind on the inside, and my body feels ever dirty when it leave me to meself again.

I see where she be writing as mayhap Kebezh be acting as any caged animal would. But my own thinking be, if the animal weren't so all fired dangerous to start on, what need to cage himself at all? I'd be to let my spirit out, if I wasn't so sure on it leading to fifty kinds of mischief.

And yet here I be thinking on ways to make the meeting happen. It be her own light spirit and my own love fer herself that convinces me, I believes, else I'd never so lay aside my wits. Song swallow me, but there be naught I'd not do in her name. Not even my Pack-sister Del hold such a place in my heart, and nor she nor Lady Aiglentine nor Lord Vengeance hisself could so persuade me to call my demon out of his locked room in my head. Though, them later two could command me on it an that been their whim. Mourne might have done, an Firefly not been there to talk me through to it herself.

What I be not understanding be that all of the experience that Firefly been to have with Kebezh were to the negative, and yet she be thinking that my fears of the spirit be too great. Nine Hells, I near took her life from her when the spirit claimed me, once in the Sigil. Still she be wanting to make friends, and invite the demon to dinner. What be she thinking to serve, I like to ask, but I holds my tongue.

I fears fer herself. She be so eager and trusting of them things as she dasn't understand. I smile as I remember being like to that meself, before this hundred times bedamned spirit turned my head inside to out. I were carefree and openfaced to all who I come across, more even than Firefly be like. I worries, harder than any other worry I has, that this open spirit may one time lead to a mistake or accident or betrayment we can't to make right.

At the same time I be wishing so hard to have that lightness back fer my own.

I feels like there be a thousand more things I should be to write on. I should put to paper my thinkings on what Lady Aiglentine been to tell me on my natural mother, and on Firefly's broken heart on account of we has no kin in the makings yet. And on who my dearest be and what they done to earn their marks in my head and heart. There be more to say on Kebezh too, and on sweat baths and Firefly's Glutton mother and my new hobby of finding different sorts of things to try my carving on. Like obsidian or soap or bones or things. Ye sees as my noggin atop these burdened shoulders be a head packed clear to the top with things worth the saying. I could write clear on through till every last one of them Worgs be skinned into throw rugs and blankets, an my enthusiastic wife ain't seen to that already.

Right now though my fingers be achin me something terrible, and they feels like they be to fall off or run away, an I looks away from them fer a moment's space. This be more than I been to write at a sitting since I once tried a school. It weren't to my liking, and I took back to the wood. That were a long time gone. And now I remembers that pain to the hands when I writes too long. So I be letting them fingers play General to my Sergeant, and I sets this quill down to soak these poor hands in the stream till dinnertime.

In song,
Ledwygg

An Firefly be not chewing new earholes in my melon fer invading her pages here, mayhap I writes again betimes.

I needs say, too, that Firefly be right. My thoughts be in a more settled place than they been afore I sat to write on them here. That be all I has to say. I be surprised my fingers ain't yet to bleeding.

9-Alligator, Month of the Reed

Well what do you know if my mate does not join me in my mirror-book? We are hunters, Ledwygg and I. Here we stalk our thoughts to pin them down. Here we hunt with words.

Today Harold and I have been hunting worg beasts together with our team. He is a good hunter and listens well and follows orders and makes suggestions to do things better. A woman could hardly ask for more in a soldier. We do not take too many words to understand each other and get things done. He is the right hand.

It is true what they say with the worgs having a language of their own though there are few outside the goblins that have stopped to listen to it. Now I know the worg-sounds for the cry of "help" and for "no" or words of protesting. I also think I know and hear a sound for "my child" but maybe it is not I do not know and must listen more carefully for the way it is used. That is how I was learning the Common Tongue so fast was through listening first before speaking out on my own. I have asked among the Enforcers if there are any goblin allies among us to help with the worgs and there are not any. Harold is half-orc which is similar but not the same.

We be sure to track them when they are not in packs and maybe only one or two alone together so it is not a huge fight. It was a challenge at first to hunt them wild with loud battle and blows between us -- but after the sixth or seventh kill it was clear that no matter how many good times and glories we were having there was also a job to be done. We make it fast and clean. My Sep'aak has been plunged in blood eight times over and if they were not just hairy pests I would be bold to call them enemies and say my own mission to bathe the blade for the Voraath Ancients and myself was done. However I do know this: enemies do not fall this easily, and I will not make an enemy where there are none at all to begin with.

