Saera returned to the ground-floor apartment off the Healers Square to find that  Sherrel and A'lisha had already changed her grandmother into an everyday robe and had her seated in her favorite chair in the sitting area.  The old woman was settled deeply into the high-backed chair; face, hair and robe glowing white against the ruby velvet.  Bone against blood.  Her hair was still in it's crown of braids and her eyes were still quite clear, sparkling sapphire blue in her porcelain face.

Her face lit with a smile when she saw her granddaughter.  "Saera!  I'm so glad you're here."  she paused to take a mug of tea from Sherrel  "Thank you, dear."

It went well, don't you think?" she asked as she turned back to Saera.  Saera smiled back, relieved to see that she hadn't simply collapsed after the ceremony.

"Very well, grandmother.  You were magnificent!"

"Yes, I was, wasn't I?" the blue eyes twinkled.  "I hate to miss the feast...but I don't want to get overtired and make a fool of myself."  Her mouth twisted with the bitterness of this admission.   She sank back into the chair and sipped her tea, quieted by the thought of her disability.

Saera sat on the ottoman, leaning forward to take her hand.  "Rest a bit, it will go on for hours yet."  Taking the priestess' feet into her lap, she removed the slippers and began to massage them gently.  "Maybe we can slip in quietly for a few moments, later.  I'm 
sure Sister Rhe'am has outdone herself with this feast, it would be a shame not to taste a bit."

Sherrel had settled herself on the love-seat, folding the ceremonial gown reverently.  She slipped bundles of dried herbs between the folds and sat it carefully on the
seat beside her.  "That's a good idea, I'm becoming quite hungry." 

"So am I!"  A'lisha leaned back in her chair, pulling her feet up under her.  "This has been a busy day.  I never had a chance to break my fast this morning."

Saera giggled as her own stomach growled. "I don't think any of us did.  We're all going to faint away from hunger, soon!"  her stomach agreed vociferously and all three girls laughed.

"Well then! Get my chair and lets see if there's any of this legendary feast left."  the former High-Priestess sat up, pulling her feet from Saera's lap.

Saera protested, "Oh, but grandmother, you need to rest!"

"I'll rest better with food in my stomach, it will soon be matching yours for volume!"

Sherrel lifted the folded gown gently and carried it to the chest in the bedroom, while A'lisha brought the wheeled chair around.  She and Saera got the old  woman under the elbows and lifted her, helping her into the padded seat.  Giggling over growling stomachs, arguing over who's turn it was to push the chair, they bumped out the door.

                             *     *     *                     *     *     *                    *      *      * 
The near-legendary Head Cook, Sister Rhe'am, had surpassed even herself.  Saera and company arrived to find yet another course being served and more than enough of the previous courses still available for them to have a taste of everything.

The hall was packed and seating was at a premium.  Each girl searched an area for a place at the tables, while their charge waited impatiently in her chair by the door.  A'lisha returned with news that several people were leaving at the far end just as the other two had come back to admit defeat. 

They traversed the long table along the right-hand wall, settling onto the bench with their back the wall, the Priestess presiding at the end.  She looked about with interest, a wistful look on her face, caught up in thoughts of her own Choosing-day and it's feast.  Nearly fifty years ago, now!  With a sigh, she brought her attention back to the present to catch what Saera, seated next to her, had been saying. 

"...start with the roast duck with currant sauce, or the honeyed salmon?" her
granddaughter was asking.

"It all sounds so good!  Maybe a bite of both, and look," her head nodded toward another platter making it's way round the room, " is that a haunch of swine with mustard glaze?"

All three girls stood to wave at the server bearing the dish in question.  The acolyte lowered the tray from her shoulder as she approached, showing that it was.  Saera forked a tender bit of the pre-sliced meat onto her grandmother's plate as well as her own.  A second server came up behind the first with a toureen of mustard sauce to spoon over the meat.  The other two girls passed on the swine, though, in favor of a vegetable custard baked in a ring of pumpkin rind.

The servers continued to carry trays, platters, bowls, baskets and anything else that food could be placed upon up and down the tables.   First serving of each dish went to the table at the end of the room, where the senior priestesses were seated with the new High Priestess.  Her flaxen head was inclined toward Sister Kiera on her right.  Sister Melan picked sullenly at her food, until Mother Elusine turned a friendly smile on her with an air of deference that obviously flattered her advisor. 

A young acolyte came around with a plate of cheeses, kneeling by the former High Priestess to offer her a better view for selection. 

"This one is my favorite, Mother Ama." the girl said, pointing to a creamy white cheese roll encrusted with herbs.

"Thank you dear, that does look lovely." Reaching for the knife to cut a bit of it, the priestess added, "But, it's not Mother Ama anymore, simply Sister Ama."  she corrected.

Shaking a head covered with glossy brown curls, the wide hazel eyes looked up earnestly,  "You'll always be Mother Ama to all of us, no matter if you're not High Priestess anymore."  After standing to offer cheese to the younger priestesses, she then curtsied with a smile and started on her rounds of the hall again.

"She's right, you know." Sherrel pointed out, "We'll never be able to think of you any other way."

"Yes, well...but it's not right.  I wouldn't want to take anything away from Mother Elusine."

Saera shook her head, "You won't, grandmother," she reached to pluck a small cluster of grapes from the fruit bowl laid before them on the table, "but you'll always be Mother Ama, like it or no."

Mother Ama smiled at them over a spoonful of candied pear, "Well, of course I will be,
dear.  The High Priestess is always called Mother."

Sherrel exchanged looks with her companions.  Saera's blue eyes held dismay, A'lisha's brown ones shifted toward the end of the table in concern. "Perhaps we'd better finish up here and go for a  nap, Mother Ama." she spoke gently, setting aside her cup and starting to rise.

"No, Lisha..." Saera waved her friend to sit, "...finish your meal.  I'll take grandmother back, I'm full and could use a rest as well."

"We'll be along shortly, Saera." Sherrel nodded "We've all had a long day and could benefit from a rest."

Saera took a roll from her grandmother's unresisting hand and wheeled her towards the back door of the hall, slipping out with as little notice as possible.  Sherrel and A'lisha watched them leave, then continued their meal in mutual silence. 

                           *     *     *                     *     *     *                    *      *      * 
Saera's room had no window, so she woke to a cool dimness that gave her no indication of how long she had slept.  She heard soft voices coming from the sitting room, so knew the others had returned.  Rising, she ran her fingers through her loose waves. Weaving the heavy strands into the braid all priestesses wore, she fastened the end with a leather thong and went to greet her friends.

"...thought the apple and currant tart was wonderful." A'lisha was saying.

Sherrel shook her head, "The red-berries in heavy cream were the best, though." Looking up, she saw Saera crossing the hallway to her grandmothers room and called
softly, "Saera! We just checked on her, she's still sleeping."

Saera changed her course and came in to join her friends.  She sat on the loveseat next to A'lisha, blinking in the brighter light of the sitting room.

Both girls began telling her about the remaining courses and desserts she had missed, but assured her there would be some of it left at supper.  Cook had made enough food to last the entire Temple area for 3 days, they swore.

Laughing quietly, they chatted about the days events, simply relaxing and enjoying each other's company.  Something they had not been able to do much of late.  The sun drifted into late afternoon as they talked, one of them rising now and again to check the bedroom.  Mother Ama slept on, the day had taken it's toll on her.

Glancing up, Saera noted the length of the shadows falling through the windows.  Seeing her do so, A'lisha nodded at her. "It's almost time for you to go to the Goddess.  We'll stay here."

