Totoma did not get blessings in the mountains. In the snow and rocks, a mother's strength, the children's strength, and the strength of a tribe's will were what they relied on. Coming down to the Swamp introduced the Totoma to the concept of a blessing, but some were not keen on adopting the customs of the Swamp over what they knew. First blood was one of these Totoma. She grew up in the mountains and watched does carry lambs and give birth and raise them without a blessing.Heavy with lambs, First Blood continued on with her life as if nothing were different. She had no intention of changing her lifestyle because she was about to have lambs. She would train them to live honorably and she hoped to see all of them gain names. It was while she was climbing around a heavily rooted, tangled area of the Swmap, testing her nimbleness, that a cheetah suddenly dropped down in front of her."Congratulations," a voice echoed. First Blood narrowed her eyes at the cheetah; cheetahs were not meant to speak.
"Thank you?" First Blood ventured out warily. She was not afraid, she could easily crush the cheetah, but still it paid to be cautious. Strange things happened when things out of the ordinary were dealt without caution.
"You look well. How are you feeling?" The voice bloomed again. First Blood ground her hoof, unnerved, against the root.
"Fine, quite well even, thank you. Are you the cheetah?" She ventured to ask, frowning.
The cheetah chirped, spilling over into a throaty laugh that was obviously not made for a cat's vocal chords, "Yes, I am the cheetah. I'm a Legendary, mountain-born one."
First Blood hummed, as if unconvinced, even though she knew that the cheetah spoke the truth. She shifted her weight slightly, not expecting the chance for a blessing and certainly not looking for one, but given the chance, it seemed a waste not to ask, "Can you bless my children?"
"I can, though I ask that you answer a question first. Would you be okay for that?" The cheetah's voice laughed.
First Blood nodded, she did not care to use words unless she needed to.
The cheetah nodded back, "Very well then. What do you miss most about the Mountains that were once your home? What of that would you want your children to taste?"
There was a long silence, filled only by the cicada song, as First Blood considered her answer. "I miss the honor of battle, of words spoken with force, meaning, and blood. I miss living on the precipice of controlled violence that is not hatred and rage, but honor and respect. I want my children to know honor even if they do not know violence."
It was the cheetah's turn to consider her words. Finally, she spoke, "May your children honor themselves, their dreams, their desires, and each other. Let honor lead their hooves steady and sure."
"Thank you," First Blood said, somber.
"You're welcome!" And the cheetah disappeared, leaving First Blood standing amongst the tangle.