The Primeval Era-Chapter 81: Umoya! II

Serala approached the central group with measured steps, uncertain of her place in this gathering. She was a guest. An outsider. Someone who had been told to blend in but had no idea how to actually accomplish that among people whose lives were so different from her own.

Before she could decide where to position herself, Grandmother Essun looked up from her meat.

Her yellow teeth showed in a grin.

"Girl!"

She stood up with speed that shouldn’t have been possible for someone so bent and ancient, her gnarled hand reaching out to grasp Serala’s wrist before she could retreat.

"Come, come!"

The wise woman pulled Serala toward the central stone with surprising strength, maneuvering her around seated figures until she stood directly beside where Damian sat.

Then Grandmother Essun stepped aside.

And pushed Serala down into the spot she had just vacated.

Right beside Damian.

"You must eat with the rest of us if you really want to fit in!"

Her voice carried enough that others nearby could hear.

"Sitting alone in your hut while we feast? That’s not how things work in the Purple Stone Tribe..."

Serala found herself seated before she could protest, her hip nearly touching Damian’s, her wing-shaped eyes blinking with surprise at the sudden relocation.

She looked at him.

He was already looking at her calmly.

She nodded lightly.

"Hello."

He glanced at her and nodded back.

No words.

Just acknowledgment.

Then he returned his attention to the food before them as if this was the single most important thing at this moment, barring absolutely anything else!

Grandmother Essun didn’t sit back down. Instead, she straightened her bent spine as much as her aged body would allow and looked around the tribe near the bonfire.

The clamor of conversation dimmed slightly as people noticed the wise woman preparing to speak.

"Today, we have a feast!"

Her voice carried across the gathering with strength that her frail form shouldn’t possess.

"Our tribe has been blessed with the Great Tokoloshe who will walk the path of the Ancestors and lead us to glory! He has returned from the realm of spirits to protect us, and already he has destroyed those who would harm our people!"

Cheers erupted from the crowd.

"So eat to your heart’s content!"

She raised her gnarled staff.

"And dance! Dance! DANCE!"

The drummers struck their instruments with renewed vigor. The dancers in the Umoya circle spun faster. The clamor of conversation and celebration rose to new heights as Tribesmen lifted pieces of meat and shouted praise to the Ancestors and the Tokoloshe alike.

Damian and Uncle Adam were not fully used to this so...

They simply began to eat.

And the way they ate...

Serala watched with hidden shock as those surrounding the large stone tray reached in with their hands, scooping rice and meat from the same plate with fingers that had probably not been washed since the morning’s labor. They ate together, their hands sometimes brushing against each other as they reached for choice pieces, their portions coming from the same pile that everyone else was taking from.

It was a surreal thing to see.

In the Covenant of the First Stone, Serala had been provided meals to enjoy alone.

Guards stood around her as she ate from plates that had been prepared specifically for her consumption. No one else touched her food. No one else shared her table. Even her master, the Saint of Stone, ate separately when they took meals together, each with their own portion and their own utensils as only on special occasions did they all sit together.

But to eat with others like this with everyone reaching into the same plate?

Their hands mixing together as they took sustenance from a common source?

She hesitated.

Her hands stayed in her lap.

Her wing-shaped pupils watched the others eat with an expression that mixed fascination with uncertainty.

Damian noticed.

He looked at her hesitation, and something flickered across his face. He shook his head slightly.

Serala did not know, but he had been in the same position as her not too long ago.

He remembered his own arrival at this tribe a few summers ago. His own shock at customs so different from what he had known in the Vakochev Empire. His own struggle to set aside the manners that had been drilled into him since birth.

But now?

Now he was a proper Dross!

He reached into the tray and scooped a handful of rice and meat with practiced ease, bringing it to his mouth without ceremony or hesitation.

Grandmother Essun had circled back around to stand behind Serala, and she noticed the girl’s reluctance.

Her yellow teeth showed again.

"Ah, I see."

Her voice was scratchy and shrewd.

"You’re not used to eating like this, are you? Wherever you come from, I imagine you had your own plate. Your own portion. Walls between you and everyone else even when you broke bread."

She leaned down, her ancient breath warm against Serala’s ear.

"But here in these Lands of Stone, we know something that the mighty often forget. When we eat from the same plate, we are saying that what nourishes one nourishes all. That the strength you gain is the strength of the tribe. That there are no walls between us when it comes to survival."

Her gnarled hand rested briefly on Serala’s shoulder.

"To refuse the shared plate is to say you are separate. Above. Apart."

Her voice dropped lower.

"But you are not from that place where you sit above everyone, right? You are here. And here, we survive together or we die alone."

...!

Serala listened to these words with her calm expression never wavering.

But something shifted in her eyes.

She looked at the stone tray piled with rice and meat.

She looked at the hands reaching in around her.

She looked at Damian, who was eating without concern, his dark blue eyes watching the dancers rather than her.

And with no more hesitation, the Holy Daughter of Stone reached forward.

Her fingers touched the warm rice.

She scooped a portion into her hand.

She brought it to her lips.

And she ate!

The moment she did, cheers broke out around them!

"The new girl eats with us!"

"Welcome to the tribe!"

"More meat! She needs more meat!"

Laughter and celebration erupted as Tribesmen nearby raised their portions in salute to the beautiful stranger who had finally joined their feast properly. The drummers beat faster. The dancers spun with renewed energy. Even Grandmother Essun cackled with satisfaction as she hobbled off to harass someone else.

Serala found herself calmly smiling despite everything.

The rice was good and the meat was tender.

And there was something about eating with others, about being part of something larger than herself, that filled a hunger she hadn’t known she carried.

Around her, the Purple Stone Tribe celebrated their survival and their strange Tokoloshe.

The bonfire burned bright against the darkness.

The Umoya dancers pulled Mana from the earth with every stamping foot.

Children laughed and ran and played without fear.

And for this one night, there was harmony.

There was peace.

There was belonging.

None of them... knew what was coming!

None of them knew that Blood would bathe the Lands of Stone like a viscous sea!