[Flashback] Not Until We Are Lost

[Ijuiashke]

SUMMER, 507 AV

He raised his head and saw his father's face blocking the sunlight from the east. It had been 15 minutes since the ritual ended but his father has not yet finished whispering his pleas to the wind. Ijuiashke was leaving the camp, but it would not be permanent. In the tradition of the Chaktawe, he needs to be in solitude, away from the rest of his tribe to search for himself. The tribe has just celebrated Ijuia's day of birth around a Tatsuwaat fire pit the other night, and it was this soon that he has to leave to search for his guardian, to pray to his god Eywaat. His clan has great plans in Ijuia, being the only male that has been born to their lineage for this generation and the only viable hunter therefore. He might not survive the ordeals of the searching, they fear, and their clan may not persist anymore. "Give him shelter, give him guidance. Lead him to where his future lies..." His father was talking to his guardian. It is uncommon for Chaktawe parents to pray for their children, but in the face of real danger, his father could not help but be fearful for Ijuia's life. He cannot afford losing Ijuiashke at all. There was a silence in the wind. "Go now, Ijuia. Leave this place. We will move once you disappear from the horizon. You will be lost, yes, but not until you are lost would you begin to understand yourself. You will find us when you are ready." "Yes, father." The solemnity in his voice surprised him. There was a feeling that was rising from the pit of his stomach, but he didn't mind it. He rose from kneeling and turned his back immediately. He hung his backpack around one shoulder, and sprinted to the next sand dune over half a kilometer away. He looked through the corner of his eye and saw that the tribe was shifting and the people were scurrying about trying to put everything into saddlebags. Then, he knew that this was real, he was going to leave his family, maybe for days but it could stretch to months or years. He felt his heart grow heavy and running became more difficult. However, he had to leave and set shelter before the sun would set. More importantly, he had to be ready before noon would arrive, when earth monsters would resurface to bathe in the warmth of midday sun.

[Ijuiashke]

The day was uneventful. Ijuia was safe under his coat that he used as a blanket to shield against the desert elements. He also buried part of the clothing, that was adorned with feathers, under sand so that he could blend in more with the surroundings. He did not want to attract attention from any wild animals or monsters which may pass him by while he was asleep. Ijuia has never been to a searching. Most Chaktawe men only get a chance at accomplishing the task once in their life. Having just turned fifteen, of course he could not have been to any searching. It is here, alone, that they find their inner selves and eventually, their guardian animal. But Ijuia did not know what he should do now that he was actually alone. Was he supposed to dance to crow god, Eywaat? Was he supposed to call out to his ancestors to give him a sign? He was clueless. He lay on the sand, under the same fur blanket, and thought about the life that lay in front of him. He could be successful with this attempt at being a full Chaktawe man. On the other hand, if he should fail... there is no failure in the searching, only certain death if success is not imminent. Having to survive on their own, the Chaktawe youth are just what they are: young. And when people are young, most are naive and clueless about the world around them... just as Ijuia was at the moment. Clueless and still on the desert ground. However, the Chaktawe expects more from their boys. Under the blazing heat of the desert sun and under the mercy of the wind, a Chaktawe man should rise from the ashes of a Chaktawe boy. Ijuiashke rose from his bed of sand. He sat up and surveyed his surroundings. It was growing dark.

[Colombina]

OOCHey do me a favor and edit out the fact you’re the only male in the tribe. (Unless by clan you meant immediate family.) You being the only male would prohibit other male PC's from joining this tribe, which would be a bummer. See what I mean? Tribe wide stuff has to be run by me so I can make it fit. I also took the liberty of changing the sentence about the ritual starting to ending. Because you don’t know your tribe’s ritual yet

As Ijuiashke laid under his blanket, he thought of the ritual from the day before. Its jubilation was so different from the stark loneliness he now found.

The prettiest daughters of the tribe had danced for him, telling the story of Eywaat’s creation of the Keerdash grove. How the god had persevered against the stubbornness of the desert ground and coaxed Makutsi to give him a spring.