Del is feeling much better now and prepares tranquilizing darts for us to use to make the beasts sleepier and less able to fight as we put them down. Sometimes we drive them closer to the ranger stations before the killing blow, and that saves us some effort for dragging or transporting the bodies long ways.

At each ranger station there are women and even some skilled men there who are able to do the skinning and to prepare the wiry meat for their hounds and falcons and drakes and such. We make sure every part is used so that this is not so much a terrible plague but an opportunity for harvest. It is not the fault of the worgs their homes were burned and blasted from the volcano Mount Hakala-Kor. That is mostly why there are so many worgs here. It is nothing personal such as that the people here taste better than any others or they have a thing against the people. It is just a thing of nature out of balance.

Because they can not behave themselves well enough to stop eating our people we have no more choice but to guide nature with our own hands. It is true that the best worg is one that has been born on a farm and trained by a goblin. It is the wild ones that are difficult and even sometimes mean. We have enough problems with people killing people without reason and do not need mean and hungry worgs helping any.

I see from our count in the field there are 12 females that are pregnant with child and may give birth soon this season. I ask my men and our helpers to save the mothers for last Who is to know if we are to soon find an ally to train the spring babies well enough to behave? I will not have it be a waste if it does not need to be so. That is what I like the most about command. I may make the decisions on things that are important to me and do it with the trust of my commanders as well. I think these beasts will make fine captives.

There is a different way of warring here and that is mostly to kill a thing when one has the chance. They do not much take captives as I have been taught by my elders is civil to do. Maybe now is a good time to show a different manner of honoring the defeated. The worg females put up a worthy fight as we take their males from them and so they at least deserve captivity from us I think.

Hally will not allow any of the were-kinds of the Enforcers to be on my team and so I am not able to work with Ledwygg on this mission as much, though we well know he is able. I am not sure I want him much near the worgs right now anyway after the misunderstanding. His leg is feeling better some and it does him well to be out of doors and in the fresh air. I wish he could go out with me on this but I do not think it will happen. He has anger and I think some good reasons for it too.

We do other things together instead like talk and cook meals. He carves now as I practice my disciplines and write some. I see him pause with blade at rest between thoughts and wonder what he is thinking. And so I lay down my reed this night to find out what has brought that spark back to my Old Man's gaze. I think I have an idea and let us see if it is right.

I remain,
Xocoyocopitzin

11-House, Month of the Reed

A very curious thing happened some days ago. I saw again the woman that seemed to be of my same race and this time with Jasa'llaine wrapped in her arms as if a child or lover or both. Of course I can no longer contain my curiosity for her and so I approach to meet this woman. I do not much know how to act whether as a woman of Texcoco or as a woman of Mictlan. I try to be a woman of Texcoco first and tell her only my titles and wait for a response.

I tell her I am the Firefly and the Sergeant and the Night Sun. She does not recognize my names much or even my pelt which is that of the Night Sun. And so this is the first clue that looks are not all as they appear. I am quiet and wait as a woman from Texcoco should and that does not much work in making friends. As time passes I forget this first approach for it is not much rewarding and I wonder if I can ever act that way again -- to sit on my questions as a child sits on her hands to not touch a sweet.

There is a thing said of women in Texcoco and that is this: when a woman hears the drum speak in the distance she does not even ask from where it sounds. It is uncomely to ask too many questions or any at all. But being comely is the first thing I stopped doing when I came to Mictlan. Asking questions is the only way I survived in this place at all.

And so whether she thinks I am impolite for it or not I ask her where is she from and who sends her here. She tells me she is from the place Aztlan. My children, who knows where you will be born, or if you will hear the stories of our neighbors in Tenochtitlan across Lake Texcoco, but let it be told here that the land Aztlan is the Place of Whiteness and the place of the Herons. It is the name of the land where our neighbors the Mexica people say they are from.

I find out she might be my neighbor and I want to greet her as such but I do not think she is recognizing even my city. Maybe she is indeed from Aztlan but maybe has never been to Tenochtitlan and does not know the things that go on between that city and mine of Texcoco. We are great allies but not after much hard work of my King Nezahuacoyotl to help make it so.

