in tenebris est veritas.
Chaele does not skip a beat. As soon as it seems the fire will persist, they drag the triangular spit toward the skinned animal and begin to remove the hind legs. “My home is everywhere,” they explain, hanging the meat onto the wooden apparatus. “This is a temporary camp, as they all are. I live as one with the land, which is not a single place. In a few days, I will have spent my welcome and I will move elsewhere.”
The evening has all but begun now, the yellow light of a sinking sun elongating the shadows of the trees. The shaman tilts their head in appraisal of the other woman, noting her discomfort and curiosity and embarrassment. Each is a symptom of something deeper, something that Chaele recognizes in her own past: the keen awareness of one’s own fragility, the quiet hunger for strength and purpose, the desire to belong to something greater. Perhaps they have made a mirror out of this pathetic creature where there are only illusions and weakness. Or perhaps this is what it is to see promise.
“We will feast on a fatty shank tonight, but most will be dried and used as rations... so you will not have to eat any more maggots for a while.” There is a small stretch of a grin in their voice, almost teasing, as they strip the carcass to its bones and innards. Gesturing to the referenced pieces, they continue, “We will make you a waterskin out of the bladder. The eyes and kidneys will enrich a stew. The heart and lungs will make good bait for a trap. And the bones and intestines can be used for divination.”
Then they stand, wrapping their hands around the poles of the now weighted spit. “Help me move this over the fire.”
The evening has all but begun now, the yellow light of a sinking sun elongating the shadows of the trees. The shaman tilts their head in appraisal of the other woman, noting her discomfort and curiosity and embarrassment. Each is a symptom of something deeper, something that Chaele recognizes in her own past: the keen awareness of one’s own fragility, the quiet hunger for strength and purpose, the desire to belong to something greater. Perhaps they have made a mirror out of this pathetic creature where there are only illusions and weakness. Or perhaps this is what it is to see promise.
“We will feast on a fatty shank tonight, but most will be dried and used as rations... so you will not have to eat any more maggots for a while.” There is a small stretch of a grin in their voice, almost teasing, as they strip the carcass to its bones and innards. Gesturing to the referenced pieces, they continue, “We will make you a waterskin out of the bladder. The eyes and kidneys will enrich a stew. The heart and lungs will make good bait for a trap. And the bones and intestines can be used for divination.”
Then they stand, wrapping their hands around the poles of the now weighted spit. “Help me move this over the fire.”
