Chapter 1: Nightmare
“No!” Nyriaana screamed, waking herself from a fitful sleep. The smoky world resolved into the clear, familiar shapes of home, and the beating of hooves morphed to the heavy thudding of her own heart.
It was still dark. The hush of pre-dawn hung thick upon the air. Nyri drew comfort from the living walls cradling her in their embrace and let the silver shivering of leaves outside soothe the rush of blood in her ears. She flexed her hands to rid them of the panic-induced tingle. She was safe, and the monsters of her dreams were far away.
For the moment, at least.
Nyri lay back, stirring the moss and leaves of her resting place. Breathing in the earthy scents of her home, she centred herself, stilling her soul.
In a well-worn routine, Nyri blocked the dream from her mind. She should not dwell. No amount of grieving would bring those loved and lost back to the living. They walked now in the company of the Great Spirit, riding the wind, flowing in the waters, never to look back or return. It was a hard lesson her people had learned well; they who lived in death’s constant company.
But Nyriaana could not forget. She would never forget.
Keeping her eyes closed, she stretched her senses beyond her body, feeling for the ever-present flow of the Great Spirit of KI and her place within his world. Nyri could feel Him in the slow, stately presence of the trees, the silent sentinels of life that supported them all. He was there in the quick intent of the birds. A snake concentrating on being invisible as it lurked outside of a nest. Nyri felt the individual spirits of the people; all that remained of her once vibrant tribe. So few and yet their energy shimmered with vital thought and hope as they woke to the rising of Ninmah, the great Golden Mother. Indeed, as Her warm veil crept slowly into the sky, chasing the darkness before Her, the troubles that stalked their lives seemed very far away.
Nyri sensed the summoning before she heard it.
“Nyriaana!”
Kyaati’s presence was an insistent nag on the ground outside the giant tree. Nyri threw an arm over her eyes and groaned. She would have liked to have been left alone with her thoughts for a little longer, but Ninmah was awakening and there were duties to attend to.
I’m coming. Nyri extended the intent. She pictured Kyaati’s arms folding, her toes scraping impatiently at the dark earth.
Rising in one smooth movement, Nyri emerged from the thick nest of moss, feathers and leaves that filled the cradle of branches that was her bower. She shivered in the cool air. It was early Fall, but the morning was as chill as if it were already passing into Ninsiku’s Fury. She tried to ignore the sense of apprehension this evoked. It was always cold now. Reaching for her leaf-leather coverings, she donned them gratefully, grabbing a woven Gathering basket as she went.
“Ninmah’s greetings.” She flashed a smile to Kyaati as she swung down from her tree. Dawn mist swirled in the semi-light as she landed. Nyri was expecting the lash of Kyaati’s tongue, barbed with irritation, but her friend said nothing. She just eyed Nyri’s agility with thinly veiled envy.
“Ninmah’s greetings,” she replied in a clipped tone. Her hands smoothed over her rounded belly; nearly full with child. The skin around Kyaati’s pale lavender eyes was tight, the smooth, honey skin of her forehead creased beneath her silvery-white hair. “We’d better hurry or we’ll be late for the Gathering.”
Nyri’s heart dropped like a stone. The Gathering. She wasn’t in the mood for a Gathering. As always in the wake of one of her nightmares, she just wanted to be alone or, better yet, to be with Baarias, burying herself in his teachings. She did not wish to spend the morning wandering the failing groves, struggling to find what little food there was while looking into the faces of barely fed children learning at their heels. It was too stark a reminder of what they faced.
Nyriaana masked these feelings from Kyaati, however. It would not do for her mother-to-be companion to guess her thoughts. If Kyaati detected her reluctance, she chose not to show it. Deep down, Nyri knew she was most likely feeling the same. Probably worse.
They walked in companionable silence as the light of Ninmah grew stronger. The cool mist that shrouded the eshaara grove began to lift and the great, red-gold trees became more clearly defined. As she listened to the music of the river flowing away in the forest beyond, she made her customary blessing to Ninmah for the gift of this sanctuary. Without it, her people would not be here to worship the Golden Mother’s beauty.
The horrors of her dream broke through her control and danced before Nyri’s eyes. Maybe it would be easier to bear if they were just that. Dreams. Not genuine memories of a burned life.
That night, seven long Furies ago, the Woves had not just taken lives, but everything her People’s existence depended upon. They had razed the trees to the ground. Shelter, food sources, everything. Gone.
