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A Legend of the Before People, of Atelani, the First Female Chief

Countless tiny stars twinkled through the forest canopy overhead. A soft breeze rustled the leaves as myriad forest creatures sang their night songs. Nocturnal blossoms filled the air with subtle perfumes. No ghosts wept amidst the ruins; no evil spirits stalked in darkness. It was as blissful an evening as anyone could wish for.

Atelani had carefully banked the fire; with the gods’ help, there would be live coals for tomorrow morning’s breakfast. Thankfully, the days had been dry. But once the cooking place was completed there would be little to fear. A well-built cooking place would provide a lasting home for Brother Fire even in driving rain.

Oye, but the ouataki would need a rain-proof home, too! Atelani’s thoughts turned to the construction of some kind of shelter. Sleeping under the stars was well and good, but when the Cloud People poured out their buckets and the earth turned to muck, there would be no sleep at all. The wet season was not so far off, and something would have to be done soon.

Tools. They would need more tools. Another visit to Taouaru was in order. If Atelani could put axes into the hands of Elahu and Kataku, they could start work on a simple lodge of some kind. She and Ala could make twine and plait floor coverings. And Kohu…

“Ehe, daughter!” the shaman greeted Atelani. “This one sleeps fitfully in his old age, but you should be dreaming with the others. Do you not feel the peace in the forest this night?”

“There is so much to do, Father. We must plan for the coming rains. We must make a proper house. We need tools. For building… for cultivating…”

Kohu patted Atelani’s arm. “Everything in its time, Tanaoua.”

Atelani stopped short. The word Kohu used had never been uttered before, but its meaning was clear. Tanaoua. Chief-Woman.

“I am only a village doe,” Atelani replied matter-of-factly.

“With the heart of a chief,” Kohu completed the sentence.

“But…” she started to protest.

Kohu held up a hand. “Atelani. You have faced mighty trials; you have led in humility, and you have provided for us all. As a true chief should. Now there is only one more thing you must do.”

In spite of herself, Atelani was curious. “What is this thing, Father?” she asked.

“You must learn to rest.” And with that, Kohu turned away.

Atelani sat herself down. So much had happened. So much had yet to happen. So much needed to happen. Rest was a luxury for fools. Sleep might come, but it was a thing to fight, a thief of time and a harbinger of nightmares.

As Atelani thought these things, she caught the faint susurration of water on stone. Aya! The brook never rested. She would listen and take counsel from its words.

“Shhh” it seemed to say. Endlessly. As she pondered this wisdom, Atelani drifted into a dreamless slumber, the best she had since her ordeal began.

-- Finis --

Description

A Legend of the Before People, of Atelani, the First Female Chief

Countless tiny stars twinkled through the forest canopy overhead. A soft breeze rustled the leaves as myriad forest creatures sang their night songs. Nocturnal blossoms filled the air with subtle perfumes. No ghosts wept amidst the ruins; no evil spirits stalked in darkness. It was as blissful an evening as anyone could wish for.

Atelani had carefully banked the fire; with the gods’ help, there would be live coals for tomorrow morning’s breakfast. Thankfully, the days had been dry. But once the cooking place was completed there would be little to fear. A well-built cooking place would provide a lasting home for Brother Fire even in driving rain.

Oye, but the ouataki would need a rain-proof home, too! Atelani’s thoughts turned to the construction of some kind of shelter. Sleeping under the stars was well and good, but when the Cloud People poured out their buckets and the earth turned to muck, there would be no sleep at all. The wet season was not so far off, and something would have to be done soon.

Tools. They would need more tools. Another visit to Taouaru was in order. If Atelani could put axes into the hands of Elahu and Kataku, they could start work on a simple lodge of some kind. She and Ala could make twine and plait floor coverings. And Kohu…

“Ehe, daughter!” the shaman greeted Atelani. “This one sleeps fitfully in his old age, but you should be dreaming with the others. Do you not feel the peace in the forest this night?”

“There is so much to do, Father. We must plan for the coming rains. We must make a proper house. We need tools. For building… for cultivating…”

Kohu patted Atelani’s arm. “Everything in its time, Tanaoua.”

Atelani stopped short. The word Kohu used had never been uttered before, but its meaning was clear. Tanaoua. Chief-Woman.

“I am only a village doe,” Atelani replied matter-of-factly.

“With the heart of a chief,” Kohu completed the sentence.

“But…” she started to protest.

Kohu held up a hand. “Atelani. You have faced mighty trials; you have led in humility, and you have provided for us all. As a true chief should. Now there is only one more thing you must do.”

In spite of herself, Atelani was curious. “What is this thing, Father?” she asked.

“You must learn to rest.” And with that, Kohu turned away.

Atelani sat herself down. So much had happened. So much had yet to happen. So much needed to happen. Rest was a luxury for fools. Sleep might come, but it was a thing to fight, a thief of time and a harbinger of nightmares.

As Atelani thought these things, she caught the faint susurration of water on stone. Aya! The brook never rested. She would listen and take counsel from its words.

“Shhh” it seemed to say. Endlessly. As she pondered this wisdom, Atelani drifted into a dreamless slumber, the best she had since her ordeal began.

-- Finis --