Beings of Light & Tribe People

Prologue

© 2014 Nanshanapa Shequinah. All rights reserved

 (the title is temporary(until I find better)

 ***

 PROLOGUE

Gabriel felt her presence like a chill in his back. He lifted his head and saw her walk past him with her usual just-above-the-shoulder blades Indian hat. It was the first noticeable thing about her and from there, amazement didn’t seize. Her cat-like walk had once made him wonder if she was a Shapeshifter, but after he’d had asked around, he’d learned that she was a Shaman.

Heart-shaped waist to bottom, she had very long and wild raven hair. Tribal tattoos ran her entire left arm with colorful ink hiding her dark olive skin tone. She had another tattoo on her nape written in a foreign language he couldn’t make out and that was saying something since he knew about five different languages.

She walked all the way to the table on the far end of the cafeteria where she hung with a crowd of Necromancers, Healers, Shamans, witches and Shapeshifters. In the entire cafeteria, her friends always made the most noise. Sitting in groups of 12, they occupied at least five tables and on the fifth table, there only were six of them, including her.

Sitting right in the middle of her friends, she listened to what they were saying and after a while, she shook her head, barely smiling while they all laughed around her. She said something, probably adding to the joke they were making and they laughed louder, apparently making fun of one of them who howled like a wolf to shove them off.

“Animals,” he heard a Fae groan with disapproval while the creature walked past Gabriel and his friends’ table, leaving a trail of moon glitters behind him.

Faeries sat the closest to Gabriel’s people; they had some weird conception of what they were supposed to mean to each other; while Beings of Light, Gabriel’s people, considered Faeries to be the worst of the darkest creatures, Faeries seemed to consider Beings of Lights to be the closest thing to them.

Gabriel smiled when he looked back at the Shaman woman and their gaze locked.

She arched an eyebrow, holding his stare for another second before she looked away.

                                                                                ***

The sky was pitch-black. No stars, no moon. Blythe was lying down on the bench near the sidewalk, on the grass. She was humming, watching the dark sky.

“So it’s true what they say.”

Her heart jumped but she stayed still, only turning her head to the left, toward the voice. A man was there, leaning against a tree, two meters from her. She knew him from school. He looked like perfection; scary perfection. There were ten like him at school and they were all the same: cold, noble-like, awe-inspiring.

But she remembered him because he was different. He had facial expressions, warmth.

“What do they say that is true?” she asked.

“That Shamans are considered homeless,” he grinned and she frowned, shifting to sit and look at him better.

“Gabriel, right?”

His breathtaking smile broadened. “Right.”

“You’re not supposed to speak to me.”

He shrugged. “I’m supposed to be asleep,” he said. “Do you suppose I’ll get my ass kicked for it?”