"One of us will run over to the hall and bring back some supper for Mother Ama and ourselves."  Sherrel added,  "Why don't you stop and have some yourself on the way?  It may be too late when you come back."

Saera reluctantly agreed, heading out the door after one last look at their sleeping patient.  She crossed the yard in front of the apartment, turning right into a space between the trees that formed an archway above the path leading towards the dining hall.  Entering the hall itself, she found supper in progress...or perhaps the feast still ongoing.  There weren't many present, most still being full from earlier.  Finding a seat this time was a matter of walking through the door and sitting on the nearest bench.  A fresh batch of acolytes served her the remaining delicacies of the day and she ate well.

Full, rested and greatly relieved that the Choosing was over and done with, Saera made her way through the early twilight to the Temple.  She entered, pausing a moment to let her eyes adjust to the soft candelight glow.  A bright light flared, and the newly chosen Mother Elusine stepped from the tree.

She walked down the aisle with her head down, obviously deep in thought.  She looked up, startled, when she realized someone was there by the doors.  Relaxing as she saw who it was, a soft smile drifted across her features.

"Saera!  How fortunate it is to see you.  Can we walk together for a moment?"  A graceful hand gestured the young priestess to her side.

She hesitated, but, not wishing to give offense to the new High Priestess, moved to join her.  Saera knew Maia would be patient if she were a bit late.  After all, what was time to a Goddess?  With a quick cursty and nod of her head, she stepped to her side and walked back out the Temple doors.  The turned towards the spiral path that led around the temple walls, quiet for a moment.

Finally, Mother Elusine spoke, "I've just come from the Lady." Her voice was soft, pitched for Saera's ears alone.  "She told me of the destiny laid before you."

Saera only nodded.  There was really nothing she could say, if she already knew about it.

"How do you feel about this?  Is this what you would wish to do?"

This startled the young woman.  Neither the Goddess nor her own grandmother had asked her this.  Where did her own feelings come into this?  She hesitated before replying. 

"To be honest, Mother, I don't really feel as though I have a choice in the matter."

Elusine nodded.  The newly risen moon glowed on her pale skin, turning her profile into a silver cameo.  Her hair looked as white as Mother Ama's.  "You do have a choice, you can refuse this quest." 

Saera took in a sharp breath.  The idea of refusing had never occurred to her.  She had at times rebelled at the heavy burden laid on her, wanted to simply be any other priestess of the temple.  But only in her own thoughts.  Never had she seriously entertained the idea that she could tell the Goddess, or her grandmother, that she would not do this thing.  Her tears, anger and sense of helplessness had been reserved for her pillow at night.

"And if I refuse?  What happens to Earth, what happens to Ur?" Saera sighed and shook her head, knowing as she spoke the words that it was true.  There really 
was no choice.

The High Priestess stopped, turned to look at her companion.  Her eyes were hidden in shadow, her face still as the cold marble it seemed to have been chiseled from.  Saera shivered.

A warm hand landed lightly on her arm. "I'm glad you feel that way.  I'm sorry it must be laid on you, but I wanted to be sure you knew that the final decision to shoulder this responsibility lay with you."

"It hadn't really occurred to me that it did, but I suppose it does, doesn't it?"  Saera relaxed.  The realization that it really was her choice eased her somewhat.  "Thank you.  It helps to know that."

"Good, I had hoped it would.  This is really too much to expect of
anyone, but it must be done." The regret was clear in her voice. "The fate of two worlds
resting on one  young woman's shoulders..." The hand on Saera's arm gave a soft squeeze, then fell away.

Saera nodded and looked down, there was nothing she could say to that.  She could only hope that she would be worthy of the challenge before her.  She could only hope that she would succeed.

Mother Elusine drew a deep breath, "Well, I won't keep you any longer, Saera. Go to the Goddess,"  she placed a hand on either side of the girl's face and kissed her softly on the brow,  "go with the blessing of The All, Chosen One."

She continued on toward the outer walls, seeming to float above the ground, a ghost in the moonlight.  Saera stood for a moment, watching her drift away.  Wiping tears she hadn't been aware of shedding from her eyes, she turned and went back to the Temple.
 
 

David leaned back, grateful no one had taken the seat next to him.  He was on the aisle, but shifted over to the window once the plane was in the air.  First, he'd had to release the arms of his own seat where he'd had a death grip on them during take-off.

He'd never flown before and hadn't known what to expect.  He'd listened anxiously as the whine of the engines grew louder, the roar increasing by the second.  When the plane started down the runway, he'd had the sensation of riding a huge beast.  Not a bird, this mass of metal was much too heavy to resemble such a delicate creature.  More like some kind of flying dinosaur.  There was an impression of powerful muscles bunching as the plane squatted low to the pavement, then a mighty push as it leapt into the air, the ground falling away below them.  David let out the breath he hadn't known he'd been holding and began to relax, his interest in the new experience overcoming his fear of being thousands of feet above the safety of the earth.

After a while, he grew tired of peering out of the tiny window.  The landscape below -
dotted with trees and houses, checkered with fields and lined with roads - seemed much too unreal to hold his interest for long.  He sipped the soda the attendant had brought him and found himself becoming bored.  He had nothing to read or do during the hours it would take to get to Dallas, where he would have to change planes, then on to Austin.  With a sigh, he decided his only option was to sleep.

It didn't take long for him to doze off, with the faint vibration and low-pitched rumble of the plane to lull him.  His breathing slowed, his face went slack and his eyes began to move back-and-forth behind his lowered lids as he slid into REM sleep.  The dream found him quickly and drew him in.

The forest around him was silent and he felt a wave of uneasiness prickle over his skin.  His fringed breech-clout whispered across his leggings and brushed the tops
of his moccasins as he made his way through the dense underbrush, ducking under overhanging branches as he moved deeper.  Twigs brushed through his hair, pulling strands loose from his topknot.  Why was it so quiet?

He stopped to listen.  All was still.  No bird calls, no movement of small animals beneath the vegetation.  Sweat trickled down his back and he shifted his shoulders beneath the soft buckskin shirt.  Something was wrong, very wrong.

The path was blocked by a holly bush.  He forced his way around it, cursing the ornaments hanging from his clothing as they entangled themselves, finally breaking away one strand of fringe after scratching his hands trying to loosen a turkey spur that had wrapped itself around a branch.  He broke free to find himself in a clearing.

It didn't seem possible, but the clearing was even more still than ithad been in the trees.   Some sixty feet across and roughly circular,  a two-foot growth of
yellowed grass stood limply throughout the clearing, surrounding the biggest tree he had ever seen.  It was at least ten feet across.  The leafless branches reached high above the surrounding forest.  They were twisted and bent as if the tree itself were in agony, the victim of some cruel torture.

So awed was he by the tree, it was several moments before he realized there was someone standing at the foot of it.  Warily, he approached.  It was an old woman.  Not just old, ancient.   She wore nothing but a cured deerskin belted around her waist, her breasts dried-up and hanging like deflated balloons.

This crone could be no threat to him, even though he was not armed.  He relaxed and walked forward with swaggering confidence.

"Siyu, Elisi!" he called.

She didn't look at him, her face was turned upward, gazing through the gnarled branches of the tree.  Her gray hair hung in greasy strands,  yellowed and dull.  He stopped in front of her, impatient.

"Do you hear me, old woman?"

Slowly, she lowered her head.  Her black eyes met his.  He took a step back...they were swimming with stars!  She blinked and they were only dark eyes in a hags face, he must have seen the light reflecting off them, that's all.

Still, he did not move closer.  More respectfully, he raised his hands, palms up.  "Grandmother, I greet you."