She tells me she has come here through smoke and fire across the dreamlands of the serpent king. I wonder if these are the lands of Quetzalcoatl, the twin brother of my Lord Tezcatlipoca, and here is why. She seems all lightness-in-body, for when I see her with Jasa'llaine it is if they are twin stars, one light and one dim. She calls our lady Jewel the name Citlalin, which is the Little Star. How much like nectar to hear the sweet sounds of my mother tongue flow from the mouth of another woman! For Jewel, too, it seems as if her own mother's tongue speaks tenderly with this one word.

Theirs is a curious connection and I feel as an intruder upon a private and sacred space. I tear my prying eyes and questions away to leave the women be. If our paths are meant to cross again if at all I am sure our gods will arrange it so. I can not help but feel that I myself have spoken in none but riddles for the last hour and for that I have suspicion I am being used by My Lord to question her in his stead. It is some uncomfortable.

I wonder now if this woman is not the Light Lord's agent now as I am for Tezcatlipoca. I think if she were an agent indeed she would recognize me and so I do the only thing I can do and that is wait. I begin to wonder too if maybe she is from another time and that is why things seems so strange between us. Pharlen tells me this place can have people from all times at the same time. That I believe because I have seen things I do not even have the words to explain.

I have seen too much. That is why I wonder if I may ever go back no matter how much how my heart now aches for it. I do not know many other nagual that have spent so many months in Mictlan long enough to call it home. Even Collicoptli does not know any who have stayed here as long as he and I have. For that we may be feared but perhaps in a good way for respect of the feat. We have lived in the Land of the Dead. Who in Texcoco can say that? I am grateful for the chance.

If I knew how to get home I would try it. I run by the cave from where Collicoptli and I first crawled into Mictlan and I will tell you this: it is a very ordinary cave that does not go anywhere and especially not back to Lake Texcoco. I know it is the same cave because we painted a blessing on the inside and it is still there. The passage to the Middle World is no longer to be found. I urge my Mothers to break the earth back open for me but they say this will not help. I need to find other ways for getting there.

I am a little longing for home inside now more than ever. I want to see the deserts in bloom this Month of the Reed. I want to taste honey from the high fields and gather medicines with my elder again. I want to show Ledwygg the other place I call home, to show him the feather-markets and flint quarries and places he can buy beautiful woods.

I want to show him everything. Stars forgive me when it comes to him I want it all.

I remain,
Xocoyocopitzin

13-Serpent, Month of the Reed

What another curious thing. Tonight I am talking with Ledwygg about who remembers what as I tidy up the house and I see a thing I forgot to ask him about. There is a shelf where he keeps the creatures he carves. In the place where there are all the friends and Enforcers there is one little figure that has been peeping back at me all these weeks when I clean. I thought I knew all of Ledwygg's friends and so this little one has been looking strangely to me all these weeks. I pull the fierce fellow from where he squats behind the others and hold him in my hand like a frog. I ask my mate who this friend is that I do not yet know.

He looks at it and looks at it some more and does not recognize the face. In fact he tells me he did not carve it at all, it must be a mistake. I ask him to look again at the way the eyes and other shapes are carved because it looks so much like the work of his hand. He has a way of moving the simple knife to the wood that makes things beautiful like the wood itself is singing out alive. We look at the creature for a while and then Ledwygg has a dark idea. He tells me that Kebezh must have used his hands to carve some time, he thinks that night he woke with splinters in his mouth and teeth. My dark artist grows angry again for feeling used as a plaything and puppet. Who would blame him really?

This is what I tell him: This totem is a thing of beauty the spirit has made to share and perhaps the first peaceful thing he has done. Never mind that he made Ledwygg's body tear some other good carvings apart with his own teeth. This is at the very least a good thing left in exchange and perhaps his way to reach for those of us on the outside. Kebezh has tried something gentle for once and for that he has my respect. He chooses to create once instead of destroy.

