I am First, my mother was First, her mother was First, her mother's mother was First
Without a change of seasons, Ayla had found that the days became a rhythmic progression of work and play. Her survival was not dependant upon her hunting and gathering, not now that she knew about the kitchen. She still worked her furs and made her bowls and baskets. She had found the metal knife and fork and spoon to be incredibly useful. Some nights she sat with Dani, some she slept in her cave. No one told her what to do, where to go, or how to act...mostly. She still needed clarification on some of the customs, but most had been internalized. She could even speak their language. The words she had, the accent and the subtleties were still impediments, though.
She was becoming more and more a woman of the Others, as she had been born to be.
This day, Ayla was sitting next to the pool, cradling two pieces of curved wood. She had tripped on something and had gathered it up to take it into the light to see what it was. As she'd held it in her hands, she thought she knew, but how could this be? Through the mouth of the cave and into the light, she saw. Iza's bowl! She had broken it at the Clan gathering, careless and under the influence of the sacred root. She had made the drink too strong and had swallowed too much. In her state she had dropped it and an ancient crack that had weakened the wood had been concealed by the built up white residue that coated the inside. She had dropped it and when it landed it split in two.
How could this be? How had Iza's bowl come to find her feet inside a cave far, far away from her people? Holding it reminded her of her mother. Of her life before. And of the crippled man with the scarred face whom she had loved above all and disappointed more than anyone. Ayla had come here and learned it was acceptible to smile. Now, alone, she did the other thing the Clan had never understood. What they had shunned. She did what made her different.
Ayla wept.
[Worst possible time to meet her for the first time. Ayla has found her item and she never cries. I'm not entirely sure how long she might even stick around, so if she runs away, I'm sorry]
She was becoming more and more a woman of the Others, as she had been born to be.
This day, Ayla was sitting next to the pool, cradling two pieces of curved wood. She had tripped on something and had gathered it up to take it into the light to see what it was. As she'd held it in her hands, she thought she knew, but how could this be? Through the mouth of the cave and into the light, she saw. Iza's bowl! She had broken it at the Clan gathering, careless and under the influence of the sacred root. She had made the drink too strong and had swallowed too much. In her state she had dropped it and an ancient crack that had weakened the wood had been concealed by the built up white residue that coated the inside. She had dropped it and when it landed it split in two.
How could this be? How had Iza's bowl come to find her feet inside a cave far, far away from her people? Holding it reminded her of her mother. Of her life before. And of the crippled man with the scarred face whom she had loved above all and disappointed more than anyone. Ayla had come here and learned it was acceptible to smile. Now, alone, she did the other thing the Clan had never understood. What they had shunned. She did what made her different.
Ayla wept.
[Worst possible time to meet her for the first time. Ayla has found her item and she never cries. I'm not entirely sure how long she might even stick around, so if she runs away, I'm sorry]