"Siyu, little adawehi." her voice was sand blowing against the roof, "I have been waiting for you to find me."

"Not yet adawehi, grandmother," he bowed his head, "but soon."  Who was she?  She seemed to know him, but he was sure he'd never seen her before.  And why had she been waiting for him?

"Soon."  she agreed "Sit, then, not-yet-adawehi." She gestured at the ground before the tree, where the grass did not grow.  When he obediently lowered himself onto his haunches, she followed, her back against the massive trunk of the tree.

She remained silent, watching him as if she were reading his soul.  He was beginning to suspect he was in the presence of a 'being of power', he lowered his eyes in respect.  Better go careful! 

She laughed suddenly, a hoarse bark that startled him.  He looked up at her and saw her shaking her head, coarse hair swinging across her shoulders, the tiny ornaments  braided into them clicked like cicadas.  "Always best to go careful, grandson.  Even a familiar face can hide power."

He shifted uneasily.  She knew what he was thinking!   Well then, "Why have I been led here?" he thought. 

"You were not led, child." Her smile showed broken and decayed teeth, black and rotting.

"Then how did I come to be here?" How did he come to be here... why was he dressed
up as an Indian?  Was this a dream?

"You came because you came." She reached down with both hands and filled them with dirt.  "Where do dreams begin and reality end?  That is the better question."  She threw the dirt into his face. 

Crying out, he raised his arms before him, too late.  He clenched his eyes shut, feeling the grit beneath his lids.

As if from a distance, he heard her say, "Follow the path, I-gv E-do-da."

Path? What path?  How could he follow anything when he couldn't even see?

The barest of whispers came to him in her blowing-sand voice, "The path of your destiny."

                          *     *     *                     *     *     *                    *      *      * 
David clawed his way out of sleep, rubbing fiercely at his burning eyes.  They were full of dirt.  Dirt?  No, must be sleep in his eyes.  They were gritty, the sandman had hit him pretty hard.

He rose unsteadily from his seat, trying to collect the remnants of his scattered consciousness.  Staggering past rows of sleeping passengers, he made his way to the bathroom.

The door closed safely behind him, David ran chemical-scented water into his hands and washed his eyes out. The mirror showed them red and irritated and...what the hell?  He had scratches all over the backs of his hands.  Some fairly deep.  They were beginning to sting and his fingertips, which upon inspection showed multiple small punctures, were throbbing.

"How did I do that?" he asked his reflection.  A memory floated to the surface... a holly bush.  No,  it couldn't be.  That was just a dream.  "Where do dreams begin and reality end?"  A voice whispered in the back of his mind.

"No!"  He shook his head, but the dream was coming back to him in full-force.  David leaned against the sink-counter, sweat popping out all over his face and his ears beginning to buzz.

"Follow the path, I-gv E-do-da...the path of your destiny." What the hell was that
supposed to mean?  And what were those words?  Ee-tlv? A-do-dah?  Thoughts jumbled together in his head, which was beginning to spin.  He turned aside from the mirror and vomited in the metal toilet.

Washing his face and rinsing out his mouth, he told himself it was just a dream.  Had to be.  Couldn't be anything else...could it?   No!  It was just a dream, there had to be some explanation for his hands, his eyes.  Maybe he'd hurt himself on the glass shards in the apartment and just hadn't noticed it until now.  There had been a lot of other shit going on, after all.  Yes, that had to be it. 

And his eyes?  Well, maybe he'd been crying in his sleep.  His father had died, after all.  His father....  Now tears did spring into his eyes, making them burn even worse.  David grabbed impatiently at a tissue from the dispenser in the wall, blotting his tears and blowing his nose.  No time for that, now.  And besides, his dad had been a bona-fide asshole.  Who would cry over someone like that.

An attendant tapped gently at the door, "Sir?  Are you O.K.?"

"Yes, I'm fine."  David called back, maybe a little too loudly.  "I'll be right out."

Washing his face yet again, he took several deep breaths, resolved to put it all out of his mind for now.  Emerging from the tiny bathroom into the narrow hallway, he walked back to his seat and ordered another Sprite from the hovering attendant.  He hoped she didn't notice his swollen eyes and think he'd been in there crying like a child.  Oh well, she would have to think what she would.  Maybe he'd have time to pick
up some eye drops at the airport in Dallas.  And a book, he didn't want to sleep anymore.

                          *     *     *                     *     *     *                    *      *      * 

The plane made it's descent on the Austin airport and the Captains voice was asking them to return their seats to an upright position and fasten their seatbelts.  Only half-listening, David complied, reluctant to pull his attention away from his book.  He'd been lucky enough to find one at the Dallas airport.  A collection of  short-stories by his favorite author, Charles de Lint.

He'd also procured a bottle of eye-drops, which had helped.  Nothing to do about the scratches, though.  Hopefully they would heal up in a day or two. 

Sunk into the urban-fantasy stories, he'd been able to put the dream out of his mind.  Well, mostly.  Wisps of it still played about the edges of his consciousness.  Finally, they made their final descent and he had to tuck the book back into it's plastic bag with they eye-drops.

He watched the ground rise up to meet them, tensing a little as they rushed toward the pavement.  Then the wheels of the landing gear hit, bounced, hit again and bit.  The plane rolled down the runway, gradually slowing as the engines wound down.  The beast at rest once more,  grumbling and purring to itself as the passengers rose to disembark.

Merging with the herd, David moved down the tunnel and out into the terminal.  How would he know his grandfather?  After all, he hadn't seen him since he was four.  "Duh!" he told himself, "Just look for the old Indian."

Scanning the waiting area near the gate, he spotted him just as his grandfather
caught sight of David.  He really wasn't that hard to find, after all.  As he'd thought, Indian, of course.  Although he really didn't look that old.  Maybe in his fifties.  Some gray in the long hair braided down his back, but not that much.  Not ancient, like the woman in his dream. 

He shied away from thoughts of the old woman and stepped forward shyly to meet his grandfather.The man's face broke into a smile and his arms came out to hug David, pulling him into a fierce embrace.  "Siyu, Sogainisi!" That word, Siyu ...he remembered
it from his dream.  It must mean hello or something like that.

"Uh, hi."  David replied against the checked cotton of his shoulder.  He wasn't much shorter than his grandfather, maybe three or four inches. 

Releasing him, Dave Rainwater held him out at arms-length and looked him over. "Well, you've grown a bit since I last saw you." and he winked.

David laughed, relaxing a little. "I know, umm, grandfather."  He stepped back a little awkwardly, clutching his plastic bag and wondering what to say.

His grandfather started walking away from the gate and David followed him down
a short concourse dotted with potted plants and tables.  Small restaurants lined the wall on one side.  It looked like the food court in a shopping mall.  Certainly nothing like the
airports in Atlanta or Dallas.  People strolled in an almost leisurely fashion, instead of
the manic movement to reach distant gates at the larger airports. 

They rode an escalator down to the lower level where the baggage carousels were.  David only had the one battered suitcase and his duffel bag.  Not much, considering it was all he owned in the world.

"That it?" his grandfather asked, raising his eyebrows.

"Yeah." David nodded, "Not much, huh?" He shouldered his duffel bag and his grandfather only shook his head.  He picked up the suitcase, leading him out glass doors and across the drop-off area to the parking garage.

They went down a row of parked cars, stopping halfway down.  His suitcase was thrown into the back of a jeep that was just as battered.  Paint oxidized and worn through in places, vinyl seats cracking and splitting, top open.  Probably too tattered to use, David thought.  He tossed his duffel bag on top of the suitcase and climbed in the passengers seat, pulling the seatbelt across his shoulders and forcing it into the latch.  He wondered if he'd ever get it unbuckled again.