It is all I can do to convince Ledwygg to not cast the carving into the hearth fire. He would watch the portrait burn, and I think with it another chance for knowing the spirit inside. My mate has been lucky to first hold a name and now a face. If it is power and control Ledwygg wants I urge him to keep whatever clues he is given instead of throwing it all away. He listens and lets go with a sigh. Do I help him tear away the veil or only manage to wear him down with weariness as a nag? I do not know. It does not help for him to agree just for me. He must agree for himself alone.

I pray here with words before returning to Tenth Tree House for devotions: Xochipilli, Prince of Flowers and all that Moves the Heart, bless my mate for the strength to know his arts. Show him a way to meet the other artisan whether ally or enemy, and show Kebezh more ways to be gentle when he is moved to speak. Help them both carve away all that is not needed to see the truth of what lies inside. Help them to be whole.

I remain,
Xocoyocopitzin

1-Death, Month of Death

Today is the day my team and I have completed the mission for the Enforcers of cleaning the countryside of those rude worgs. I keep a tooth from each one my Sep'aak has slain and now my necklace is strung with a deathsmile of eighteen teeth. It is heavy with their raw spirits and dying breaths. It is a solemn garland and I remove it now to soon lay them all to rest. We are done fighting and have no more to say, except for when I thank them tomorrow in my services.

Ledwygg and my men and I have delivered twelve mother-worgs to Our Lord Durlane for judgement tonight. I had an instinct the Elder would know a bounty when he sees one and so I bring all of them defeated as captives to him for a gift. He is grateful and sees a good thing as well in the bellies of those beasts. I am glad to have made a right decision and he seems to think it as well for he now calls me Lieutenant. My dearest children, that is another kind of name for a soldier but a better one than I was yesterday. I think I am a better woman for it too but there is no name for that and so Lieutenant it shall be. Lieutenant Copitzin.

I did not earn this alone and am so grateful for the Enforcers who helped with not only the worgs but also the villagers. Slowly we make amends and heal for any wrongs by our success with extermination. Our work with the worg beasts may now be over, but Harold is chosen by the Elder to help keep them until it is decided what may be done. Perhaps they would make good guards. Our Lord says that if they misbehave they can always be slain and then this thing re-animated. That means bringing the dead back to movement but not life. I should be used to this in the Land of the Dead by now but I do not think anything will get me used to the terrible idea of walking corpses made so by men. Some acts of animation I think are best done only by gods.

There is no mistake of my writing above that Ledwygg did help us today. It felt so right and marvelous to be outdoors with him and working together again instead of apart. To manage it without upsetting anyone who still thinks he is King of Worgs we did it some in disguise. This may sound silly or strange but we work with him shaped as a horse and me riding him as any other. I have ridden other horses and I can say it is still hard but with Ledwygg-as-horse I need only think of where to go and he is already doing it for me. He feels where I lean and where I am interested in moving I think. It makes the work easy and exciting at the same time.

Tonight is the first time that I must have kept a tight rein. He still hates the worgs too much for the mistake and I hold him back from further harm. But through that all it was still a day where our every move felt as a dance. It is days like this that tell me why I am so filled with the wonder of my mate and his nature. Ours is a rare love and the stuff of songs.

That is why it made me sad to tell him that I must leave for a while on a journey. I do not think he saw this in my future and now it is a surprise that I must do such a thing alone. I have been so busy with the worgs that my nagual is some alone out there also. She needs me and calls for me at night. I know what needs to be done -- when she next calls I will follow. Ledwygg's eyes plea with me not to leave him alone with his own creature but my nagual needs me now more than him if that is possible. He is strong. He will be fine I pray.

I have set some things in a bag, I have oiled my Sep'aak, and I will go when the young jaguar next cries out her name for me.

I remain,
Xocoyocopitzin

3-Rabbit, Month of Death

I have left my mirror-book behind and write instead on a fold of paper I have brought with me on my journey. How can I describe how wonderful it feels to be writing under my own stars? I have been waiting for this day for many months and now it is finally true. My nagual, the one I call Yahuitonatzin the Nightsun has brought me here to show me her land, the land of the jungles south of Texcoco. It is the land where all is green and the air is thick with moisture in my lungs. It is the land of the Middle World under my own stars. Here is how we came to this beautiful place:

