Windsisters

In the beginning, the World was empty. Mostly it was Water, salty, with only a hump of Land at its navel. I know it seems impossible to you, my children, all that open water, stretching father than the eye can see, as it seemed to me when I was your age, but this is how it was; the sun shone on nothing but Water, wide and empty, with a small dab of rock and soil. And so it stayed for many, many years.

But after a time the Goddess saw that the Water and the Land were lacking. So she spilled her monthly course into the Water, and caused to grow from her Blood, the Small Peoples. And the Small Peoples lived in the Water, being born and giving birth, living and growing and dying, each one bringing her own melody to the Endless Song as we all do. And the Water and the light of the Sun gave them all they needed. And so it stayed for many, many years.

But after a time the Goddess saw that the Water and the Land and the Small Peoples were also lacking. So she blew of her breath into them and caused to grow from the Small Peoples, the Great Peoples. From some of the Small Peoples grew the Rooted Peoples . And from others grew the Moving Peoples -- the Insects and the Fish, the Reptiles and the Birds and the Mammals -- until the Water was teeming with Life. And amongst them were our People, although we did not look then, like we look now. All the Peoples lived together in the life-giving Water, being born and giving birth, eating and being eaten, each adding her own melody to the Endless Song, as we all do. And so it stayed for many, many years.

And this why the veins of all Peoples flow with wetness and why our lungs fill with Wind. Our essence is Water, our nature Wind.

What is that, my child? How did our People come to live on the Land? Ah, how we left our first home and came to our second and how we left our second home and came to the third -- these are other stories and the telling of them must wait until your hearts are ripe.

 

~Eldermother Altheliel

 

*****

 

Rainwatcher

Aila crouched in the shade of an overhanging rock, steadily rubbing a mixture of brain and melted fat into the hide of a skinkboa. From time to time she raised her eyes, scanning the sky. There would be no rain today; only a few clouds had drifted over the plains and these were very nearly purewhite with just the slightest hint of grey on their bellies. She glanced at the shadows on the rock beside her -- latenoon. She could return to the village now. There was little point remaining on the mesa if no rain was coming.

But the hide in front of her beckoned. It was nearly finished -- already the mottled brown scales of the skinkboa gleamed like her lover's eyes, and the creamy underside was nearly as soft as her bellyskin. By latelatenoon it would be done. If she went back to the village now, the eldermothers would assign her a new task, and the hide would have to wait until after nighttide; if she was too tired, until tomorrow. The delay wouldn't ruin it, but Aila hated to interrupt the work. The brainfat was smooth and slippery, and Aila found a quiet joy in the rhythmic massaging of skin into suppleness, in fingers that worked of their own volition while her mind rambled along previously untraveled paths, making up stories and exploring ideas that perhaps had never been thought by anyone ever before.

Aila scrambled from beneath the overhanging ledge, clambered to the mesatop, hoping for a miracle to rescue her. Her pulse quickened as she turned to the northwest; a fat cumulonimbus hung over the highlands! She turned her face to the breeze - moderately stiff. Was it was strong enough to blow the cloud across the mesa and out over the lowlands to spill its load on the tan plains of cactiflax below? The cloud was large, heavy with moisture. It sat well to west. And the wind was only moderate. Chances were good that the precious water would be wasted on barren mesa rock.

Aila pursed her lips. It had been eight days since a rainfall, and the village could use a harvest of cactiflax. They could survive for weeks without one, but life was far easier when the harvests were frequent. The wind might be strong enough, especially if it strengthened as it often did at the end of the day. She would wait, she decided, at least for a while, to see how the cloud progressed. If it made it to the edge of the lowlands by latelatenoon, then the runners could well get some exercise today. And if the waiting let her finish the skin, so much the better.