05-17-2009, 06:18 AM
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| http://i692.photobucket.com/albums/vv28 ... /raven.png); background-repeat: no-repeat; background-position: bottom; border:1px solid black;"> Word Count: 588 They all threw sand on the fire, and when Attila as the last one came in to help he finished it off. What had been a great column of flames was now a small, winding string of smoke, rising to the sky to mix with the other elements. Dawali looked at it for a second, overcome with memories from gatherings like this one in his years in the tribe - before they had to move. They had been so many, and the ceremony had been such a great experience for them all. Now they were few, and he was the only one who truly felt the significance of their ritual. It didn't make him sad, because he knew that it would come - spirituality would find them, as their spirit guides did. No person with the aid of a spirit can deny the many layers of life - and especially not the spiritual one. Looking back at the young boy, who luckily had found some entertainment in the killing of the fire, Dawali smiled. He was happy with them all, and you could only expect children to be unruly. Nodding, Dawali spoke before reaching for his belt and taking off the thread with his two rocks - the means of making fire. The ceremonial fire's flames have died, and now they will be relit. This is our rebirth, and the world's rebirth, and we shall respect it like we respect the dangers of fire. He'd seen the little funny look on Noir's face as she smelled the tobacco - it'd been entertaining. Oceane, too, was not untouched, and it seemed Ember had taken a whiff as well. Quickly getting down to one knee, Dawali found a piece of wood among the twigs he'd collected for this, and within not long he had skillfully created new flame in the middle of the still warm, but dead construction of poles and firewood. It grew very fast since the wood was still warm, and as the sub-leader rose he smiled, one arm reaching out the big pile behind him and removing the cover, only to reveal a large heap of semi-raw meats. It was the results of Catherine's hunt, and now everyone would take part in the feasting. The ceremonial fire is alight again. Now, we can feast and celebrate! Every night for six more nights there will be a feast here, and dancing. Please, help yourself, and have fun! Smiling, Dawali took a small chunk of flesh and threw it to Attila, who had complained so much about not getting any food. Then, not hungry, but content with his tribe's participation, he sat down on a piece of leather at a comfortable distance from the fire, drew out his small home made flute and started playing. It only had five tones, made from wood, and he played the native songs of his people, songs that everyone had known when he was a child. Everyone had sung them, played them, hummed them as they worked in the fields, yelled them as they marched to the hunt and war. Now it was only him, but he would bring these traditions to his new people, that was his goal. The melodies were sometimes heavily rhythmical, inviting to dance, and some were swimming, smooth sounds jumping from one tone to another, as if exploring the air they had been created with. He smiled as he played, a strange a grin as one ever saw, but it was a pleasant face nonetheless. |