[Flashback] Searching the Horizon (Colombina)

[Puapasho]

14 Summer, 506 AV

The sun rose slowly over the long horizon of the Burning Lands, much as it did every morning. This particular morning would be unlike any other Puapa had known, however. It was the birth day of his fifteenth year, which meant that soon he would be performing an important rite of passage. He was told to sleep as he would need the energy for his trial, but if he slept at all, it was light. He had been mentally preparing for this for as long as he could remember.

His father, Jalawe, was one of the tribe's foremost trackers and Puapa had always gone with him when it was safe to do so, carrying his spear or dragging kills back to the Redstones. It was Jalawe that woke him, a silent reverence of the day and its meaning shrouding the usual birthday wishes Puapa had received each year prior. " They wait, son." Puapa slid his wrap on and had applied his face paint the night before, knowing the cool desert winds would keep it dry on his face.

Nodding and following, the father and son made their way through the winding trails of the Redstones, approaching a large cave which housed the Wayhali. Dark faces and mantles of ebon feathers were worn by the silent figures lining the opening in the ancient sandstone. He knew them all, but they only looked ahead, their only movement or recognition being to stand aside, opening a curtain of imposed darkness into the cave before Puapa.

A fire, licking the air with flames of blue and violet, stood before him, as did the Wayhali and everyone else of importance. His father took his place among the other men who had filed in behind them. The presence of his blood and the ambience of Brother Crow had his heart racing before he heard a single thing. Puapa knelt, hoping for a moment's peace to compose himself as well as to show reverence and respect to those before him.

[Colombina]

Gentle hands lifting his chin raised Puapa from kneeling. Before him was the Wayhali's daughter, it was her star painted hands that bid him stand. Her long lashed eyes were beholding him curiously and her long hair was plaited with periwinkle blooms at her temples. She smiled, rich and playful as her father addressed him. "Puapasho," the Wayhali began, "We have all come to see you begin your searching. Your people are known yet faceless, both themselves and the host of ancestors who have searched for gods and guardians." The head Abayla was smiling and nodding, a quiet companion to the ritual. Suddenly the fire flared with a deeper blue and a gust of violet colored smoke filled the tent with heady tendrils. The Wayhali daughter was dancing, as if the flames and shadows were her partner. The ritual was beginning in earnest, an organic magic inhabited the Wayhali's words. They were old words, spoken by the all the men who bore his title before. Time and veneration had made them powerful. "We are with you in the raven, in our gods, in our wisdom. When you leave us, you take us. When you walk alone we follow. So take no path that would turn you from honor. For when you turn aside, we all do." As the Wayhali spoke, his daughter began to weave a black feather into Puapasho's hair. Content with her work, she slipped back into the smoke and shadow smiling. Now Puapasho's father emerged from the indiscriminate faces. His features were painted black, but it was impossible to hide a father from a son. "What do you seek, Puapasho? What do you bring to your searching?"

[Puapasho]

Cool fingers traced over the boy's chin, bringing his eyes to meet the Wayhali's daughter's own. Cool and kind they were, she was an oasis of beauty. His anxiety was eased with her kindness and the watery touch of her hands. Her father's words echoed through the cave and Puapa focused on him, the scene taking on a solemn and equally exciting atmosphere. The desert flower moved and swayed with the tendrils of smoke, all a companion to the steady tone of their tribe's man of knowledge and leader.


"We are with you in the raven, in our gods, in our wisdom. When you leave us, you take us. When you walk alone we follow. So take no path that would turn you from honor. For when you turn aside, we all do."

The words moved through his body and soul like a sidewinder, the sands of his homelands could never cover these words nor could the night hide them. As the words were being spoken to him, Puapa could not help but flash a glance to his right, as the beautiful dancer was weaving a black feather into his hair. It was pleasurable but momentary, as his attention returned to the elder speaking to him. All was quiet and the moment of truth was on the horizon, awaiting him.

His father stepped into view, looking forward and not recognizing his son, not in a fatherly way. He as all of them had been where Puapa now stood. The young man could tell his father was proud, however. His shoulders back, his chest puffed, his stance straight. Not the usual form for a tracker, usually hunched down and searching.

His words came clear. He had not prepared the words. He had only prepared himself. " I bring the knowledge of my father, the wisdom of my people, the patience of the desert and Brother Crow. He is always with me." He now mirrored his father's stance, a paragon of pride as he waited for the unknown.