His grandfather fastened his own seatbelt, then turned to him. "David, I'm sorry you lost your father." 

David blinked against the prickling in his eyes, "Thanks."

"The thing is... your grandmother and I may not talk about it much." he hesitated, then went on,  "We lost Donnie years ago."

"He told me you were dead!" David blurted out.

His grandfather nodded, "That doesn't surprise me."  He turned and put his hands on the steering wheel, "Anyway, I know you may need to talk about it.  If you do, I'll listen." 

"Okay...thanks."  Not knowing what else to say, David fell silent again.

The jeep roared into life, no matter what it looked like, it obviously ran well.  Neither of them tried to speak over the noise of the engine or the rush of the air as they left the airport and made their way north through Austin.
 
 

"Good morning, Sogainisi!"  David's grandmother half-turned from the stove to call a greeting at him over her shoulder as he entered the kitchen.  Bright sunlight bathed her face from the window over the sink, making the silver strands woven through her
thick black hair gleam.  It was pulled back in it's usual knot at the nape of her neck,
secured by a wooden stick shoved through holes in a leather oval.  This one had a hummingbird painted on it.  David thought that was apt, his grandmother reminded him of a hummingbird.

"Good morning, grandmoth..." David searched his memory for the Cherokee word, he was learning but still struggling, "...uh, Elisi."  She smiled at him and turned back to remove the fried eggs from the skillet on the stove before her.

He sat at the heavy oak table, dragging the chair, worn but sturdy, closer to the edge.  The other end of the table, where his grandfather always sat, was empty.  He was already hard at work, as usual.  David felt a twinge of guilt for having slept so late this morning, but then shrugged it off.  If his grandfather had needed his help he would have woke him, although there were morning chores that he could have helped with.  He went to work quickly on the plate of eggs and toast his grandmother laid before him.  Even if he didn't really need him, David always learned something new from his grandfather and enjoyed spending time with him.

After two months of living with his grandparents, David had settled in as if he'd lived there all his life.  They were surprisingly easy to get along with.  The difference between life on their small ranch in the Texas hill country and his old one in Atlanta was like night and day.  He worked hard helping them on the ranch, but it brought a pride and satisfaction he'd never known working at Perry's grocery store.

Sometimes he truly missed his dad, although he didn't miss the drinking and yelling.  Still, he was happy here.  Happier than he'd ever been.  He was especially happy today.  His grandfather had promised to take him into the small city of Cedar Park to get an aquarium!

Contemplating what kind of fish he might fill it with, he cleaned his plate with a slice of
toast and rose to carry it to the sink.  Running hot water and dribbling soap into a sponge, he washed it, along with his fork and juice glass.

"Where's grandfather this morning?" he asked his grandmother as she took the soapy sponge from him to clean the counters and stove with.

"He's finally repairing my chicken coop." she rinsed the sponge and dried her hands, nodding out the kitchen window. 

David looked out and saw his grandfather nailing wire on a new door to replace  the broken one on the front of the chicken coop.  "I'll go see if he needs help." He kissed his diminutive grandmother on the top of her head and headed for the door to the right of the sink cabinet.

The screen door fell shut behind him and his grandfather looked up.  "David!  Finally decided to get out of bed?"  he winked at him, to let him know he was only teasing.  Nevertheless, David ducked his head in apology.  His grandfather pulled the old door loose and slid the new one into the frame, with the loss of only one sly old hen.  David held the wire and framework door while his grandfather screwed the hinges into place, the whine of the drill sharp in the morning air. 

He handed David the drill and a handful of screws, scratching marks with one screw where the latch was to go on the door and the frame. He then held the respective parts in place while David screwed them tight to the wood.

Nola Rainwater chased down the stray chicken while they worked, depositing it in the
coop when the latch was in place.  "There!" she dusted feathers from her blue cotton dress and smiled at her husband.  "Thank you Dave, and David, too.  Now maybe the foolish birds will stay put!"

David looked to his grandfather, "What next?"

"Don't really have anything pressing today, what do you say we go in to town and check out the pet store?"

"All right!"  David turned back toward the house, "Just let me grab my wallet."

The screen door banged shut behind him as he dashed through the kitchen and he winced, throwing a loud "Sorry!" over his shoulder.  He grabbed his wallet from his nightstand and checked to make sure all his money was in it, digging in his pocket to
estimate what he might have in change.  His grandparents had been paying him for helping on the ranch and he had almost $300.00 saved.  Less what he'd spent on a couple of new books, one of which he'd had his nose buried in until late last night.  Which is why he'd slept late.

Two hundred and seventy-nine dollars, plus a couple bucks in change.  Should buy him a decent aquarium and what he needed to get it set up.  He'd have to wait a couple
weeks before he could start buying fish for it, if he bought small ones and didn't get the
really exotic ones like he'd had before.  Or he could wait a little longer, if he could wait, and get nicer ones when he had more saved up.  With school starting in a week though, he wouldn't be able to work as much and so it would take longer to earn that much.

He went back out the kitchen door, easing the screen shut this time, to find his grandfather waiting for him in the jeep.  He waved to his grandmother where she was pulling clean sheets down from the clothesline, she had a dryer but said she liked the way the sheets smelled when dried outdoors.  She waved back and he jumped over the door into the jeep, pulling the seat belt across his shoulder as his grandfather backed out of the parking space in front of the garage, shifted, and took off up the driveway
in one smooth motion.

David and his grandfather, Edudi, David reminded himself, didn't speak much once they got out on the four-lane road into town.  Between the noise of the jeep engine and the rush of hot summer air, it was almost impossible to be heard.  So, he sat back and watched the hills and streams rush by. 

There were still a few wildflowers blooming, the yellow varieties.  Black-eyed Susan and Texas sunflowers.  Not as pretty as the wildflowers of spring and early summer, but bright and cheerful.  Grandmothers' bees loved them.  David had finally figured out the
difference between wildflowers, which were prized in central Texas, and weeds.  Wildflowers had pretty blooms and didn't make burrs or stickers.  He still teased his grandmother about them being weeds, though. 

The jeep swept around the last curve and the road opened into a straight stretch, revealing the outskirts of Cedar Park.  They slowed down as traffic thickened.  It was finally quiet enough to talk.

"How long have you lived here, grandfather?" 

His grandfather kept his attention on the traffic and shifted down, answering without looking, "A little over ten years."

David considered this.  His fifteenth birthday was next week, on the twentieth, the day before school started.  "So that's why I don't remember anything about you after I was four or so, you moved here."

Mouth tightening, maybe in concentration as he turned the corner at the city's main intersection, his grandfather simply answered, "Yes."

Feeling this was perhaps a delicate subject, David dropped it and fell silent again.  It was only a few blocks to the pet store, so he turned his mind back to what he would need for his aquarium.  Gravel, a filter, pump, water treatment.

They pulled across traffic and into the parking lot of the small shopping center where the pet store was the star attraction.  David already had his seatbelt loose before they were stopped in front of the store and was hopping out of the jeep as soon as it quit rolling. 

There was a turnstile inside the door, which David thought strange but rushed through.  The aquariums were on the left side, around the counter.  He looked them over, running his hands along the oak cabinet of a 30 gallon.  Out of his price range, but beautiful.  He turned to the 20 gallons on less impressive stands. They all came with accessories, so that would help.  Still, it would take almost all he had. 

His grandfather was looking over the 30 gallon. "I hadn't realized these things could be so nice, nice wood on this one."

