Spirit Storm

Part I

Sage stared out to her village, milking her largest mother goat.  Miri, the goat, closed her eyes and rested into Sage’s hands, her warm belly rumbling lowly.  Sage moved her hands around expertly, and she swore she felt Miri purr.  Sage exhaled deeply as a cool mid-March wind swept by, rustling the strands of hair that escaped her braid.  Small blossoms of marigolds scattered the ground, signaling the beginning of spring.  A small smile spread across Sage’s lips as she saw blue birds returning from the cold winter.  The sun was just above the other taller mountains and it shone on the snow that still hadn’t melted.  Mount Elk, the mountain Sage lived on, was one of the lowest mountains of the region, just hovering on the border line of mountain and hill, and had only one village, which was where she lived.

The tranquility of the morning was disrupted not long after.  The loud, ringing sound of the village bell made Sage snap out of her morning reverie.  The village bell was rarely rung—you’d be lucky to hear it once a year—and it was a sign that something big was going to happen.  Even Miri seemed to be on alert.  Sage quickly stood up and brushed the dirt off her skirt.  She pushed Miri into her small fenced pent.  Miri wouldn’t oblige though, as she fought to stay outside.  Sage continued pushing, and once Miri was finally completely inside, she slammed the door shut and locked it.  

She went inside her tiny house, just in case something was wrong—or right—with her mother.  She peered inside, but her mother was completely still, just as she had been as she left her a few minutes ago, just as she had been for nearly two months now.  The IV drip that Sage got specially brought from the city was connected to her arm.  Sage didn’t know what to feel, relieved or disappointed, but she didn’t have much time to think about it.  She silently closed the door, though she did not really know why she was being silent, and started running out to the village center.

Her boot-clad feet padded on the hard earth, her long, braided hair hitting against her back as if keeping pace of her running.  Sage breathed in the fresh, mountain air, and looked around the village to see that it was completely deserted.  Sage picked up her pace, rushing to the village center where everyone was already at.

She made it just in time.  She slipped into her usual place, next to her best friend Ethan, who was watching her with relief.

“What took you so long?” He whispered, as Elbert, the village head, stood up to walk in front of the campfire.  The village center, as everyone on Mount Elk called it, was a huge, circular patch of grassy land with long benches centering the camp fire.  As you might have guessed, the village center, or the campfire, for that matter, was located smack dab in the middle of the village.  Every village-wide meeting was held in the village center, and everyone in Sage’s village was squished into the seats.

“Miri put up quite a fight.” Sage whispered back.  Elbert raised his arms and immediately everyone in the village center fell silent.  That, Sage thought, is a talent.  She noticed that next to Elbert, the town oracle, Amarie, was sitting with wide, frantic eyes.  She was shaking, not because of her old age, but rather because of something Sage had never seen before. Fear.  But what was there to fear? 

“Everyone,” the booming voice of Elbert echoed around the wide field, “thank you for coming around so quickly at such short notice.”   

All eyes were on Elbert.  Even through the excitement, Sage wondered why he didn’t become nervous under the intent stares. 

“Our village oracle has seen something.  Something bigger and more dangerous than anything we’ve seen before.”  Sage was starting to get impatient.  Elbert was wise, but also very dramatic.  She wished he would hurry up and deliver the message of whatever big and dangerous thing that everyone ought to know of.