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Okay, so I thought maybe Dawali could tell them a story? I set it to the Town Hall as I've yet to plot out how Dawali will get himself a new hut with a leg broken. The Town Hall has a nice cosy hearth in it as well, so I thought it could be cool to sit there?
Powerplay Dawali at will, and very sorry about the length, I tried to make it shorter! >< This is the story I'm using.
It ached, his leg, but not so much that he couldn't limp around these days. He knew he shouldn't, but he did it anyway. Still, it felt like he was stabbing himself in the back; he knew too well the risks. Even without him pushing the limits, he could wind up limp for the rest of his life. Jefferson came to mind, and although he would never be quite so hindered by this injury as Jefferson was by his, it was not a pleasant thought. On the upside of things, he did have lots of time to spend with his family. In many ways, the two girls were his family. Certainly, Sakari was family by blood, but Ayasha, too, felt like a daughter to him. It was strange, in a sense, to think that Sakari was his sister's child, while still feeling as if she was his own. He had found them both when they were so young, after all, and they had both desperately needed someone to help them. During these long, dull days of simply waiting for bone to grow, they were such a comfort. Just sitting with them next to him, two small bodies sharing so generously their body warmth with him, was something he knew he would not be without. And it had been so long since his daughters had even come by his little tribe, too. Loneliness was no longer an issue with the two children around, and he loved them dearly.
The Town Hall had a hearth and, now with the snow storm over, a better suited supply of firewood. Nayati and Liliana, Ralla and many of the others cared for the duties that he could not handle himself, and since he had no new hut yet, he had taken the Town Hall as his home for the time being. He'd gathered up some blankets to make a comfortable seat next to the hearth, all propped up with a long piece of wood on each side along his leg to act as a splint. It only hurt that much when he moved - otherwise he drank teas to help manage. The two girls had not needed instruction to avoid touching the leg; it was quite clear that he was in pain. The hearth burned merrily, and Dawali was having a good day as well, despite the dreariness.
"What do you say, girls. Want to hear an old legend?" Dawali smiled, expecting an encouraging response. He sometimes wondered if they were bored, too, but didn't want to say so. He did allow them to go outside during the day when there were wolves around, but still. Kids were always so full of energy. Some evenings, though, it was nicer to sit in here. "This moon is called Kagali - d'you know what it means?" he asked, glancing at Sakari who might have picked up that word in the Tribe for all he knew. "Bones. This moon is the bony moon, and we all remember those that have died, like Meda, and your mother, Ayasha." It was perhaps not the greatest subject for a cozy evening by the hearth, but it was important nonetheless. "I don't think they are gone. I heard a legend once, about how the dead come and dance when we aren't looking. It's true, too, it happened in AniWaya." He paused and glanced at them, moving his arms around to show just how serious he was. To him, this story was not a lie or anything like that; it was proof of his beliefs. The dead become spirits, and their spirits were free.
"Once, the whole tribe went to collect acorns as part of a tradition. Everyone went, even small children, the old and the sick, because everyone had to be included. But while they were gone, a neighbor came to visit, and found that the whole village was just empty. He wanted to wait for us to come back, though, so he went into a hut where it was more comfortable, and waited. He fell asleep there, because it took such a long time for the tribe to return, but then after a while he was woken up by sounds of drums and rattles, and voices he knew. He had visited the tribe many times, and he was old, and recognized the voices of AniWayans long dead. He listened closely but was afraid to look, but after a while he was certain; it was the dead, they were all there!" The male moved his one arm up towards the window, where a little bit of darkened sky, and some shy evening stars could be seen. Gvihita landed on the roof outside; he could hear her. Her wing beats were different from the regular owls in the area. Had she come to listen to his story, too?
"He listened to their dancing and singing for a while, before he could not stop himself and had to open the door to the hut and see. He was just too curious. But when he poked his head out of the hut, all he could see was a lot of birds flying away, and he thought he saw a rattle that fell to the ground, but when he checked it was just a root. The wolf never heard the song and dance ever again, but he knew now. The dead came to dance while the tribe was away; their spirits were free, and the tribe was never alone." Dawali smiled. It was such a beautiful and comforting thought, that Theodoric and Noir could come here to dance when the tribesmembers weren't looking. That they knew home, even when they were dead, and that they had found their way here.
"So, I think your friends are here somewhere, you know." It could have been creepy, but Dawali didn't think it was.