[㍿] 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐆𝐄𝐓 𝐌𝐄 𝐍𝐎𝐓 *ೃ༄

𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘺 𝘣𝘦𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘴...

This story is dedicated to @OneArtsyGamer03 and 

I hope you guys like it!

Crickets chirping in the distance while the icy, cool breeze swept by through the trees. Two bronze colored hands holding two flint-like stones clash against each other, clanking together to create orange and yellow like sparks. Clank! One... Clank! Two... Clank! Three...

A tiny spark falls unto the piled sticks, the spark enlarging into a flame. The fire brightens among the dark place, illuminating a figure as he places the rocks down. His eyes lighten up as he waves and moves his hands around, his voice gruff-like and strong. 

He begins to speak, telling his tale. 

This is a story from long ago...

He stands up, a brown small bowl held in his left hand.

When the great mammoths still roamed our lands.

The old man still spoke in foreign tongues, his right hand dipped in a bowl full dark brown paint. His thumb produced the head of four figures, his index finger drawing the bodies of them, then the hands and feet.

It's the story of my two brothers, a girl, and me.

The man finishes the drawing, his body turns as he faces the front of his tribe. The people leaning in as they listen closely. The children giggling as they quietly play with each other. The stop as they came to listen, sitting near their parents as they cross their legs.

When the four of us were young, we were taught that the world was full of magic.

The man proceeded to speak in his native language, expressing his story as the people listened.

The man turns to show the mountain that was drawn on the wall, the scene changing as it turns into the living image. 

The source of the magic is the ever-changing lights, that dance across the sky.

The northern lights move as they freely flow in the air, moving back and forth as the colors were yellow and orange, and a small hint of light-green.

The physique of an old woman moves forward as it carries a stick in their right hand. The woman removes her hooded cloth, revealing her content smile and her sharp, kind eyes. Her hair braided and the color is white as snow. 

The shaman woman of our village told us that these lights are the spirits of our ancestors...

She walks further up as she stares at the spirited animals that fly, walk, and run across the lights.

And that they have the power to make changes in our world.

The wolves howling, the mammoths marching, the eagle souring across the dark, nightly sky. The star twinkling as they glow.