Is My Fire Yours to Claim?

Ralla · 01-04-2012, 10:10 PM

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Kk Tongue

The short word that cut the silence made Ralla's shoulder's drop visibly, tension escaping her as an apparent first part of the test was completed. At the very least Ulilohi seemed pleased with her , and this gave the young woman renewed confidence.

Next was proper materials, it seemed. This one was easy for Ralla, too. Many a long afternoon and season she had spent chopping wood to feed the fire and the hearths of the tribe--many a moon she had spent studying how they each burned differently. Of course Dawali had given her the original types of firewood that were good--which Ralla explained to Ulilohi with great detail, describing their bark types and when they should be cut--but Ralla had expanded into how each firewood created a scent by herself. Some would become charcoal after a long time of burning, and others would burn fast like kinder.

Ralla explained how most trees had to be cut at a very particular age--which could be discerned by height and the pliability of their branches--when they were none too young, none too strong, and none too old. There was an in-between age where the tree would burn bright--if they had already fallen, all the better--and where it would not be an offense to the earth spirits to chop one of their elder trees. A tree could not be cut too young, otherwise it wouldn't burn at all, no matter how long it dried. But when Ralla really got into how each wood burned, she became passionate. She loved the scents that each wood created, and found certain smells more appropriate for an occasion or ceremony than another. Oak was a treat for the summer, if there was a fallen log: It was earthy and bright, yet had a heavy scent of summer fields. Maple was a rare treat for the fall: She had rarely used it because it required much time to dry out the sap, but when it was burned it smelled like the life-blood of its rings, filling the air with a sweet honeysuckle. In winter there were plenty of dead ash branches, and it was a light scent that permeated the air as far as an evergreen, where it then disappeared among the trees' musk. And in spring she had favored alder, with their flowers just coming in. If the flowers were pulped and rubbed into the bark with a bit of liquid tallow (this process she used only for the Great Fire itself) it released a sweet smell that reminded her instantly of sunlight. Each season held a memory for her, and although the white woman named what was asked of her, she couldn't help but insert those experiences of the wood.

More than a beacon and more than their guide, the Great Fire was a reminder of the circle of life. Ralla would feed it the wood of the land, supplementing its hungry mouth with more fuel, and it would release the beauty of each tree fed to it in succession. When the ashes were cleaned and renewed, the ash then fed the earth and all the trees within it. It was a beautiful, simple thing, but all the effort Ralla had put into the fire reminded her of the dedication that she held for her beliefs, the tribe, and herself.

Moon walks. "Moon talks." Moon thinks.

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