She was old.
She had never given a lot of thought to the concept of aging, beyond acknowledging the passage of time as inevitable and right, a gift of the One. For her, time was not limited by its singular pace. If she imagined time as a river, the measure of it was not contained in the flowing water, but rather in the stones beneath the surface. It was not the stream of passing days and orbits, but the markers of epoch that defined a life.
As Eldest, she was the caretaker of the Tribal Song, teaching bits of the score daily, adding to the story as living required. The Song was mostly filled with a comforting sameness, the greys of clouds and the sounds of rain, scents borne on the winds, patterns of the glowing Ohmefrai, the occasional firelights, the comfort of the den, the offerings of new life and life departed, the essence of their world.
That essence, everything the Tribe had ever known and what they were, was recorded in what she pictured as a river bed. Understanding was a personal experience,with a unique and distinct manifestation to every Eye. Eldest before her thought of it as leaves on the forest floor. Third Son saw the image of rain falling and splashing, forming puddles. That mosaic, however it was perceived, contained the sum of Tribal Memory, going back generations before her time. Sometimes the past shone bright and vivid through crystal water. Sometimes the past was separated from the present by mud and silt, not viewable but still solid in its existence. Often Vision was like looking through turbulent eddies, it wavered, steadied for a moment of clarity, then faded.
Her river bed contained many pebbles. Some had been placed by her, holding parts of her own story and the Tribe as she knew. Other stones were older, some truly ancient. Over her long life she had examined many of those, seeing the past through other Eyes, living in memories that were not her own, shared through the Ihrid-Ohmefrai, passing them down to the Tribe through the Great Song.
Some memories she did not sing. She never sang of the horror of the first Salortog. She never sang of the Endilinti. Perhaps the desire to shield the Tribe was misguided wisdom and her silence had been a mistake.
Great Father was the first to enter the mind of a Salortog. It was Great Father who predicted their return and sang of the Endilinti, adding to the Tribal Song before his voice was stilled and he passed into the One. This she held in her own memory without needing Ihrid-Ohmefrai.
She was little more than a fledgeling when the Salortog fled the world initially, leaving their dens standing closed and silent. Most of their places were eventually emptied by other outsiders who did not try to stay. The wind hissed through abandoned stones and rain washed away the scent until none remained and the ruins faded into their land, becoming, for most of the Tribe, unimportant remnants left by odd visitors from a distant past.
Never great in number, the Tribe had slowly dwindled and Vision waned. There remained few with the Eye, among them only she, Third Son, Darkeye, and Halaba could far-see. Fledgling showed early talent, but he was little more than a baby, far from being able to See at will.
Third Son was perhaps the most powerful Eye the Tribe had ever known, living memories fully, his Vision bright. By nature a dreamer, he often delved in the very oldest Song. He had touched Doktor's mind before he came to the world, convinced that the Salortog was the foretold Endilinti.
Eldest Mother was not at all certain. As pragmatic as Third Son was visionary, her world was filled with question and doubt. The quiet years since the departure of the Salortog had lulled her into contentment and a sense of security, until Third Son discovered the Song of Endilinti during his questing. She recalled Great Father's final song with clarity, remembering the metal and physical strain he was under. All the Tribe had suffered, he, as their leader, more than the others. The Endilinti, she felt, was a dream figure constructed from a tortured mind preceding its journey into the One, an outcry formed by a tormented and pained essence reaching for conclusive resolution and peace. She tried to convey this to Third Son, but he was enamoured of prophecy, waiting for the Endilinti, searching eagerly through his Eye while her disquiet renewed in measure.
She now realized that her life would be bound on both ends by the creatures who came from outside. The Salortog had returned, whether ordained or coincidence, and now Doktor was here, Endilinti or no.
That was not a comforting thought. Eldest Mother smoothed her mantle and stretched, stepping down from her perch. It was almost nightfall. After visiting the toilet and bathing, she took a place in the atrium beside the spring-fed pool. Almost immediately several Daughters approached, hoping for a song. Although mentally weary, she had never turned away any of the Tribe when asked for song. She greeted them and commenced the well-known story of the first dwellers building the den. They listened quietly until she finished, then returned to their previous activities. She became aware of another set of eyes still intent on her, a presence she could feel at the edge of her mind. She sent a welcome through the tenuous connection that was not quite a link. Fledgling stepped from behind a supporting trunk and hobbled to her, happily pushing just under the shelter of her wing, nestling close as a hatchling would do. She touched her beak to his in greeting, privately warmed and amused by his affection and youthful exuberance.
"Is the way of Tribe to hide from sight or watch in secret, Fledgling?" Eldest Mother knew she failed at sounding stern. Her kind was long-lived and the time between hatchings was long. Fledgling was youngest, his uncommonly bright spirit was protected and nurtured by the others as he slowly matured.
He dipped his head, accepting the gentle rebuke, then met her gaze with too much excitement to be contrite. "I ask pardon, Mother. You felt my link?"
"You are improving, yes. And you heard my call." She preened his crown, sensing his satisfaction mixed with impatience. "You are yet young. The Eye within you will grow in its time."
"Time is slow."
"The days and nights pass at the same pace for the One. Our perception does nothing to alter the way of being."
"Father will not sing of Endilinti to me. Will you?"
She stopped grooming, startled. His eyes met hers, pupils constricting. She could see their color was beginning to change from fledgling to juvenile, the deeper reds already hinting of the adult Eye that was to come. Eldest felt a deep aching sadness, understanding of a sudden the concept of being old, of feeling old.
Fledgling felt her distress and pressed close, hiding his face in her breast. After a moment, Mother nudged him gently, and he looked up, uncertain and frightened. She trilled a nursery song of comfort and love before she spoke.
"How do you know of Endilinti, my Tenionifi?"
Hearing his nest name soothed Fledgling, as Mother knew it would.
He tilted his head. "I am not certain." He paused. "It is important to Father."
"Did he speak of this?"
"No. I tried to See on his Path. I could not." Fledgling's eyes grew far away. "The moving shadows hold my own, but the way is not clear." His voice held a timbre she had never heard from him.
Mother kept her visage quiet, although her heartbeat quickened in her chest. Fledgling was young, this was far too soon. "Your Path lies in shadow?"
"And at the edge of light. My Path is yet hidden, but I must be ready when He calls."
Mother's mouth felt dry. She swallowed before she could speak. "Who will call for you?"
His eyes were glassy and dark as he replied in the eerie voice. "The Endilinti."
A moment passed before he shook, and seemed to return to himself, the familiar Fledgling she knew. "I cannot See yet, Mother," he said mournfully.
"You will in time," she repeated as if the words were a mantra or a curse. She drew him closer underneath her wing, a protective gesture that seemed futile, but she had nothing else to offer. She trilled softly until he slept.
