Make a Scene
Blood of My Blood
Smoke rose from the fire and danced through the hut weaving around each person like a cat. This was the 8th night in which the members chanted and prayed to the spirits but unlike previous nights there was an answer to their call for guidance.
The figure materialized made of smoke and took her time searching out the faces of each person seated knee to knee. They could feel power behind her gaze even though it was made of nothing more than weightless whispers.
“Blood of my Blood. I have heard your prayers among the trees as the wind slides through the leaves. I can hear your cries falling across the rocks as the water washes away the lands you hold so dear. I have come in remembrance of my mother and the blood that flows in your veins and mine.”
“Ancestor,” began the man with the tallest feather and the oldest smile.
“No,” she confessed. “I am not your ancestor, you are mine. I come from a future in which the blood that connects us is thinner than the silk of a spider.” She looked to each member again letting them take in her words. She did not come with wisdom from the past but if they did not heed her warning she would become less than a remnant in the many lines of endless time.
“And what wisdom do you have for us now?”
She could not hide the sadness in her eyes as she realized her place in this world was created for just this moment…all her training had led her here toward failure and she had none to blame but herself. It was with this thought that she began to unravel.
“Peace, My child. This burden is not yours. Return to the life you had before and know we will not hold you to carry this in your heart. Ours is a fate for The Great Spirit to decide and each step we take will echo through time to make a world that treats you better.”
She faded into mist and understood finally, that she was meant for them and they for her. No matter the outcome, she was not the table upon which to lay their offerings or their worries.
20 Feb 2017