I lay face down on the dust between the clumps of spiky tussock grass, trembling with cold, my palms and face and all my being pressed against the earth. I began to relax, though the cold shook me. I thought of our Quelled myths about a massive fire that once lit the whole sky and made the earth warm. I imagined lying on a heated earth, with a warm light on my back. Bliss, surely. Slowly I felt the familiar throb and hum of vital energy. The hum went crosswise, at right angles to my body, and I was not in harmony with it.

I moved until I was in line, attuned to it. The hum intensified. I knew then where it came from – from the west, across the river. On my hands and knees I followed it, right down to the water’s edge. The power shimmered in the water, vibrated in my hands, surged and rang right through me. I stood up and tore off my outer dress. I dropped it on the rocks, and waded into the stream. The water came only to my thighs, but it was swift, and struck my skin like ice. Within seconds I was numb. But inside – inside I sang and burned with firestone power.

I waded across, my underskirts held high, the frigid water rushing all round; then climbed up on the other side, up across the rocks and dirt and slashing grass, and went running, racing, straight to the cleft between the rocks, straight to the hidden firestones. I picked several off the pile and threw them into the air, laughing and yelling.

I heard a splash, and noticed Dannii coming across the stream, unmindful of her clothes. She came running up to me, then slowed as she drew near, her heavy grey skirt dragging at her legs. Her face was white.

“I did it!” I cried, elated, gripping her arms, and kissing both her cheeks. She was shaking all over, and her skin was frozen. She was not smiling. Her look unsettled me, made me afraid. Slowly she knelt and touched the ground at my feet.

“Don’t do that, Dannii,” I said, crouching in front of her, and taking her hand. “We are equal, you and I.”

She shook her head, and I saw that her cheeks were wet. “You are woman, Elsha, high as the high lord, and with a power that equals his.”

“Don’t,” I said, trying to laugh. “If anyone heard you say that, you’d have your tongue torn out.”

“For truth?” She stood up. I stood with her, and we stayed there, frozen, shaking with cold and terror, while the wind turned our wet clothes to ice.

“Tell no one of this, Dannii,” I said. “Promise me.”

She said nothing, but bent and picked up several of the firestones, gathering them into the crook of her crippled arm. She came back and made a small pyramid of the firestones on the ground in front of me. She took a knife from a sheath at her belt, cut off a length of her hair and some of mine, and entwined the dark and the light together. She placed our hair across the firestones, then touched the ground near my feet, and stood up. The act was like a pledge, a promise, hallowed and binding. Her solemnity, her almost-awe, astounded and humbled me.