One woman with hair as fair as moon wobbles across the uneven soil. She taps her wooden cane on the surface, pulling herself up the hill. There are many people standing around silently observing, but the three elders are the only ones allowed to enter into the chanted circle.
The ancient nods as she joins the other two women. Her chestnut brown eyes change to lavender, her wrinkles skinny hand hovers over the blazing flame. “She will come to us.” Her gruff voice speaks out for everyone to hear.
The woman next to her with short curly hair and a long pointy nose holds a vase with three wavy lines. She frowns and shakes her head.” Come to us? Hardly, Jasabella. This woman is not like anything we expected."
Another woman glides across the ground. Her bare feet never touch as a gust of w
