Our clan is the Black Bear, with a wyter of the same name. The wyter's awareness ability is "detect undead" (the wyter was once a humakit hero), with the effect that the clan's swords and daggers start glowing.
Our clan used to be part of the Malani, but after Kallyr's revolt we chose exile, and now have a marginal tula on the edge of the upland swamp.
When I was little we treated the "Bright Blades" drill like a game. We'd have races to the stead, or long arguments about if you were on Three-Oak hill whether it would be better to run to the main stead, or to the smaller Summer-Field compound. We'd speculate, if we were too far from a stead, would we really dare crowd into the middle of the cattle and trust them to protect us? The older kids would tell gruesome stories about walking corpses tearing down weaker buildings with their rotting hands, then eating the faces of everyone sheltering inside. After initiation boys and girls alike would make a show of checking their daggers from time to time, and the woman of the clan would wear their daggers proudly, a badge of clan pride, but only when it wasn't inconvenient.
Oh, we knew it could happen, but we trusted in Black Bear to give ample warning and for the thanes and fyrd heed their glowing swords and come to protect us in good time. So mostly, we treated it as a game.
The same instructions that we were given then, I to my nieces and nephews now: "If you hear the shout go up "Bright Blades!" Or if you see the swords and daggers start to glow, start running right away. If you are with warriors, do what they say. If not, head to the main stead if you don't see anyone in the way and you can run that far without stopping. If you can't make it to the main stead, go to one of the other farm buildings and lock yourself inside, and keep screaming so we know somebody is there. If you can't make it to one of those buildings, go in amongst the cattle. Get between calves if you can, their mothers will defend them just about to the death so just might save you as well-—but they might trample you in the process, that is why I keep trying to get you to pay attention to the cattle and know how they react. If you are away from the buildings and the herds without a warrior, you probably deserve what you get, but if you scream loud enough maybe the ancestors will have pity and we will find you before the walking corpses do."
They don't giggle and wiggle and ask in mock horror if the walking corpses really take the bodies of the dead to swell their numbers. They listen in attentive silence, faces showing their fear. When we walk out in the fields and I ask "What would you do if you were here and the "Bright Blades" call went up?" The answer comes back right away and dead serious "Whatever you told us." When I ask "And if I wasn't here?" they scan around seriously, and give cold-blooded responses.
When six year old Rana said "I'm not a very good runner. If I killed myself with my knife would they really bother with a body as small as mine?" I had to walk away for a minute so they wouldn't see my tears of rage and sadness. I thought of the goose girls double-checking that they have their daggers before leaving the stead, and the new initiands taking their first dagger with a look of dread. I'm glad they take it seriously, it might keep them alive for a few more years, but my soul revolts about making them live those years in fear. I pray to our ancestors that some day these kids will be able to laugh and joke about it.
Then I compose my face, and turn back to the children. "Rana, I don't think killing yourself would help. Just don't go wandering too far out alone and you'll be fine. Now, what would you do if it was raining hard and crooked brook was flooded when the "Bright Blades" call went up?"
Powered by hypermail