It was true, the Nightsun was looking for me only one night ago, calling me up out of my sleep to join her on more than just one of our midnight runs. As I promised I place a kiss upon my mate's brow and rise to join my nagual on our journey. She takes me in a direction different from our usual courses, and this way we run for nearly half a day. When the sun is high in the sky she comes upon a cave, and I think it is to enter only for a cool nap as she likes to take. What do you know if she enters the cave and keeps on creeping? I follow her of course and it is not even ten minutes before the cave is coming out in another place -- in the same kind of manner as the cave that brought us over to Mictlan! At first I think we are entering outside into a storm because it is so dark but when I look up I do not see clouds or rain. I see my stars, all the bright sky-battalions of Centzon Mimixcoa and Centzon Huitznahuac. It is midnight in the Middle World and my nagual has brought me here! I fall to my knees in the soil with joy and disbelieving but the Nightsun does not want to linger. She urges me on as if there is a great danger on this threshold. I follow, and we do not stop again for nearly three hours. Up in one of one thousand trees we camp and wait for dawn.

I see the Sixth Sun rise behind a temple that is taller and sharper than those of Texcoco. The Nightsun tells me that is where I need to go. I sense danger in all her language and ask if that is the only reason she has brought me here. She seems nervous and says no. That is all she will say on the matter. She gets the skitters near cities some. I wonder why she is still being shy with me or just being mysterious the same way My Elder is. If any are guilty of speaking in riddles I am too, and so I allow her this for a while. All will come in time and it is clear the city will come first.

We descend from the tree to enter the edge of the temple's city and I have the strange sensation of not moving so well, as if I am being squeezed from all sides. I am too busy to bother with it and simply watch for a while the morning activities of the slaves and mothers on the city's edge. Finally I step into the street but the Nightsun will not come. She feels cities are not her place and she will wait for me there. I walk with much staring and whispers from the slaves to a woman on a litter who seems noble enough to speak to. It is only after many tries that I see she does not understand a word I say. I feel as if I am in Mictlan all over again with not a body to help. But she is thinking with her eyes as they roam over my garments. Is it shameful to feel a pride for one's pelt? I am the only one I know of with a white pelt instead of yellow as most the jaguars here, or black as some are rare. Indeed white is the color of death, from the Land of the Dead where I just came. She looks at me as if greeting an old ghost.

She sends a slave away to run on an errand and holds me with her curious gaze as she speaks in a tongue stranger than Common. I smile and raise a hand to my own neck that is bare, since she is wearing a feathered collar that is very pretty across the shoulder. It is true the best featherworks come from the south and after seeing the morning birds from the top of our tree I can see why the offerings of Texcoco's feather-markets are tiny in compare to those of the jungle itself. She smiles again but there is not much more we can say.

After what seems a long while but is only minutes the slave returns with a man behind him. I can see from his garments and the mirror upon his chest that he too is a shaman or something like one. He greets me in two tongues before the tongue of something near Alcohuan, and it is a relief.

Already in these short hours this man Ch'ahom Balaam has become a great ally to me. His wife has fed me well as we speak slowly in simple words of the journey from Mictlan, which is the place his people call Xibalba. That is how I know for sure we are in the Middle World of the Mayalands. He knows how hard it has been because he has been to the underworld too. I have all his sympathies that I have chosen to stay because of finding a mate and the Enforcers. I do not yet tell him that my mate is something like what we might call a monster. Perhaps in the morning we shall speak on that part more.

We do speak as shaman-to-shaman on the nature of my mate's wholeness, and that I feel a good part of why I am brought here now is to gather medicines to help his healing. As my Elder agrees Ledwygg's is a difficult case. Usually it is not so hard to heal and retrieve a part of a soul that is lost in a body, but what does one do when there are too many souls inside one body? They are rare cases and that kind of knowledge is not usually passed on unless needed because it is not useful in daily works. Much care should be taken to determine if there are two souls indeed instead of one split apart or there could be a great accident with the wrong kind of healing. He will confer with his elders to help say what should be done. He does recognize our work so far as that of the Firefly line from his journeys to the north and is glad to see nothing drastic has yet passed. We are some famous for our restraint and gentle ways. I have My Elder to thank for the thing reputation.

Ch'ahom Balaam and his wife invite me to stay but I gently decline. I am nervous for my nagual from her unease this afternoon and so choose to sleep with the jaguar in her tree. The shaman does not think me mad and laughs instead. He promises we may gather medicines tomorrow and to stay out of the city so Yahuitonatzin may be comfortable and join us.

