Milyi dashed through the village on two, swift brown feet. The tents blurred around her, a stream of soft colors against the green of the surrounding forest. Her heart beat a steady rhythm, matching her quick steps. She raced through the dirt clearing in the center of the dwellings, passed the central cooking fire, and scattered the little groups of chickens that gathered for their morning feed.
She was late again, despite her best efforts to avoid it. Her long hair, half braided and half loose, swung against her shoulders in a dark mass. Milyi imagined what her grandmother would say if she was reprimanded again, cringed, and increased her pace. Her lungs burned by the time she skittered to a stop in the next clearing.
Teacher’s eyes fixed on her, eyebrows raised at her unfinished hair. The other students gathered in a small circle around the taller woman, and a chorus of giggles met Milyi's arrival.
“Late again, Milyi?” Teacher’s voice held scorn. Her palms rested on her hips, and she added a disapproving tut.
Milyi cringed again and hung her head. Don’t make it worse, don’t say anything.
“Well,” Teacher motioned her forward, “move it.”
Milyi sighed and scuttled to join the others. She'd earned no lecture today, would not have to face her grandmother with fresh gossip on the wind.
The class had seven students, four girls and three boys. All of them wore the traditional short blouses and flowing skirts that marked them as dancers in training. Their feet remained bare and their hair had been carefully plaited. Milyi joined their circle, smoothing her rumpled skirt and flipping her unkempt tresses back over her shoulders.
Teacher turned to the pair of drums which waited beside her and began to tap out the rhythm they'd been learning. In unison, the students moved their feet, turned and mimed the steps to the newest dance.
Milyi focused as hard as she could on the motions. It was a simple routine, and it bored her, but she loved the hollow sound of the drums, and she felt the beat pull at her and call her to move. Her mind drifted and her feet continued automatically to answer the sounds bellowing from under Teacher’s swift palms.
She hadn't begun as a dancer. Grandmother had insisted she study something practical. To both their dismay, Milyi’s practical skills were not something to be admired. She had failed miserably to cook anything edible, had become distracted and allowed several of the village chickens to wander so far into the forest that it took days to round them up again, and had been asked never to return to weaving class after only one session. Grandmother made her do double chores that night, informed her she was a disgrace through deliberate tears, and cried out to the gods for another child like Milyi's older sister, Maya, a wonderful cook, who had married a man from a neighboring tribe and now had three children of her own.
The very next morning, Milyi had begun taking dancing classes.
She came back from her thoughts just in time to stop flawlessly with the rest of the class. She danced well. The movements came easily to her, and she was always the first to memorize a new routine, but lately she fought against constant distraction. The routines seemed too simple, and they quickly bored her.
She tried to focus when they began again. This routine had a basic rhythm, one that Milyi had already mastered. Now she moved through the motions automatically, felt the music nearly before it was played, and found herself longing to make it more intricate. The beats pulled at her, suggesting something complex and exciting, and Milyi's body yearned to go deeper into the rhythm.
“Milyi!” Teachers shout came from way too close.
She jumped awake, found her instructor standing over her. “What are you doing?”
