Disclaimer: I do not own dæmons (*sniff*). I do not own Lyra, although she is not in this particular chapter/story/written thingamajiggy. Philip Pullman owns both. I own neither the world nor the Edge of the World; the world belongs to (select one) a)all of us, b)God, c)nobody, d)various Gods and Goddesses, or e)none of the above. I do not own Gypsies. They own their selves. However, this particular variation belongs to me, as it is not Philip Pullman's variation and about a million SciFi/fantasy writers have used the same variation anyway. I DO, however, own the following: La'ana, Aurora La'ana, the Goddess La'ana, if a Goddess can be owned, the seer Nexa, Naré and Kela, Arvan, Tavela, Zan, Verya, K'char, La'ana's father, and all sha'leth. Again, many of these can't be owned, as they tend to take on a life of their own. In scientific/theoretical language, (insert name of character/species here) tends to exist. And as slavery is not permitted where I live, and I would not like to own slaves of any species (including animal) in any case, I can't own these people. I do not own George Dubya and his atrocious speeches.
A/N: This is less a chaptered story than a collection of closely related short short stories. As well as a repeated demonstration of my less-than-adeptness at endings. LOL.
***
My name is La'ana, after my mother and the Goddess of Darkness. My mother died before I was one year old; at least I think she died. Though I witnessed it, I have never been sure.
I do not know my father. All I remember of him is a bearded face above mine, the colors unsure to my infant's eyes. I live with two Gypsies, both women, who were friends with the sha'leth who rescued me from the icy expanse of the North, where my mother left me. Sha'leth are shy, small, nearly human but not. They are neither male nor female, and there are very few remaining. This Church thing that is rising into power is bent on destroying them. I am bent on saving them. They have given me the name La'ana Sha'leth, and I am welcome among them, as a daughter, mother, sister all at once. Mostly I am a daughter. I think my name has too many apostrophes, but I am honored to be one of them. They have so many secrets you could lose yourself in the knowledge for lifetimes. Secrets are familiar to me; I am a living one.
My Gypsy mothers are Naré and Kela. Naré is like her use-name, É, sharp like a knife but blunt, tough but an ally who will never betray you. Kela could be called a softer, quieter version of her mate, but Kela is not a version of anything. Kela is herself, and no less. She is a dancer, and É is a drummer. We have a dwelling just outside a small Northern village. Or that is what we call it, dwelling, although I argue that it is not, as we do not dwell there. Kela and Naré's Gypsy blood keep us moving, keep us traveling, and we live as nomads. I am content with this. I am not a girl, I am something more. I may have some Gypsy blood in me, after all.
I have a Sha'leth family, as well. The entire tribe has taken me as kinswoman, daughter, cousin, sister, and mother, but one family in particular has adopted me. Arvan and Tavela, and my siblings, Zan and K'char, are more secretive, less brazen than Naré and Kala, but no less gay. No less whole-hearted. So you see, I am not alone. I am not an orphan.
My third family: blood family. My mother was Aurora La'ana, Light-within-the-Darkness, and she vanished in a cloud of light at the edge of the world. I remember light streaming from her palms into the sky the night she vanished. She rose, and was gone, but the light remained. It is called the Aurora, the Northern Lights. Something changed in the world that night, and although I do not know what it was, I am part of it. I feel it.
My father, as I said, I do not know, and barely remember.
Tonight is the longest night of the year, La'ana K'lestra, the middle of winter. La'ana's night. Tonight I go to the Edge of the World with the sha'leth seer Nexa. It has told me of a vision it saw, of a raven which is the familiar of La'ana, and how that raven flew from the aurora, covered in light, and lit upon my arm. She told me it spoke to me, and that I must go, tonight, to the place where my mother died. I do not know what this means, but it brings to me a strange sense of something that must be done, and so I will go. In any case, Nexa is my friend, and would not lie to me. It reminds me of an old grandmother, wrinkled like a dried apple, and I sometimes forget that it is not she. Perhaps, although their bodies are sexless, their souls are not.
A thin layer of snow crunches beneath my boots. It snowed today, rare in this cold Northern desert. My breath is not a cloud, it is nearly solid whiteness. Nexa, next to me, is small and silent. While I am furred and sealskinned and still cold, it is dressed only in a thin, silky cloak the color of night. I am not sure what this fabric is; sha'leth do not disclose all of their secrets, even to those they foster. But neither do I, to anybody, and we fit together closely, each understanding the ways of the other. It is a silent relationship, and a good one.
We are near the Edge. Here, the snow and ice are dotted with dancing light, reflecting the vast aurora above us. Something stirs in me, some memory of my mother, something powerful. Above me, the sky extends outward, outward, outward. The moon is dark, but I can see its outline, near the highest point in the heavens. Some strange feeling- apprehension? excitement? a mixture of both?- is building in me. And then the moon reaches its zenith, and the aurora flickers. Flickers, and out of it flies a raven, glittering with light, large and dark and majestic. It knocks the breath out of me, even as I lift my arm, entranced, and it alights on my wrist. I look into its eyes, and they are my mother's, black, black, black, and dancing with light. And then he hops to the ground, to the ice, and for a moment the world spins.
:La'ana.: There is a tiger there.
:Verya.:
We are two parts
of one whole
together
and the earth
is mine.