It is warm enough that I have removed my leggings which seem to be binding from perhaps the heat. Here with the breeze on my legs and lying in the tree-cradle beneath my stars I am so happy. There is only one thing missing. I will sing a short song for him now and see if it would carry to my Singing-Coyote's daydreams.

I remain,
Xocoyocopitzin

4-Water, Month of Death

This is the most ridiculous thing. I can not even fit in my leggings anymore. What did Ch'ahom Balaam's First Wife feed me last night to make me so plump? It is dawn now and Yahuitonatzin has left to find herself a meal. I will leave for the same and the market where I may find a huipil skirt like the rest of the women: In cueitl, in huililli. Skirts and blouses -- so much still we are but only garments to men.

4-Water, Month of Death

Today Ch'ahom Balaam takes me to find the medicines I need. Some are too far away to be gathered myself but can be bought at market. Who am I to complain for the chance? My coins are strange to them but are quickly melted in exchange for cacao beans that all will accept. Most of what I need can be found without a price at all anyway.

The shaman takes me to the dim and rotting teonanacatl gardens where I may pick the tender flesh of the gods in early bloom. I taste one, and then another for its potency. Yahuitonatzin lingers close behind, and Ch'ahom Balaam tells me a thing he knows about her caution. This is not the first time he has seen this jaguar near his city.

She is in danger, he says. A warrior has been stalking her for over an entire cycle as if he owns her hide already and only waits for her to grow larger so it may cover his own back in battle. He is some mistaken to not recognize her as an Untouchable One. I look to her for an explanation and she agrees if only in reluctance for not murdering him sooner. I am enraged for the enemy who is cruel to torture this young creature with the idea of her own death. This is her home and she belongs to it in life just as much as any other. If this warrior-man so much as raises a spear her way the only claw that will cross his sorry chest is that of my own Sep'aak I swear it.

Indeed my nagual has much growing up to do and as destiny would laugh at me, so do I. Ch'ahom Balaam tells me an idea of why I had to buy a new huipil. It is the Smoking Mirror's blessing upon me from the day I stepped into Mictlan: is it no small story he is also the lord of eternal youthfulness? The shaman too calls it a curse: when one is no longer in Mictlan the times catch up with the body, and it hurts the flesh some from growing too fast. He looks at how much my body has changed since just last night and asks if I may like to be Fourth Wife to him since I do not have a mate in the Middle World. I decline and we do not speak of it further. I cannot blame the man to ask, they are so much like dogs with noses up the skirt.

The teonanacatl begins to clear my mind and it is then that Ch'ahom Balaam shows me the last medicine I need. He takes me to the mines to meet with the keeper of healingstones. I find some that are singing for me that I know My Elder needs, and I wait for one to sing out for Ledwygg, too. One stone finds me. It is a clear and small crystal. He is not singing for Ledwygg though -- the stone sings for Kebezh I am sure of it. I do not know if Kebezh wants a crystal but I trade for it anyway. The stone gives me an idea of what to do.

All of this hard and serious healers work has been tiresome for Yahuitonatzin and I spend the remainder of the day in wrestle and play with her, and some time bathing this body that is the same and yet not the same as it used to be. Tonight I join Ch'ahom Balaam and his two Elders for a meal and meeting. I believe it is time I tell all on the matter of my mate if they are to be of any true help before I leave.

I remain,
Xocoyocopitzin

5-Dog, Month of Death

Bac-Tul the warrior they call Bone Rabbit should be sorry he crossed my path as Yahuitonatzin and I bathed this morning. He is none but a greedy fool to think he may have the Nightsun's hide for his own. Cha'hom Balaam tells me Bone Rabbit is somewhat sick in the heart and it does not take a shaman to see how sick as the man wasted his seed on the sight of us together alone at the river's edge. If my Sep'aak were not still high in my tree I would have gutted his sickness out of him before he had a chance to finish his job. He shakes his obsidian lance at me to think of making me afraid as any other poor woman. I am sorry but I must insist for the Nightsun to sleep inside with me at Cha'hom Balaam's hut this evening. She is too young and small to face an armed yaotl as large and crazy as he. I will deal with Bone Rabbit directly before I leave tomorrow.

