Disclaimer: These characters belong to Kathy Reichs, Fox, Far Field Productions, and Josephson entertainment.
The sun rose, a bright children's play thing, lost in the sky by an enthusiastic child, waiting the long twelve hours of day the glowing ball to fall back down to their tiring arms. Though the bright beams of the sun's light met them only now, their eyes had been open, aware for more than three hours, the crust of a sleepless night lurching into the corners and cracks of their sockets. All to see one man, one fog covered, shadowed man. He had appeared just after they had arrived, a dull shadow in what was left of midnight's fog. Every few moments a dull flash of green, yellow, orange or red would light the thick air around him, a figure drowned in a musty color for merely a half second. By the time the sun had dared kiss the sky he was gone.
Flipping the thick band of his watch he stared at the time 5:02 AM. They had arrived here at 2:15 AM. Yawning he stole a glance at his partner, her brown hair framing a tired, but enlightened face. She was happy, a feeling he rarely associated with her. She usually seemed so uptight and distant. She wasn't one to often share her feelings, except for recently, about her father and brother, but never on any other topic, and very carefully on that subject. But not now; now she smiled through a thin veil of exhaustion. She had finally seen it. The thought of her passion for her job, her life made him smile. This was just another part of the job, the more surprising, less saddening side of her anthropological expertise.
The Piraha people of the banks of the Maici River had done this for years upon years. The tribe elder, this one a tall, round man with stringy, graying black hair would ask the sun to rise. Using ingredients naturally found in the environment, and commonly found in American and Asian fireworks; he would temporarily light the night before dawn, an offering of hand held sunbeams to the earth and sun. The tribe believed that the tribal leader had a connection to nature itself, that because he performed this ritual every morning the parrots were their brilliant colors, it was why flowers could grow so brightly, why the sun came up each day.
She had explained it all to him on the plane ride over, a ride the length of which he could not recall; he had been too energized by her excitement to pay attention to the time that passed. They had landed in Brazil at 17:57 or 5:57pm American time. That had only been a few hours ago. Now they sat, just outside there tents, silent, and tired. When they had arrived he had waited and watched as Temperance Brennan had spoken Portuguese to several of the natives, getting general interpretations as to where the tribe could have settled. Eventually they had ended up with a guide who now slept in another tent pitched nearly a mile from where theirs now sat. He had cautioned them against getting so close to the tribe's home site, but Brennan had insisted upon getting close enough to see the ritual; an event she had missed countless times before by listening to a guide or by sleeping too long, and other just as many countless reasons. But now she had seen it.
Turning to face her, his smile mirrored hers as she stared at the dawning sky.
"Good Morning Temperance."
She turned her own gaze to his, the small smile broadening.
"Good Morning Seeley."
From that moment on he knew he'd have to vacation with Temperance Brennan more often.
A/N: Okay, The Tribe is real, the tradition? Nope. But I hope you enjoyed the story, it was meant to be fluffy and beautiful imagery wise. Hope you Enjoyed!