"Yeah, it's a beauty all right, but more than I can afford." David looked at it wistfully.

A salesman approached them, offering assistance.  David asked a few questions about the less expensive units, but his gaze returned again and again to that oak cabinet.

Watching him, his grandfather nodded to the back, where the fish were displayed.  "Why don't you show me what kind of fish you'll be putting in it, while you think about which one you want."

David eagerly went through the doorway into the darkened room.  Tanks glowed in stacks and rows through cut-outs in the walls, all the way around the room, with a few larger tanks standing in the center.   He asked the salesman where the Orientals were and was pointed to the right.

Making his way along the rows, David came to the tanks of small Ryukin and Orandas "I'll probably get a few of these, I can't really afford the larger ones."  Shifting past a darkened doorway that led behind the tanks, he came to some larger tanks in the corner.  "Grandfather, look!"

His grandfather tore his eyes from the darting fish in the smaller tanks to join his grandson.  Looking where David was pointing, he was surprised.  It was the same kind as the smaller ones, but the size of his fist! "I didn't know they got so big!" he whistled softly.

"It's a chocolate and gold Oranda... isn't he beautiful?"  David's hand splayed gently on the front of the tank, barely touching the cool glass.  He squatted down to bring himself nose-to-nose with it, breathing softly through his mouth so he didn't steam the glass.  The fish floated placidly for a moment, then turned and gracefully propelled himself to the front of the tank, looking back at David.

His grandfather watched from David's side, noting the look on his face.  He saw a description of the fish and the price written on one corner of the tank.  Thirty-five dollars.  He knew that if David bought a tank big enough to house more than just this one fish, he would never be able to afford the fish itself.  It was beautiful, and his grandson was clearly in love.

"Well, David, I was thinking..." David glanced up at his grandfather, then his gaze was drawn back to the fish.  "What if I were to buy your aquarium as your birthday present, then you could use your money to buy your friend there."  He nodded at the fish.  It seemed to be just as fascinated with David as he was with it.  "And maybe a couple others to keep him company."

David stood slowly, a smile spreading across his face, "Grandfather!  Would you really?"

His grandfather nodded, pleased to see the look of joy in David's face.  "Lets go tell them to mark this fella sold, and pick out your tank, Okay?" 

The salesman was hovering in the doorway, he smiled broadly when David told him he wanted to buy the large Oranda, to be picked up in a few days.  He went immediately and marked "Sold" across the glass with a red grease pencil as David looked on, beaming.

When David came back up to the front, he found his grandfather at the counter with another man.  The owner of the store.  He was a wiry man about his grandfathers age, with silvering hair and a deep tan.  "It comes with three large bags of gravel, but I'd probably put in at least five." the man was saying.

His grandfather nodded at David, "You'd better pick you out a color for that gravel.
We'll go ahead and get five of them."

"Oh no, grandfather, the twenty gallon won't take that much!"  He looked suspiciously at the owner, sure the man was trying to milk more money from them.

"I'm sure it wouldn't," the man smiled and winked, "but the thirty gallon will."

David's mouth fell open, he looked from the owner to his grandfather, who nodded.  Shaking his own head, he flung his arms around his grandfather. "Thank you, Edudi!"

Patting his grandson awkwardly on the back, he turned him toward the accessories. "Better go pick out your gravel, Sogainisi, while we load this monster into the jeep."
 
 

His horse followed closely behind the big roan mare, both animals picking their way carefully over the loose rock.  The late afternoon sun winked through the trees, taking it's time sliding down the back of the sky.  David's shirt clung damply between his shoulderblades and a trickle of sweat followed a well-worn path through his hair and down the back of his neck.

Seemingly unconcerned with the muggy heat, his grandfather sat relaxed in his
saddle.  David had no idea where he was taking him, but was excited at the idea of spending the night out in the hills.  He'd begged his dad to go camping once, after he'd gone on a weekend trip with his boy-scout troop.  Two nights spent around a fire, under the stars, had intoxicated him. His father had violently refused and even forced him to quit the scouts.  But that one experience had left David longing for something he could not name.

A cardinal darted out of the trees to their right and shot over their heads, like an arrow loosed from a bow.  David's grandfather turned his horse's nose in the direction the crimson projectile had taken, as if the bird were guiding them somewhere.  They went deeper into the trees and leftthe rocky hillside behind, descending into a valley.  A quiet burbling told David they were near a seasonal creek, swollen with recent rains.  After a few feet he spotted it, making it's way down hill parallel to them.

It didn't take long to reach the bottom, most of the hills here weren't large.  Just plentiful.
The creek pooled out at into a quiet pond, surrounded by cattails.   Mockingbirds and
Purple Martins plunged out of the trees around it, snatching bugs hovering over the still
water.  A sudden disturbance in the water, and something shot up to snatch a low-flying bird.  It was pulled beneath the surface in an eye-blink, one flap of a gray and white wing and then it was gone.

"Grandfather! Did you see that?"  David was not even sure if he had seen it himself, it had happened so quickly. "What was that?!"

His grandfather paused the horse and David's slowed to a stop as well. "Water moccasin, u'gan'te:na." he nodded.

David backed his horse a couple steps farther from the pond without thinking.  He'd never known a snake could do that!  At the same time, he took careful note of the word his grandfather had used.  He was learning as much as he could of the Cherokee language, as quickly as he could.  It seemed to be important to his grandparents and therefore was important to him, too.

Repeating the name under his breath, he turned his horses' head to follow behind his
grandfather's as they moved off, skirting the pond.

He had just learned to ride since coming to Texas, after his father's death, and was grateful at his horse's tendency to follow the other mare.  He hoped they were near where they would camp for the night.  They'd been riding most of the day, checking fences.  His legs were chafing where his jeans rubbed against the saddle with the constant movement and he wasn't sure if he'd be able to walk once he got down. 

He didn't think they were all that far from the house now, they'd doubled back earlier, but had to admit to himself that he was thoroughly lost at this point.  When his grandfather stopped a little farther along and dismounted, David gave a sigh of
relief and descended stiffly from his own horse.

"The trees are too close here for the horses to pass." his grandfather said, "We'll bed them down here and walk the rest of the way in."

The pond had once again turned into a small creek and the horses were drinking gratefully.  David tottered around on unsteady legs.  Removing his sleeping bag and the bag of cooking gear from his saddle and setting them aside, he worked at the sweat-soaked leather of the girth and undid the buckle, sliding the saddle down the horses side.  Following his grandfather's example, he laid blanket and saddle over a
low-hanging branch.

They dug brushes from their saddlebags and brushed the horses down in a companionable silence.  The trees were filled with the cries and rustlings of birds
hunting resting places for the night and the stream flowed lazily past.  It was peaceful.
David felt his muscles begin to relax.

Brushes replaced in the bags and the horses hobbled and given grain, they shouldered their gear and moved deeper into the trees.  His grandfather assured him it wasn't far and the horses would be comfortable enough with water and summer grass to graze on.  They'd be able to hear their voices and would stay near.

David followed, enjoying the sounds and smells.  They wound their way a short distance into the trees.  A native holly stood between two trees, blocking their path.  They worked their way around it.  As the bush's spiny leaves scratched across the back of David's hand, he had a sudden memory of the dream he'd had on the plane.

He hadn't really thought much about it since it happened, had never spoken of it.
His life had simply been too full, learning the ways of life on a ranch, getting to know his
grandparents.  Now it came back to him full-force, as if he'd just woken from it.  The
strange words he and the old woman had spoke rose fresh in his mind.  He'd have to ask his grandfather what they meant.  A couple of them he'd already found out. 
Siyu, hello; Elis, grandmother.  So he was sure they were Cherokee.