Last night the Elders and I journeyed together to the Upper World for answers as to how to heal the souls of my Singing Coyote. Cha'hom Balaam is a master of journeys with the teonanacatl allies which my own Elder does not have the taste for. The plant allies of Cha'hom Balaam gave us many good advisements of which I think two may work. I am right to draw the creature inside out to meet it, the allies say, but I must tread ever gently and be watchful with each step. I must also remember Ledwygg first in all of this. The allies feel the strength of my curiosity for the dark and wild spirit inside him but warn that if Ledwygg wants the spirit out of his body I will have no choice but to allow it and not interfere. These are all things my own elder has told me before but it is good to hear it again from spirits even older and wiser than he.

I wonder now if my elder Collicoptli also has Tezcatlipoca's Gift for youth and if he is not trying to cheat out of death by retreating with me into the Land of the Dead before it is his proper dying-time. Cha'hom Balaam's elders say perhaps that is true, that his soul still has work to do, much longer than the body would have lasted. It has been done before and only with the Smoking Mirror's blessing. I notice that the eyes of the Elder Firefly have not gotten much worse or the shaking either since we journeyed to Mictlan. That is an interesting thing to think on and an even more precious gift for us both: we are given the gift of Time.

It has been a long day of talks and debates with Cha'hom Balaam and his elders on healing ways for me to use with the stones and herbs I have traded for. I ask if any have tried to heal Bone Rabbit of his delusions and illnesses and they report that it is impossible to heal one who does not wish it.

This leaves me little choice but to defend myself and mine.

I remain,
Xocoyocopitzin

6-Monkey, Month of Death

I pray the Voraath Ancients were watching as I slit Bone Rabbit's stomach open with the teeth of my Sep'aak and wrapped his face with the organ of his stomach so he could choke on his own sickness with dying breaths. Let it be a lesson to the men of this village that lust over that which they may never have.

If I receive one more invivation to become Third or Fourth or Fifth wife I may have the glyph of refusal tattood across my cheek. I have forgotten how insistent Middle World men can be and it almost begins to make the men of Mictlan appear shy in compare. One would think there was a shortage of good women to wed but I think they are more concerned with mating a woman from the North for perhaps the protection and strength of the Alliance. How much I hate politics.

Bone Rabbit battled well and leaves me with a lanced calf and fond memories of his plea to take his life rather than take him captive. I am not about to drag a sorry and sick body such as his back to the Lower World and so do his bidding quickly with my blade. I have met a true yaotl this day and cry out as an animal for the fierce Voraath spirit that seizes me as the deed is done.

I have gathered what I came for and more in the Middle World. I pack now to pay my respects to the hosts before Yahuitonatzin and I depart.

I remain,
Xocoyocopitzin

9-Jaguar, Month of Death

I am in such relief to be home again. Is that not strange that I can so easily call Mictlan home now? My memories of the Middle World fade already and have the quality of a dream. Usually it is men from the Middle World that travel to the Lower Worlds for the knowledge they need. I am all backwards and do it the opposite way. Everything is backwards here anyway so I am sure it is no harm.

Through the new knowledge given by Cha'hom Balaam's allies I called forth Kebezh for meeting with me. He knows few words but shows signs to be intelligent. Ledwygg still struggles to keep him under rein, and it hurts like stretching muscles fast these first few times. I speak of simple things with the spirit. It is hard to say whether he likes me from what I have seen, but I trust what Ledwygg knows and that is this: Kebezh finds me to be very easy to hate. I give the spirit a choice to be friends and hate is the one he continues to make. It is uncomfortable to bring these feelings upon my mate's body, and now I see how it sickens him so.

The second time I called Kebezh it was much easier than before. Ledwygg was near sleep and so only looked through the thin veil of his thoughts as we spoke. Kebezh moved the body with all the grace of Ledwygg himself instead of the fits and twitches that Ledwygg's control brings upon his arms and face. His body seemed to sing quietly of freedom but he did not tell me of it. I bring the spirit a box of gifts for his very own, some wood and things to keep for himself so he will know the joy of things that are all his and not shared, like the vessel.

