Ronon still struggled with the light. It was near-blinding if he looked directly at the shimmering horizon. But as he ran, the objective began to become apparent. In the far distance, there did seem to be a break in the flawless sheets of ice. At first it looked like a rocky outcrop, a narrow fringe of dark against the glass-like terrain. But soon there was no mistaking it. There were huge objects, and they were moving. From such a range Ronon couldn’t make out much detail, but it was clear that they were big.
He kept running, determined not to fall behind the more experienced hunters. Now that they were on the move, his longer legs gave him an advantage. The jar’hram felt light and supple in his hands. Just as it had done many times when hunting Wraith in far-flung worlds across the galaxy, the thrill of the chase began to take control of him. He felt his heart beating, his lungs working powerfully. The last of the chill left him and a savage heat kindled in his heart.
The Buffalo had seen them and the nearest of them began to break into a lumbering run. They were still some distance away.
Orand looked over at Ronon as he ran. He had a feral expression of joy in his eyes.
“This is it, big man!” he cried, whirling the jar’hram loosely around him as he loped. “Are you prepared?”
“Believe it,” growled Ronon, picking up the pace.
The hunt had begun.
Unlike Ronon, Teyla had no trouble slipping under the low doorways and between the various chambers of the settlement. The big Satedan had taken several bruises with him on the hunt. Teyla found herself wondering how he was fairing. With any luck, he was enjoying the sun on his skin. She was glad to be in the relative warmth for once, not chasing around and having to use her own considerable martial skills. The chance to immerse herself in an alien culture, to take some time to try and understand how the people of another world ordered themselves, was a rare privilege. She intended to exploit it to the full.
“Where are we taking this?” she said to Miruva.
The Forgotten woman carried the product of her labor, a circular mat made from the dried plains grass. It was much smaller than others Teyla had seen. She guessed that the scarcity of materials forced compromises to be made.
“This is to be placed in the Hall of the Artisans,” said Miruva, proud of her creation. “There will be many other items there. In due course, the Elders will come to judge their merit. Those deemed worthy will grace the dwellings of our leaders. I am hoping that mine will be chosen.” She slid Teyla a rueful smile. “My position is somewhat difficult, of course. My father heads the ruling council, and is a fair-minded man. As a result, he has never used his vote in my favor, and others have taken the prize. But I’m proud of this one. You never know.”
Teyla looked at the woven disk again. Miruva had created a ring of geometric shapes around the rim, all of which tessellated with each other wonderfully. In the center of the mat, there was a depiction of a hunting scene, as there seemed to be in all the Forgotten artwork. The White Buffalo was woven using a series of swirls to indicate movement. The diminutive figures of hunters surrounded the great animal in heavily stylized form. The colors Miruva had chosen were muted and subtle. Each hunter was a different shade, though it was difficult to make out in the flickering torchlight.
“Look carefully,” she said to Teyla, her eyes shining. “What do you make of the blue hunter?”
Teyla took the mat from Miruva and held it up to the light. The figure was almost the same as the others, except that it had a female shape. The Athosian smiled, and handed the mat back. “Will you get in trouble for that?”
Miruva shrugged. “What if I do? I told you your ideas were beginning to have an effect on me. For the time being, women hunters will only exist in tapestries and weaving. Maybe one day they’ll take their places in the real world.”
Teyla wondered if Miruva herself could make such a leap. Though outwardly shy and deferential, there seemed to be a core of steel to the young woman.
“I hope that is so, Miruva,” she said, placing her hand on the girl’s shoulder.
“We are here,” Miruva said, and pulled aside a hanging from the entrance in front of them.
They entered a wide hall, somewhat like the assembly chamber, but smaller and lower. Elaborate drapes covered every wall, and the floor was strewn with mats and weavings of many shapes. Miruva’s wasn’t the smallest, but it wasn’t far off. Many of the other items seemed to use grass recycled from previous artifacts. The hall could have held twice the number assembled there with room to spare.
Miruva looked confident as she placed her mat near the center of the chamber.
“This is all new grass,” she said, proudly. “I walked long and far to find it before the snow came for good. The key to this competition is detail. A larger object will not necessarily win the prize.”
Teyla nodded in appreciation. She cast her gaze across the panoply of woven artifacts, admiring the consistent skill. As she did so, she noticed something strange, high up on the bare rock walls.
“What is that?” she said to Miruva, pointing at an ornate shape engraved on the surface.
The Forgotten looked at it casually. It looked like it had once been carved deep into the unyielding rock, but was now faint and indistinct. The shape was complex. It could have been an inscription, or maybe a diagram.
“I don’t know,” she said. “There are marks of this kind scattered throughout the settlement. I have always assumed they were placed there by the builders of this place.”
Teyla strained her eyes to see more clearly. “Maybe so,” she said. “But I have seen such marks elsewhere. On my home planet, there is a place where engravings are commonplace. Dr McKay has studied the technology of the Ancients, perhaps he will be able to decipher it.”
For some reason, as she spoke, a chill passed through her. The glyph had an unsettling aura. She turned her gaze from it. Something to raise with Aralen, perhaps.
Miruva smiled at the mention of Rodney. “Is that the angry man?” she said, suppressing a laugh. “He is very popular here amongst the young people. They are calling him the Greedy One. He finished twice the normal portion of stew in his first night here.”
“I am sure he will appreciate the gesture,” Teyla said, knowing full well he wouldn’t. “He is an interesting man. Despite his… foibles, he is steeped in the ways of the Ancestors. If any of us are able to decipher it, it is he.”
Miruva paused, and looked at Teyla with a searching expression. “You speak of the Ancestors as if they were far away, and yet as if you were intimately connected with them.”
Teyla felt a little uncomfortable. The fiction that Atlantis was destroyed would one day surely come out into the open. For now, however, the Wraith had still to discover their error. Until that day came, they all had to be careful.
“We have traveled widely,” said Teyla, choosing her words carefully. “The Ancestors left their mark in many places, and we have learned much of their ways. There are some of us capable of using their technology with the power of the mind alone. Colonel Sheppard is one such man. Even those without the gift can now be helped to understand the Ancestor’s technology. We are not the Ancestors, Miruva. But we are moving closer to understanding their secrets.”
Miruva looked thoughtful.
“To use the Ancestor’s machines using only your mind…” she murmured, clearly pondering the possibilities. “That would be marvelous indeed.”
The young woman lapsed into thoughtfulness. Teyla regarded her carefully. It was entirely possible that some of the Forgotten possessed the ATA gene. If there were any descendants of the Ancestors among them, then such a thing should have been possible. However, as the only Ancient artifact they knew about — the Stargate — had been lifeless for generations, they could have had no way of knowing.