Ch1 - Echoes of Her Mother's Dream

 #Echoes of Her Mother's Dream

A voice once heard through winds of ancient flame.
Still echoes where her mother’s dreams do roam,
She walks alone, yet far away from home.
The Earth is cracked, yet she accepts the blame.

Her eyes recalls the sky her mother knew,
A memory drawn in tears that slowly dried.
For the tribe or a love she must decide.
One path must lift her heart to rise anew.

He holds her hand, but feels the grief inside,
No tender vow can halt the sacred call.
She longs to stay, but knows the night must fall.
The rain she is, she must again be dried.

To love, then lose, then rise through ash and flame.
A soul given for all to whisper her name.

Ch1 - Whispering Rock

 #Whispering Rock

The valley floor was still, the morning dew undisturbed, a shimmering blanket under the faint pre-dawn light. A young girl stirred in her sleep, then awoke with a gasp, her eyes wide with the lingering echoes of a vivid dream. She turned to her mother, her voice hushed with wonder and a touch of awe.

"Mama," she began, "I was in a vast basin valley, much like ours, but a heavy mist veiled everything. Then, fiery flies, glowing like embers, swarmed around me, and suddenly I was on a mountaintop. From there, I could see for miles! A majestic red eagle appeared, circling high above. As it soared, images of our ancestors shimmered in the air behind it. I knew then that this eagle was us – who we have been, and who we are destined to become."

Her voice softened, taking on a more distant quality. "Then, I became another person. I didn't know her, but her face was hidden by the wind, silent and veiled. Yet, I felt a connection so profound, as if I had known her my entire life."

The girl's eyes brightened with renewed intensity. "The earth trembled, and this person now held a sword. It wasn't for violence. I felt it was a symbol of immense power, of a great decision to come. The red eagle landed on her shoulder, and her voice, gentle as a breeze, whispered, 'In the light of the growing shadow, one will rise who must stand still to save the tribe. She will give of herself so that all may thrive. When the time comes, she will walk with another, unknown to her, and they will share in a fate yet unseen.'"

"The dream shifted again, Mama. A great storm gathered in the distance, a looming danger. Then, everything blurred, and I was back on the mountain's edge, the vision slowly fading, leaving only echoes of that person's presence."

Many years have passed since that first vision, its true meaning a mystery then. But countless others followed, and the girl, now known as Whispering Rock, became renowned not only as a gifted healer of the body, but also as a profound guide for the soul's journey.

Ch1 - Morning Star

#Morning Star - Utahna

 Whispering Rock had wed the chief of the tribe, and together they were blessed with a daughter named Morning Star. Within her family, she is lovingly called Utahna. Much like her mother, Utahna has followed the sacred path of healing. Even beyond this she has surpassed her mother’s skill, becoming renowned for her mastery of the healing arts.

We find her now in the midst of a healing ceremony, tending to a sick child. Just as she prepares to begin, others quietly enter the space. She senses their presence, noting one figure in particular—but remains undisturbed. Her focus does not waver. With calm composure, Utahna begins to sing the healing hymn, the sacred words meant to awaken the power of the medicine and call upon the Great Spirit for aid.

Trained with care and precision by Whispering Rock, Utahna moves with confidence and grace, every motion deliberate, every word a thread in the tapestry of the ritual. Her voice, steady and clear, drifts through the room like a breeze through tall grass:

Little root, little flame,
Sleep now warm, breath is tame.
Fever go, breeze come near,
I sing away the aching fear.
Leaf and smoke, breath and pine,
Let the cedar draw the line.
Spirits kind, be still, be near,
Guard this child and hold them here.
I crush the mint, I boil the bark,
The sickness flees where the herbs embark.
Little hands, touch the sky,
You will run before you cry.
Mother earth, lend your ground,
Let the root and bark surround.
Sleep now, child, strong and deep,
The mountain watches. You may sleep.

As the final notes of her chant fade into the air, a hush settles over the space. The child’s breathing slows, growing soft and steady. Rest returns, and peace follows.

All those present exchange quiet glances of awe. Princess Utahna has performed the ceremony with unwavering devotion. It is clear to all that she pours her whole being into the care of others, into every act of healing she brings forth.