Celestial Roots

Chapter 23 - A well deserved rest

Taghna took the empty bowl and walked out of the room. The day was coming to an end and there was a lot of activity in the main room. Lively discussions could be heard around the imposing fireplace that dominated the room. Stools were placed all around the hearth, inviting people and friends to sit down and enjoy the warmth.

Taghna realised the strange relationship that the muïréal had towards fire. The village was organized around its presence, neither human nor animal, but equally important. The flames, which could be seen through the many holes drilled in the base of the chimney, purred like a satisfied beast.

Among the muïréal, the flames seemed to be an integral part of the village. In Séaroën, the fireplace was considered from a purely practical point of view. All along the Hir, it was used to light and heat the houses. Most often, it remained only in the form of glowing embers that adults would rekindle with a powerful blow and a handful of twigs to heat the meal.

The houses of Séaroën were dark. Their nooks and crannies, plunged into darkness, were a source of mystery but also, to the children full of imagination, of danger. With courage and stubbornness, Taghna had made it a point of honor to brave the perils, to pierce the darkness that took on an almost physical presence.

When the Hir came to an end, the only fire left in the village was the one around which the children gathered every night. The children had tacitly agreed that it was their responsibility to keep the fire burning. The adults dispersed wherever they wanted to go without bothering to stay warm by the flames, since they didn't need it after receiving Lorgá's gift anyways.

Around the muïréal's hearth, a group was devoted to the preparation of the meal. Under the watchful eye of a handful of muïréal, pieces of white meat were grilled over open flames, large roots were cooked under blazing embers, their tips pointing upwards like flowering shoots. These dishes smelled good and made the mouth water.

Other people came and went from one end of the muïréal's mataïg to the other, their activities regulated like a dance that was repeated over and over again. Their arms were loaded with kitchen utensils, baskets filled with furs, pieces of bone and all kinds of tools that they stored in small annexes not far from the entrance.

The muïréal mixed and divided the tasks equally among themselves. They lived together, and Taghna marvelled at the mutual help that reigned as the men and women, coming from different villages, would've fought to take advantage of resources under other circumstances.

There, a woman from Abtuï, with extremely pale, almost translucent skin, was helping a woman from Brichnern. Taghna recognized the specific marks on her face and arms. She couldn't identify all the individuals, but she could easily recognize their familiar marks.

Taghna felt guilty about being on her guard, but she couldn't help it. From her earliest childhood, these men and women were nothing more than archféar, strangers, enemies to be wary of. She looked at the different peoples with a little fear and disgust.

What she discovered in the muïréal rejoiced her. The village seemed like an ideal place, where everyone was free to live according to their means. Such an outpouring of feelings left Taghna baffled. She didn't know what to make of it. Séarrub noticed her hesitation and came to meet her:

- Can I help you? Here, give me that, she said, taking Taghna's bowl.

As Taghna hadn't made a move and looked her straight in the eyes with a distant gaze, the woman added:

- If you prefer to stay with your friend, we'll understand. All those who come here take a little time to find their bearings.

- No, no. Let's go, Taghna finally answered.