Piercing the Bleak Chapter Seven

After being discovered in the Greylands and brought to the Mountain Tribe by young Ragmon Ebterstep, Xacquan finds herself gradually adjusting to her new environment. Until...

My fascination with young Ragmon Ebterstep’s homeland grew with every passing day.  These days �" they were so much more prominent atop the mountains �" elapsed uniquely, so uniquely that I found it impossible to establish a norm.

On my second day in the clan, there was a ‘bonfire’.  The tribesmen, who seemed to have found a way to tame the orange flows, introduced the flows to a tall, cone shaped bundle of wood that enabled them to grow brighter.  “Are you alright, Zee?” little Ragmon said to me sometime during the celebration.  He crawled upon my sitting-boulder and tousled my hair, which had been done for the very first time.  “Are you enjoying this?  Tell me you are…  It’s all in your honor, you know.”

“Try to imagine my fascination,” I whispered under my breath, “to see even another being in this world.  Now, there are…so many…  And so many types, as well.  Of those I have counted in my brief time here, I have seen the young and the old.  The males and the females.  The assertive and the subservient.   The light grey and the dark grey.  All these people…  I could compare them to the trees in the Greylands; there were many, but they were all twisted in different ways.  But that would be an understatement.”

Ragmon was quiet for awhile.  “At least you know the difference between males and females,” he said.  “Don’t tell me… Did somebody show you?”

I looked downward.  “The males and females you pointed out were similar in some ways,” I said.  “So I categorized them.  The males, they have the hair above their shoulders, which were bare most of the time, along with the rest of their torsos.  The females, they have the rounded chests and the hair below their shoulders.”

“Oh…Okay,” said Ragmon.  “Now what if I grew my hair out and wore clothing upon my shoulders?  Would I be a female?”

“You forgot the curve of the chest,” I said, pointing to my own.  This caused Ragmon to look away, and when he looked back at me, he was blushing.

“Okay,” he said finally.  “What if I had a curved chest?”

I thought about it.  “Then you would be a female, I suppose,” I said, sighing.

“Heh heh heh heh heh…” went Ragmon.  “Alright, Zee,” he said, tousling my hair again before sliding off of the boulder.  “I kinda like your view.” 

I watched silently as he joined up with Oppy, who was moving his body in the strangest way.  ‘Dancing,’ Ragmon had called it earlier.  Almost instantly, they proceeded to shove each other, and soon had to be separated.  Peculiar people, I thought to myself, brushing my fingers over the Cray remnant in my pocket.  So peculiar.

 

That same night, I enjoyed my first true meal.  I had eaten throughout the day, small things with unusual tastes that I couldn’t enjoy.  But this meal… 

The night before, for the first time ever, I had been shown the stars.  Without the clouds, they shined so brightly, tiny pinpoints of light that could rival even the orange flows.  An elderly woman, wrinkled and wise-eyed, had come up to me.  She had whispered, “Stars… They look tiny now.  Very tiny.  But they are not.  Take whatever world is in your head and multiply it by one hundred, one thousand, one million, one billion!  That is the size of those specks, child.  And sometimes, they explode.  Then, they are called ‘supernovas’.”

Though I had never seen a supernova before, tasting my first meal upon my tongue made me imagine one.  Boom! went my mind, my love of tree-suckling, my taste buds. 

‘Meat,’ explained Ragmon.  ‘Kalikari meat, brought to us by the Santakaio clan and preserved for special occasions only.  …  Everyone seems to think you’re special, Zee.  The oracles speak of a prophecy, and I think you’re part of it.”

 

On the third day, I was brought before the head elder.  I was stripped of all my clothes except rags to wrap around my chest and hips, and was made to kneel at his feet.  Although each day with the mountain clan was vastly different and equally unpredictable, I got the sense that this one, of any, would be one of the most important.  I needed to show the utmost respect.  To the ground, I pressed my forehead.

“Rise, Xacquan Oftecray,” said the elder, his voice loud and clear.