Once around the holly bush, they were in a small clearing.  Not the clearing of his dream.  There was no giant tree, the birds were busy all around them and a light breeze had come up, cooling the air against his skin.

There were two things of interest here, though.  A ring of stones, obviously placed
deliberately, and a circular mound.  The mound was grown over with grass, so had been here for a while.  He saw that there were four lines of stones dividing the inside of the circle, and colored sand had been spread between them, a different color for each wedge; black, red, white and blue. Between the mound and the circle was another, smaller, ring of stones, and a fire pit.

"What is this place, Edudi?"  David sat his gear near the fire pit, next to his grandfather's.  He started toward what was obviously an entrance to the mound, thinking to look inside.

"Not yet, Sogainisi." his grandfather warned.  "Later, you will enter the a'si."

Obeying, David turned from the mound and investigated the circle, walking around the outside.  Obviously, these things had some importance, so he would not enter it uninvited, either.  His curiosity was piqued, though.

His grandfather sent him off into the surrounding trees to gather oak for a fire.  He pulled the front of his T-shirt up to make a pocket, which he filled with twigs and bark for kindling, pinning it close to his body with one elbow, then loaded his arms with all that he could carry of the dried branches scattered over the ground.  He also found where his grandfather had previously cut up a tree limb into small logs.  Unloading his arms and shirt near the fire pit, he went back and gathered up several of these.

His grandfather had gotten a battered tin coffee pot from the bag of cooking gear and taken it back to the stream to fill.  He'd then set about spreading new sand within the wedges of the stone circle, smoothing it carefully with his fingers.  David watched in fascination, wondering what the significance of the circle and the different colors were.  He was sure he would find out soon, though.

His grandfather showed him how to build the fire, starting with the kindling.  One flick of his butane lighter, and they soon had a nice, steady fire. The pot of water was placed on a rock within the ring, plastic handle facing outward, to heat for coffee.  The sun had finally sunk below the hills and it had begun to get dark.  The fire gave off a welcome glow, turning the clearing to warm gold and soft browns.  Night filled the space between the trees.

They roasted hot dogs over the fire on sticks. David's got slightly charred on one side since his dogs insisted on spinning around on the stick, making it impossible to turn them over.  The buns had gotten mashed and sweaty inside their wrapper. They were wonderful.  Each spooned cold pork-and-beans from open cans and they munched fritos from a shared bag.  David thought it was one of the best meals he'd ever eaten.

It was all washed down with hot campfire coffee.  His grandfather had shown him how to brew it in a stained, but clean, sock.  They had no cream, only sugar, but it was strong and good.  They leaned on hip and elbow on either side of the fire.  David decided now was a good time to ask him about the words in his dream.

"Edudi, can I ask you something?"

His grandfather smiled, "You can always ask me anything,  Sogainisi." 

David searched his memory for the words of his dream, they weren't far away.  "I heard some words...I think they're Cherokee."  He recited the words to him, trying not to stumble over the pronunciations. "What do they mean?"

His grandfather narrowed his eyes at him, but answered, "Adawehi, this is a name for one who works magic, a wise man."  He hesitated, but went on, "The other,  I-gv E-do-da,  this would be Tree father.  Where did you hear these words?"

Now David hesitated himself, but decided to tell him.  Perhaps he could tell him what it
meant, and why it had felt so real, so important.  He related the dream to him, still fresh
and clear in his mind.

"When we had to come through the holly bush into this clearing, it all came back like it had just happened.  I had almost forgotten about it 'till then."  He looked up to find the dark eyes fixed steadily on him, light glinting in the black depths, like the old woman's.  "Even a familiar face can hide power". He shivered.

His grandfather sat up, legs crossed before him.  He leaned toward David and spoke quietly, "This is a powerful dream, uhlinigida, very powerful. I cannot tell you what it means, for I do not know."  He thought for a moment,  "I do not know who this old woman was, for I have no stories of her, but I am sure it was she who drew you there.  Perhaps she is a witch, Sgili, I don't know."  He grew quiet, then rose and gathered wood in his arms and entered the mound.  "Wait here." he told David.

David waited, pondering what his grandfather had said. Little adawehi, she had called him.  But he was not a wise man, knew no magic. Tree father.  What the hell did that mean?  Maybe it was only a dream, maybe he'd heard his father say the words.  Not likely, he snorted.  His father had only used Cherokee when he was drunk or angry, usually both, and then only to cuss.  Even so, he'd had no idea what any of the words meant.  He was sure he couldn't have learned them that way.  Where, then?  He shook his head. Like his grandfather, he didn't know.

Smoke began to curl from the top of the mound, evidently it had a hole in the top.  His
grandfather returned, poured another cup of coffee and sat down.  "The only thing I do know about this dream," he continued as if he had never left, "is that it was no ordinary dream.  Not something created by your mind out of bits and pieces floating through your head."

David had felt that way, too, but had hoped he was wrong. 

"She told you to follow the path of your destiny...and she called you adawehi." His eyes met David's and held them. "This, I think, is the destiny she meant.  To learn, to become an adawehi..." he paused,  "like me."

"You?!  What do you mean, grandfather?"  David was startled, he sat his coffee down carefully.  His hands had begun to shake, his whole body was shaking.  The night was warm, but he was covered in gooseflesh.  "Even a familiar face can hide power".

"I mean," his grandfather repliedpatiently, "that I am an adawehi, a wise man.  A conjure man."  He rose and gestured for David to do the same.  "Come, Sogainisi, little
adawehi."  He smiled.

He had David remove  his clothes, all but his underwear, and did the same.  He wasn't sure if it was fear or something else that made him obey without question.  David stood self-conciously, trying not to look directly at his grandfather in his white briefs.  His grandfather picked up the bucket of water he had brought from the stream earlier when he filled the coffee pot and led him into the mound.

A flap of hide hung just inside the entrance.  Not deer.  David wasn't sure what it was, but the fur was thick and heavy.  He thought maybe bear, but where would a bear hide come from in Texas?  His grandfather pushed it aside, ducking under the low
ceiling of the short tunnel, and David followed.  The floor descended, the mound was built over a pit dug about three feet into the rocky soil.  There was no way to get any kind of heavy equipment into the clearing, it must have been dug by hand. 

There was plenty of room to stand once out of the tunnel.  The space inside was dark and smoky.  A low bench had been dug into the walls around the circle, which was about 10 feet from side-to-side.   Not large, but more than enough room for the two
of them.  There was a fire pit in the center.  Inside the pit was a circle of  flat stones,
surrounding the fire.   It was burning steadily.  The logs atop it were set out in an X and
beginning to glow redly. 

His grandfather sat the bucket next to the pit and picked up a hollow gourd laying nearby.  He dipped up some of the water and poured it in a light but steady stream on the fire, dousing the flames and leaving it to smolder, raising a hissing cloud of steam.  He poured more water on the flat stones surrounding it.  Gesturing for David to sit in front of the fire, he sat beside him.

"This is the a'si, the sweat lodge." his grandfather spoke quietly.  He leaned forward and dipped more water onto the rocks, the steam grew thicker.  A small pouch sat on the bench on his other side.  He opened this and scooped out a handful of powder.  Sprinkling it over the coals, he sat back and set the pouch aside once more.  A pungent odor rose into the air with the steam.  Tobacco and something resinous.

David looked around, but between the smoke and the clouds of steam, it was becoming increasingly hard to see anything in the dimness.  Instead, he turned and focused on this sudden stranger beside him.

