Merania

She was born the day the sun was covered with a ball of darkness

The tribesmen used to call this mysterious happening the blood of the sun

It’s bleeding signifying a foreseen greatness within the clan, an ancient prophecy

It said a woman with the sky people’s blood, with marks of nature’s carvings on her back, a wind symbol, will give birth to this child, an old soul becoming of flesh.

The puzzle pieces laid before them could not fit, ‘this is a girl child’ they said. This could not be.

But the gods had willed this, a girl child is the life giver after all.

Course long hair covered her head. She was the last of her kind. An aquarius, the one who can speak with the wind

Her eyes became the colour of the water spirit goddess Meran, at the age of five, the colour of perennial rain

The name she was given was Merania, the wind goddess, the name now owned her

Her hair would sing when she was the happiest, the healer’s trail as they called it, marked her as the one who could save her people from being annihilated.

When she was seven, which in their numerology symbolised perfect growth, they took her to the forest where her feet had to meet with the wilderness, to fuse with her spirit and ground her fragility, she needed to remember  how to use her gifts, and the mother giver, nature, the earth womb, would teach her within the silence.

She spent 60days with what felt like her real family, speaking with other worlds masked as trees and flowers. She knew this is where she would build her home

This was a time when foreign men would kill people for land, she had to be the barrier, she had to speak with the wind to offer protection for her people

She would summon ancestors, ten feet spirits that could manifest physically, to scare the foreign men away, their metal sticks had no magick, her hands did. They could not penetrate the seal of love she had blanketed her tribe with. This seal was considered the strongest

In the dawn of what was supposed to be their winter equinox , the wind told her it was getting heavy because of the cold, so it would not be able to protect them as it has did before

The foreign men had found an entrance that was much further from the forest, she could smell the blood from her vision, innocent blood

Her hair began singing a very painful song, the one that was written on the stones, by the ancestors who had come across the same fate

The people of her tribe heard it, they were ready for what was coming, their bodies were of no meaning now, their souls knew where they were going

The smell of copper bullets raided them, smoke, blood, fused. Spears and arrows piercing hearts, it was war. Merania was having a spiritual one, her tears had become bullets to the ground

The wind whispered ‘it is done, child, become the air that has made you’

She fought harder, conjuring a wind storm killing hundreds of men at once.  The earth stood still when she opened her eyes, seeing a massacre of both her people and these men she regarded having wounded souls to have committed such a deed.

The household that included her mother, which had twenty people inside, was the only legacy left of their tribe, the Watchers.

Even with most dead, they knew they would see them in blossoming flowers, on fields sprouting of fresh grass, even on the rays of the morning sun

Their tribe was selfless, the love they had for each other, was stronger than death itself