Kråkepiler

↟ The clan of the raven that carries the arrow ↟

Beginnings
A young wolf without a name and without a family was born by the wind howling between the mighty rocks. The roots of the trees clinging to the ledges taught him resilience, and the peaks of the mountains, scraping the mighty sky, called him to unknown lands. The roots of the trees clinging to the ledges taught him resilience, and the peaks of the mountains, scraping the mighty sky, called him to unknown lands.
When a raven flying after a blizzard parted with his wings for friendship with a wolf, the wolf got a name. He named himself Barskog. Coniferous forest.
Together, the two travelers rode along streams and hunted under giant trees. They explored their native mountains and new lands, making new friends.
The clan, no less mysterious than the leader himself, grew. In this clan, powerful nature spirits took on bodies of flesh and blood; and the new friends of these spirits, freedom-loving wolves, gained wisdom from them and passed it on to new generations of the clan.

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The Great Journey
-- There, in the north, between huge trees and giant ice mountains, there are flat lands! rivers shimmer with fish scales, and snowdrifts take on the features of a wolf or a hare.
-- I dreamed of these lands every night when I slept on the ledges of rocks. The mountains lead me there.
-- There's not much that we're used to. There are no tall trees to shelter from a thunderstorm, and the scruff of a wolf can be seen from a mile away. But this harsh new world breathes - it breathes the spirits and wisdom of the ancestors, every rock, every breath of wind. There are still unfamiliar gods to us.
-- We have explored these lands far and wide, and now the raven carrying the arrow has changed its flight. I hear him croak.
-- Will you lead us there, Barskog?
-- Yes. Now is the time. Guide us, snowwing.

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New lands, new gods
Well, the story would not continue if the clan of the raven that carries the arrow didn't manage to survive on the harsh lands of the tundra. They were led by a leader who bordered on the real and the spiritual, and his eyes were a raven whose black wing was born in a snowstorm. Behind them were spirits protecting the lives of older and younger members of the pack, and there were hunting wolves, from whose teeth not a single hare escaped.
They had to explore new lands and meet new gods and spirits who would teach them new things. Together they were not afraid to spend the night under the huge sky and feel the frozen ground under their paws. Night frosts thickened their coats, cunning prey made their eyes sharp, and the earth and the icy north wind spurred their swift run.
If there was a snowstorm, they slept with their sides tightly pressed against each other so that the White Giants running across the tundra could not break the clan.

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Great White Giants
-- Mom, is it true that you saw White Giants hunting? Tell me! Mom!
-- Ah, well, well, just be quiet, you'll wake up your sister...
-- Is it true that they are really gigantic, that their heads are the size of three bison?
-- Yes it's true. They are truly gigantic, although their fluffy white paws make no sound as they scurry across the tundra. They do not bark, but howl loudly, as no wolf in the whole world is able to howl. They run, scratching the ground with their sharp claws and playfully biting each other on the back of the neck with mighty fangs, which only mountain lions have. And they rush so fast that they raise all the snow that lies on the tundra, and they do not see you under their paws, even if you are the biggest wolf that your clan has ever seen.
-- And who are they hunting?
-- The White Giants are chasing the great reindeer, the wise elder of the tundra, whom no one will ever hunt down or catch.
-- And when I grow up, can I hunt with the Giants?
-- Then you will have to eat a lot to grow so much... But now you need to sleep. In the morning I will go hunting again.
-- Will you tell me what these Giants are like if you meet them again?
-- Yes, I'll tell you... Now sleep.