"The a'si  is a sacred place.  Here all the poisons of the world outside sweat out through your pores and the poisons clouding your mind drift out with the sacred smoke."  Another handful of powder went into the fire.  "Here you are purified and made ready for your journey."

David finally found his voice and asked, "Journey?  Are was going somewhere grandfather?"

He received a smile at his question, but the face before him still had an intensity that made him extremely uncomfortable.

"The journey you go on is not a physical one, not yet, at least." More water on the rocks, it was becoming increasingly hard to breathe.  He was, indeed, beginning to sweat.  "It is a journey of the spirit, the adanvdo, I speak of.

Hesitating, his grandfather turned his face toward the fire pit.  "This is where I must ask you if you choose to begin this quest.  To learn the old ways, to learn the ways of an adawehi."

David hesitated himself.  What did this mean, what kind of quest would he be undertaking?  To learn the old ways, yes, he wanted to do that.  But to become an adawehi, a wise man? 

"Before I can make that choice, Edudi, I must know what I am choosing.  What does it entail, to become an adawehi?"

Looking back at him now, his grandfathers eyes locked on David's in a hard stare, as if
trying to communicate the importance of this decision without words.  "It entails hardship and joy, power...and sacrifice."  His voice dropped to a near-whisper at this  last and his eyes dropped as well.  Before they did, though, David saw a depth of sadness well up that shook him. "All power has a price."

Quietly, David asked, "What was theprice you paid, Edudi?" He thought maybe he knew.

"My only son."

He told him about his father.  He spoke steadily and without emotion, but David could tell the hurt still ran deep.  He thought perhaps this was the first time he'd ever spoken of it.

He had waited, many years, hoping his son would be called to follow him.  As David himself had been called.  But Donnie Rainwater never spoke to him in a way that made him think this had ever come to him.  He was never really interested in learning the language of his people, only picking up a few choice words from some of his
friends. 

Donnie and his wife and small son had lived with his parents on their small farm in Georgia, he told David.  David wanted to ask about his mother, whom he barely remembered, but did not interrupt.  In his early twenties, Donnie was a hard worker, helping on the farm.  But he was already showing a weakness for alcohol.

Fearing for his son, his father had made the decision to take him to his sweat lodge there on the farm.  Wanting to pass on what he knew, he presented the choice to
his son.  Donnie laughed at him.  When his father became angry at his lack of respect for the old ways, a fight had exploded between them.  It escalated, ending with Donnie taking his wife and child into Atlanta and swearing that he would not have his son raised to believe that old crap

Dave Rainwater was heartbroken, hurt, and angry.  In spite of Nola's pleas, the two could not be reconciled.  Donnie refused to see them, refused to let them see their grandchild.  Dave and Nola sold their farm and moved.  He wanted to punish his son for his disrespect and hateful words.  He ended up punishing himself, most of all.

"I was pigheaded.  I was wrong.  Donnie had not been called to make the choice, I tried to force it on him.  When he refused it, I rejected him." He hung his head, "Now, you have been called Sogainisi, child of my son.  So I offer you the choice."

He looked up.  David could not read his expression, but thought he looked very tired.  "But I want you to know, David, that it is a choice.  If you should choose to reject it, you will not be rejected.  I will not make the same mistake that cost me your father, not with you."

"I understand, Edudi." And he did.  Understood what his grandfather had tried to do and why, and how it had all turned out so wrong.  He also began to have some idea of how important being an "adawehi"  was to his grandfather.  What an important decision it was for him, as well.  It was not something to be undertaken lightly.  It was a commitment on the deepest level.

His grandfather waited patiently for his answer, giving David time to think.  He leaned forward and dipped a gourdfull of water, replenishing the steam that had begun to dissipate while he talked.  Another log and  more powder went onto the fire.  He said back and breathed deeply, eyes closed.

David pondered the choice laid before him.  It didn't take long to realize that he truly had no choice.  He had been called, there was no doubt in his mind now of that.  By what or who, no one could say.  For what purpose, he didn't know.  He had told the old woman in his dream, "Not yet adawehi, but soon."  The choice had already been made.

"Teach me, grandfather." David spoke quietly but firmly. "Give me your knowledge,
Edudi."
 
 

Sherrel wasn't nervous, she was scared silly.  Shortly after Mother Ama had first fallen ill, she had reached womanhood.  But there had been no one yet to lead her Initiation ceremony. She had been moved from the girl's communal housing into a shared apartment with two other women and given unofficial priestess status, but continued to wear the robes of an acolyte.  With a new High Priestess in office, she was now to undergo Initiation. 

The night before, she had slept in the acolyte's dormitory, along with another girl who had also started her moon-blood about the same time as Sherrel,  Mairi.  She was a dainty little blonde with pale green eyes and skin like new milk.  Sherrel felt like a drab sparrow compared to her. Still, Mairi was in awe of Sherrel and her intimate association with the former High Priestess, Mother Ama, and her granddaughter.

It was not yet light and Sherrel stared out the window, not sure if she wanted the sun to hurry and rise or delay it's appearance indefinitely.  She just wanted it to be over with.  Still, Saera and A'lisha had been happy and excited about it when they'd come to visit the night before, so maybe it wouldn't be that bad.  Hopefully.

The window faced the courtyard behind the kitchens and there was already noise in the yard below.  Young priestesses and senior acolytes who were serving apprenticeships, or simply serving the month-long turn all acolytes must take twice a year, shuffled sleepily towards the big hall and it's adjoining buildings. 

She knew there would be a ritual cleansing, to begin with.  She had helped to carry water for that, as most acolytes did at one time or another.  Then there would be the ceremony in the big yard before the dormitories.  She "really" didn't look forward to that.  Standing naked before every woman and girl who could be spared from duties.  And then the walk...still naked.  As she was now.  Their blue gowns had been taken from them the night before.  But at least she'd had her sheet to wrap up in since then.

It was not modesty that made her reluctant, that was something only village women worried about, living amongst so many men.  Rather, it was a natural shyness. To stand there, unclad, while all around her were robed.  To stand out like that.  To be the center of attention before the masses of the temple.  She was almost sick with dread.

"Ohhnnhh" a sleepy groan came from Mairi, who's half-slitted eyes peered through a screen of tangled blonde curls.  She had thrown her covers off and was laying now on
her stomach, head pillowed on her arms.  Sherrel's eyes ran from the golden head, down the slender back to the rounded globes of her buttocks.  Mairi lifted her head and blinked at her with a soft smile forming at the corners of her mouth.  Sherrel blushed and looked away.

She'd only wanted comfort last night, nothing more, she was not sure how or when it had progressed beyond that.  Her mind shied from the memory of tangled limbs and sweet, soft skin.  Such liaisons were common, of course, and quite natural.  Sexual energy ran high among the girls her age.  Some relationships between priestesses went on to be life-long commitments.  Her discomfort stemmed from a sense of betrayal, and injustice.  It had not been fair to Mairi, when it was rosier flesh and fire-touched hair she truly wanted.  She hoped the girl would not think it meant more than it had. 

Her thoughts shifted as she saw a group of acolytes carrying buckets of heated
water from the kitchens.  It was not cold, being still the month of High-Sun, but they
steamed in the morning air.  The girls in their sky-blue robes were surrounded by caressing wraiths, laughing and sloshing water across the yard.

"They're coming." she half-turned toward Mairi, one eye still watching out the window for white robes.

Mairi rolled over and stretched, pushing hair from her face.  She sat up, almost bouncing in excitement. "I can't believe our Initiation day is "finally"  here, can
you?"