I stood, staring into his deep silver eyes that resonated with the weight of the world.  He was a fellow that, with one look, conveyed the sense that you’d known him forever.  And he was obviously a distinguished man.  Around his neck, he wore a necklace of shiny, crystalline beads.  His clothes were made of the finest satin.

“Do you accept the terms and conditions for joining as a member of the Mountain clan?” he asked.

“I wouldn’t think not to…” I said, my chest hammering.  “I mean… Yes, of course.”

“Do you pledge your life on us?”

“Yes, of course.”

I bowed.  I don’t know how I knew to do so.  It was instinctive.  But the next thing I knew, sweet, sticky oil was dripping from my nest of dark hair, running down my forehead, and creating a puddle upon the ground.

“Light the fire,” said the elder, and a figure, clad in white ceremonial garments and masked, came forward with a torch bearing orange flows �" flames.

I felt the warmth on my head and cheeks.  I felt the torch brush against my ear.  I felt a flicker of fear kindle inside of me, remembering the orange flows nipping and searing my feet and legs.  All instincts told me to run, to get away, to cringe from the flame.  But I didn’t.  I stayed, stood still, bowed my head.  And then I saw orange!

Orange, orange, orange!  It was all around me!  In my eyes, in my head, down my chin, on the ground.  I, Xacquan Oftecray, was an orange flow!  I was all powerful!  A being of light and amazement!  I was…!  I was a Mountain person.

I did not feel any pain.   All around me, the tribe clapped and cheered.  Euphoria, I was beyond that.  I had transcended all I’d ever known.

And then, a woman gasped.  A soft gasp, one of mild uncertainty.  But then, another gasped, and another, and another, and another!  The tribe around me, soon they were all comprised of a solid Oooh, and quickly, I saw why.  I was no longer glowing orange, but silver!  Magnificent silver!  Majestic silver, like the beads the elder wore around his great distinguished neck.

“She is the one,” uttered the gasping woman, an utterance of mild uncertainty.  And like her previous response, the tribe followed along, one by one until everybody was uttering, “She is the one.  She is the one.  She is the one.”

Even little Ragmon was whispering it, so engrossed in my silver light that he could stand right beside Ophithellos without fighting.

They all stood there, eyes locked on me, until the silver fire disappeared.  Then, person by person, they came up to me.  Hugged me.  Kissed my hands, my feet, my cheeks.  I stood by, awestruck, not quite understanding of the circumstances.  I thought maybe it was customary to do this with all welcomings, but then someone whispered, “Our goddess has returned.  Let us rejoice.”

I looked toward the elder to see him sobbing.  He took me by the arm and led me to his throne, where he instructed me to sit.  More foot-kissing, more hand-kissing.  Village girls and boys, with grapes and meats upon the fanciest plates, came up to me and began feeding me by hand.

I felt stifled by it all.  I wanted to run.  But everyone looked so… happy.  Everyone except Ragmon.

When the celebration was over, he came up to me and began washing the oil from my hair.  Schhhmt, schhhhmt, his nose was going, and his eyes were rimmed with red.  “You seem unhappy,” I whispered to him.

“It’s a great day for our tribe,” Ragmon told me.  “A great day indeed.  You’re going to save us, Zee.  You’re going to bring us prosperity and health so great that I won’t even have to get Greylands medicine anymore.  But I take it that nobody’s shown you the prophecy yet, yeah?”

“I haven’t seen it,” I confirmed, my voice rising with fear.

“I suppose it’s for the better, then…” Ragmon said.  “Though if I knew that you were her, I would’ve never taken you from the Greylands.  ‘Cause, Zee, you see…  If the prophecy really comes true, that means you’re going to…” He took a ragged breath, his face crumpling.  “You’re going to… You’re going to…  Aghh...!”  Schhhmt, schhhmt, schmmmt….

“Say it, Ragmon!” I growled, clutching his shoulders.

“Alright,” he said.  Schhhmt.  “Zee.  I hate to break it to you.  But… you’re going to die!”