They begin to speak

They begin to speak in hushed tones among them. They all speak more of me than to me but they begin to speak. My name is clear each time, they do not realize that I hear them. The embers of the fires blaze bright then shadow as they come one by one. I am not sure when it started. I began to hear them. Voices ... many voices like a white noise constant, buzzing in soft sounds like the wings of bees. Some come close, more clear; some are nothing more than whisper. Constant. Never ending. Turning from them is a deafening silence. It is more comfort to leave them as they are. There, humming in the background until one nears more defined than another.

Those that are directly related to me stand out for now. The importance's felt like a touch on my skin. Mother speaking to Father insuring I was pierced before he left us. Mezoo. Mother when she spoke to Enosh then Grandmother. Mezoo. Grandmother when she spoke with Aunt then Fonce. Mezoo. They were all speaking of me then one would emerge to speak to me. It had become quite disconcerting.

Mezoo. Enosh brought three bowls asking which was mine. I separated them. One placed to the side, another before him before I brought one to my lap and traced my fingertip inside its center. He looked to the one I set aside to ask why I had done this. I felt he should have known. That one was for the Tribe. The second for the clan. There was only one left then to choose from. He gathered the two and left in silence.

I was returning to Grandmother's wagon when Imke had one of his hide and seek moments. I bent beneath the wagon trying to summon him out with a piece of fruit when I heard my name behind me. Mezoo. I have been looking for you.

Why do you seek me?

Fonce had been sent to speak to me of the clans. I had known one would come. I was only my hope that he would be the one. The skies favor me. It was all too new in my head and still spinning to find comfort of it all. I was glad that it was not another parting of the crowds and Aunt standing there to crook her finger. When he asked me what I wanted, I formed the process of decision in the air so that he could see it. I could have lived my life peaceably among the verr as Grandmother had done. I could have kept my hands busy to the tasks of the wagons as Mother does. What I did not want was to be like the dark one. If that was to be the case then I wished no part of any of it. Verr it would be and happy at that.

His reassurance was encouraging. I confirmed what so many already knew, my path seemed set as I gave him my answer. There would be formalities to set all in its place but the lessons would begin now.

He asked how I knew it was time to move, meaning before the drums sounded the message. I gave him only a small portion of an answer. My answer was because the sky had shown me, the colors washed it across the canvas of the plains, the wind whispered it. That the move had spoken to me. For all the splendid sound of that, it was simply ... the air had changed its feel and direction, new sprouts were beginning to defy the ground and the gray of the sky was becoming more blue. The southern plains were calling to me, Mezooo .. where are you?

He grinned.