Sherrel just shook her head.  Her throat was dry and she was beginning to tremble.  She pulled her sheet tighter, as if to shield herself from what was to come.  There
"was"  one thing about it all that she was looking forward to, though. Meeting the Goddess.  What would she be like? she wondered.  Saera had told her a little of
what the Lady looked like, fiery hair, fair skin.  Rather like Saera, herself, Sherrel thought.

She turned her attention back to Mairi, who was still babbling in enthusiasm. "...the first priestesses Initiated by the new High Priestess.  Isn't that something?" she paused expectantly, obviously waiting for some response.

"Yes, something." Sherrel replied automatically.  They were coming!  A group of priestesses marched across the courtyard, Mother Elusine in the lead.  They were chattering among themselves, clearly excited.  Everyone was excited but her.  She just hoped she wouldn't faint from nerves.

They both turned towards the door as they heard sounds on the stair.  It opened to admit Mother Elusine and twelve priestesses, Saera and A'lisha among them.  They
smiled broadly and winked at Sherrel.  They were followed by girls carrying two large copper tubs - it was a good thing they were in a large room.  These were set ceremoniously on the floor.  After they'd cleared the stair the acolytes with the water buckets came.  The first buckets had cooled considerably, but there were more behind them fresh from the fires in the hall.  The arms and faces of the girls carrying these were rosy and sweating. 

Most of the buckets were emptied into the tubs, some of the hotter ones left standing beside them for rinsing.  The last of the water-carriers clattered out, wet and laughing.  With a resigned sigh, Sherrel dropped her sheet and stepped forward.

The ritual bathing, ceremony in the courtyard and walk had not been quite as bad as she had feared.  Saera and A'lisha had stayed close and that made it easier to bear.  Mairi had gone first into the tree.  She wasn't in there long, coming out with large eyes full of wonder and a curiously serious look on her usually mobile features.  Then it was Sherrel's turn.

Entering the tree was confusing and frightening, but again, Saera and A'lisha had been there.  She stumbled into their arms, gasping and shivering as they wrapped her in warm blankets.  Then they had all left.  She was alone in a way that seldom happened in a large compound full of women.  It was like being utterly cut-off from the world.  She tried to still her mind and relax, but she jumped when her name was spoken.

"Sherrel."

It was a soft voice, full of love, but nevertheless commanding in it's tone.  She slowly turned, her head bowed.  Afraid to even raise her eyes, she slowly sank to her knees on the packed dirt of the floor. 

She could not find her voice, but only knelt there, trembling.  A delicate hand rested on top of her head, smoothed the hair, then gently lifted her chin.

"Look at me, my daughter." 

Her eyes slowly took in dainty feet, cloth of gossamer clinging to legs and petite torso, narrow hips.  The breasts were small and high, graceful arms a light nut brown.  Sherrel took in the long, graceful neck and narrow, heart-shaped face.  Soft brown hair framed it and fell across the narrow shoulders.

And her eyes...large, luminous....the subtle gray of the sky before dawn.  Fringed with long, dark lashes.  The nose long and straight, the mouth soft but clearly defined, barely darker than the smooth tan of her skin.  To be in the presence of such ethereal beauty brought tears to Sherrel's eyes. 

But she was confused, too.  This was no flame-haired, pearl-skinned Goddess.  This was a creature of earth and air.  No fire here, only a serene, yet compelling presence.

A flash of teeth like tiny pearls, a soft laugh. 

"I am a mirror, child.  I have no true physical form.  I merely reflect your own beauty, as it will be at the full ripeness of your maturity." Both hands reached toward her, palms up, "Stand and greet me, Sherrel."

As if in a dream, Sherrel took the hands - so warm, so soft! - and rose to her feet.  She found herself on a level with those gray eyes, were they really like her own?  She seldom looked into mirrors, being shy of scrutiny, even from herself. 

Her voice came in a bare whisper, "I greet you, Lady." She bowed her head once more, in respect, but raised it again to gaze into those eyes in fascination and awe.

A flash of  pearls again, dimples danced in the corners of the mouth, on the chin.  Releasing Sherrel's hands, she placed her hands on her shoulders and turned her towards one wall.

"Come, I have much to show you..."

Sherrel sat at thehigh table with Mother Elusine on her right, in the center, and Saera to her left.  Mairi was seated on the other side of the High Priestess, more subdued than usual, but still taking everything in with her sparkling green eyes as if she would devour the room.  She was doing a good job of devouring food from every platter that came her way, as well.  Sherrel ate, but was barely aware of the delicacies being served to her, so deep in thought was she.

She had a destiny, too!  She was beginning to understand how Saera felt.  Being set-apart from others, unable to confide her secret. Mother Ama had told Sherrel about it, but she never discussed it with Saera.  She wasn't even sure that Saera was aware that she knew.  She would like to tell her friend what the Goddess had said  to her, but she had been told not to speak of what passed between them.  It was exciting, frightening and terribly lonely.  Yes, she understood how Saera felt.

The noise in the hall, following the strenuous events of the day, was beginning to give her a headache.  She wondered how long she would have to sit here.  Mother Elusine would have to give her leave to go and leaving early would only draw unwanted attention to herself.  She tried instead to focus on what Saera was telling her, something about how she should wear her braids, that a single one down the back would not suit her.  She didn't really care, but made an attempt to at least seem interested. 

In reality, most of the words simply slipped by her.  Her attention was actually more on just watching Saera. The flash of her green eyes, the way her hands moved to illustrate her words.  Saera's own hair was working it's way out of its single braid, strands curling around her face and floating free to catch the light of torch and candle.  Bits of flame caressing her face.

A'lisha leaned on the table, joining the conversation, promising to braid Sherrel's hair for her in the morning in the style Saera had determined would work best..  Sherrel smiled and nodded, agreeing to submit to whatever they wanted to do.  All she really wanted to do was take the leather barrette from Saera's hair and feel the heavy curls slide through her fingers.   She felt a flush creeping across her cheeks at the thought and gratefully turned her head the other way as Mother Elusine addressed her.

It seemed the feast would never end, but finally the High Priestess stood and made one last speech,  welcoming Sherrel and Mairi officially as first-level  priestesses.  Mairi lingered, enjoying the attention fully.  Sherrel plead weariness and rose to leave. Saera and A'lisha, still chattering with each other and enjoying sampling all the desserts, offered to accompany her to her quarters.  She shook her head and waved them back to their seats, promising to see them in the morning and allow them to braid her hair.

Gratefully she slipped from the hall, taking a path  through a narrow alley towards her
rooms.  Right now she wanted more than anything to be alone.  To think about the events of the day, the revelations of the Goddess.  Halfway to the apartment, she saw Viria and Lenae, the priestesses whom she shared it with, on their way back, as well.  She stopped in the shadows and let them pass.  Instead of following them, she turned back down the alley and took a circuitous route to the Temple.

It was empty, except for one priestess renewing the candles that burned on the altar.  Sherrel slipped onto a bench at the back until she had finished and departed, then traversed the length of the central aisle to the front.  She knelt at the brightly-lit altar, not asking for anything but a little peace.

She pondered her meeting with the Goddess. She remembered her beauty, wondering if she really looked like that.  Or would look like that.  She wondered if Saera saw her that way. Did she think Sherrel was beautiful? 

From the first day they had met, Saera had held her heart.  She wanted so badly to touch her, be held by her.  But her natural shyness prevented her from making the first move and Saera had shown no such inclination.  Sometimes her very nearness was agony.  A casual touch, a friendly hug. 

Sherrel lowered her head to her hands and felt tears slide into her cupped palms, down her wrists.  Would she ever have the courage to tell Saera that she loved her with all her soul?