Kebezh is not yet impressed. I sense he plots something but what I do not yet know.

I remain,
Xocoyocopitzin

10-Eagle, Month of Death

Tonight I again meet with Kebezh. He comes so easily now it takes a moment or more for me to realize who I am speaking to. I know it now when all warmth is gone from his voice, and his eyes turn from blue to only cold stones. He is a handsome creature I will admit. His contempt arouses something dark in me.

On 9-Jaguar the spirit Kebezh asked me to put his gifts in a place where Ledwygg would not know, and this gave me an idea for a trick. I hide the box of things beneath my quail coops, and remove the dying lily-flower I locked inside to replace it with the crystal I found singing for Kebezh in the Middle World. All I need is for him to touch it and indeed that is all I get when he finds the healing stone and holds it once in his hand. There is first a look in his eyes to cast it away as Ledwygg wanted to cast the carving into the fire, but he leaves it be. By leaving the stone in the box he signals to keep it as a thing of his own. That is even better than a simple touch.

This creature is hard to understand for all his hate. I barely recognize my mate in him at all as I watch him walk back from the quail coops to our house. I study him carefully as I would study any other prey. I think by now he knows to make no more false moves toward me for attack, but to my surprise he turns his anger instead against Ledwygg by dropping his body into our hearth fire to burn. Kebezh buries himself deep inside Ledwygg as a coward and allows Ledwygg's spirit to surface and suffer the pain.

If Kebezh wishes me to hate him now for harming my mate this way, it is working. I can not offer my friendship to this spirit any longer.

Soon it will be war.

I remain,
Xocoyocopitzin

12-Movement, Month of Death

It is a good thing I have already prepared for all outcomes. This afternoon Del delivers to me the darts I asked her to make that are similar to those we used for calming the worg beasts. But these darts are not for worgs. They are drugged for Ledwygg's body in the case it is not given back to him for control as I speak to Kebezh.

I have not stopped wearing the belt that carried the darts for worgs and so it is an easy exchange that none will ever suspect, not even Ledwygg, which is better that perhaps he does not know I carry arms against him in a way. I do not need to trouble his mind further with my cautions, even though he worries the most of us about my safety. I am now worried more for his own safety than mine in that the spirit might do something rash. I wonder if Kebezh knows if he raises another claw my way he will have twelve or more Enforcers along with Tyg and Alex ready to slit his body's throat? Ledwygg knows it, I am sure. I begin to wonder if Kebezh even cares.

Del has prepared the drugs in such a way that I may use up to three darts to calm the body to the point of not moving, and to make the spirit lazy enough to loosen his hold on control. In the most dire situation I may use the fourth dart which has a thing in it to trigger a deadly dose in the blood. I pray to my Lords and even the Ancients that I may never need to use any of them at all.

Aurethaen says his Ancients may watch for me now, especially the one named Huurmok, He of Battle who watched while I wrapped the face of my enemy in his own entrails. Huurmok will see now the bone dokath bead Aurethaen has woven into my hair and perhaps place more enemies on my path. I was too surprised to extend the usual precautions when the Voraath took my hair in hand but I can feel that he did not take any of my tonal with the act and instead added strength to it.

With the honor of the Ancients' acceptance of my act comes the knowledge of how to use the Sep'aak. I am done struggling in the dark without the light of instruction. Aurethaen shows me eight or more attacks and my body is near shattered with their force. He struck the breath from me with such a fierce blow that for a moment I wondered what under this earth I had agreed to in training with his way. I can see already there will not be much explaining and mostly instead demonstration and suffering through what blows I need to take or avoid. There is a victory in each avoidance but there is a harder lesson with each bite of the blade through my flesh. My body remembers to not let it happen again. My elbow remembers. My ribs remember. My belly, where he spared the death-blow to my gut, remembers most of all.

I failed, that much is true, but I did not leave the Voraath without wounds of his own. Let it be known it is not the first time I have blooded Aurethaen, and neither will it be my last. I swear on it.

I have written of some things in confidence today meant only for the eyes of my children, and so leave now to carry my mirror-book to Tenth Tree House where Collicoptli may keep it from curious eyes until this effort with Kebezh is over. I will not have my own defenses turned against me for the flaw of an open heart.

I remain,
Xocoyocopitzin

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