Talasi's Story
Talasi woke to the daily cacophony of birdsong at sunup and instinctively checked to see whether Foalen had returned to his bedroll, as she had done each dawn since he had left. And, as it had every morning that the young woman found the soft woven blankets empty and unused, Talasi's heart sank. It had been a year since he had gone.
The grey-haired, kind-eyed shaman, whom she called "Father," noted this repetition of his adoptive daughter's daily ritual as he stirred some steeping herbs; one of the women of the village had stepped on a sharp rock and would need a poultice for her foot.
Tuwa, the loyal rust-furred wolf that Talasi called friend, also watched through amber eyes from her place near the teepee's door. She sensed a change in her friend this morning, but wether for good or ill she could not yet tell.
Her heart heavy as a stone, Talasi rose and, squinting to see through the pungent clouds of steam from the shaman's work, began to prepare breakfast for the three of them; herself, Father, and her other "brother," the shaman's other apprentice. She still couldn't understand why he'd chosen more than one; there was never more than one shaman's apprentice. But she loved her other brother almost as well as she had loved Foalen, her first adoptive brother.
It was always difficult to tell what the breakfast porridge smelled like around the sharp, clean smell of Father's herbs. At best, it managed to add a subtle earthy undertone to the exotic mixture of scents. Of course, it was hard to taste the porridge, too, so she supposed that was all right.
Talasi found her mind drifting as she stirred the pot, petting Tuwa's sleek ears absently with her free hand. Where is he? Is he hurt? Dead? And why does noone seem to worry that he hasn't returned? The shaman noticed the faint worried frown on the small woman's countenance, and braced himself. Every morning, he thought. She's as implacable as the march of seasons!
"Father?" Talasi began. "Foalen's been gone a full year. May I please have your leave to go find him?"
With wise, loving eyes, the shaman looked at his adoptive daughter. The firelight hid the blue highlights of her raven-black tresses, and warmed her dark skin to a bright glow until she seemed made of flame herself. He had raised her from a small child, and had but one more lesson to teach her. His voice was not unkind as he spoke. "I, too, have marked the passing of the days. But no, you may not search for him."
It had happened too often for Talasi to be truly dissapointed by the response anymore, though for the first time she felt the spark of anger ignite in her breast. Did he not care that Foalen was missing? Fuming silently, for she would not openly defy Father, she served breakfast. As the other apprentice was still out hunting, she set a bowl for him to warm by the fire.
She spoke no more about searching for Foalen, but could not keep her mind from turning back to the thought. Tuwa watched her friend almost warily, waiting to see what this strange beginning to the day would bring.
As the sun rose higher in the sky, Talasi found herself outside staring with her dark eyes down the path Foalen had walked on his Vision Quest a year before. Absently her hand went first to her belt knife and then to a battered leather pouch on her belt. The pouch contained some jerky and dried fruit, as well as fishing line made from sinew and a carved bone fishhook. The knife was well-made, lovingly cared for, and sharp. Talasi met eyes with Tuwa, who dutifully glanced away and was forced to trot to catch up as her twolegged friend marched off into the forest without a word.
The shaman watched her go from the shadow of the forest's edge with a quiet sigh. He'd dreamed of this day many times, and as sad as he was to see her go he knew she must find her own way. This was his last lesson for her. He sent a prayer for her safe travel to the spirits, then turned and disappeared into the shadows of the wood.
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