“But the Growing Ceremony is tomorrow. It’s the most sacred day of the year. Our young ones need you.”
“It is the most sacred day. Perhaps that is why we’ve been drawn to the most sacred place.”
The two eldest pairs of eyes slowly looked through the Oihane tribe counsel. Though they’d prepared themselves so they appeared unruffled and calm, both felt as though most of the counsel were mirrors of their confused anxiety.
Those who weren’t expressed anger, “Is it the Yemi?”
“It is the change. The Yemi’s abilities lie in herbs and darkness. What power have they to prompt such change? We leave now for the Sacred Crystal. Guard the ceremony well.”
“And listen.” The eldest added onto his mate’s words, “If we must honor our ancestors best by being ready to hear and heed change, then let us honor them.”
“What is this change?”
Silence met this question. As the silence stretched, and both elders felt their uncertainty grow, they turned to leave before it could show.
“Go with blessings, if you must. But what of those who look to you tomorrow? What do we tell the young ones?”
“We trust you. What never changes is the strength we have in our tribal bonds.”
“Nor our duty to honor life. First our tribe, then others, and finally ourselves. Remind yourselves of that, and all the young ones. Our blessings.”