The loveliest of the girls wore scarlet and lapis blue. They wove about one another just as the water flowed to the roots of the ruby trees. All moved light as birds their bronze arms lifting and falling with Ethaefal grace. Joy radiated from their gestures as they danced in pure celebration.

Pipes played only sweetness and Ijuiashke was given a crown of Keerdash leaves by the Wayhali.
“Remember us and remember joy as you seek our gods,” the Wayhali instructed, “For though you may tire in the night, strength will come in the morning.”

The night was rising and he felt spun about, confusion swirling his thoughts. He was here, now what? His unspoken questions earned no answers. Instead the mute desert stretched before him, turning slate colored in the twilight. If his aim was manhood, then the world would give him no nursing. Only the prayers of his father were behind him.

In the emptiness and solitude he had no barriers and no boons. The vast sand and sky instead asked what he intended to do. Ijuiashke’s canvas was wide and the god of inventiveness was roaming.

[Ijuiashke]

OOCSorry if it's vague. I meant that he was the only male in his clan, i.e. people who share his bloodline with a common ancestor of less than five generations earlier.

He walked to the nearest sand dune, tall and mighty even amidst the eroding winds of the desert. He started digging foot after foot into the mountain of sand, although he did this with little effort. Chaktawe people have walked on Eyktolian sands for hundreds of years, that people even say that the soles of their feet have developed a porous texture unique to the surface of the desert. In fact, the most bizarre thing a Chaktawe could ever do would be walking on something else other than sand. He reached the top of the dune soon enough and he could see the vast desert, stretching for miles without end. In his Chaktawe lineage, they have been gifted with incredible eyesight, perfect for the volumes of indistinct structures that normal eyes would probably see in the Eyktolian horizon. To his east, he saw that a rocky portion of the desert had been populated by various flora--several Carnejos, a thick line of Enseli bushes, and a few Atripoja shrubs. Water, he thought to himself. Although he had drank enough water the night before to last him a month, he still thought it important to gather enough, in case his searching would last longer than he had prepared. He slid down the dune on its eastern edge, the almost-fluid nature of very tiny sand particles making the move possible and less painful. He found himself within the vicinity of the oasis in no time, running with the gale that pushed against his back. The floral refuge was a stubborn presence in the baning desert. Against all odds, water sprung up from under the earth and gave life to this small patch of green that grew through the years wilder and wilder. The Chaktawe values these infrequent miracles, which is the continuing providence of Makutsi. Ijuia's people would protect these oases, not only for their own use, but more importantly, for the thirsting brave who dare to venture the Eyktolian sands. So he walked to the middle of the small watering-hole and pulled out a waterskin from his backpack. The container dove into the water, and at once it was filled with enough water that could last this Chaktawe another month.

[Colombina]

When Ijuiashke touched the water to fill his skin he found it achingly cold, burning his flesh to the very bone. At the pool’s bottom was the skeleton of the world, austere stones. The water slithered between them and from them. The pool’s alarming clarity was swirling away, a black current began to curl and laze from beneath. It was unsettling and beautiful. The water seemed just as clean despite the fluid tangle of black overwhelming it. The inky swirl began to rise to just beneath the surface then spread and bloom across the entire pool. For a moment, Ijuiashke stared into a pool of living lace, graceful as smoke thick as reeds. At the end of a blink, the darkness constricted into a single point in the middle of the pool. A voice followed, agile and wonderful as streams in the desert. “No thanks for my gift? Your father had the wisdom to pray to me the moment he began his searching.” The dark circle began to rise, betraying it as the crown of a woman’s head. Her large eyes shifted between silver and gold, and her dark hair floated and twirled around her fluidly. She was young and strong featured, like Chaktawe and the women of the green wilds. She stood barefoot on the water now, haloed in blue glass or light. It was impossible to tell which substance. “It is on his behalf that I come to you now. You have not asked for me in your lonely hours, though I have been eager to listen.” She smiled mysteriously, “Your father is dear to me. I remember him when he was a young man.” A mist began to fill the air. It was a dazzling silver veil as it reflected the desert's relentless light.