Saera awoke to the sound of a rooster in the courtyard, enthusiastically alerting all at the temple holding to the appearance of the sun.  The sound of banging pots, and Cook calling loudly for more wood, discouraged her from rolling over and drifting back into her dreams. 

She lay back in the bed.  Today she would not leap up and race for the breakfast table as she usually did.  With the setting of the sun the night before, Saera was required to fast.  Being near the kitchens or dining hall would be nothing but torture when she couldn't enjoy the heavy bread, smothered with fresh, amber, honey that would dribble down her chin.  Or to savor the sweet cream from the holding's dairy, with the season's fruit floating in it.

Her stomach growled in response to her thoughts, and she felt a pang of guilt. Today she should have her mind on more important things, like her Passage Ceremony.  Soon, she would be initiated into the mysteries of womanhood!  Saera had lived all her life surrounded by the women of the Temple.  Many of the girls there, including her closest friend A'lisha, had come when they were six or seven years old.  When the traveling priestesses of the Temple of the Goddess came to a village for a choosing, most families considered it an honor to have their daughters chosen to go to the Temple.  Even though it meant they would never see them again (unless they themselves came to choose), the blessings they would receive from the Goddess were considered worth the sacrifices of their daughters.   Occasionally the parents would protest, in which case the child was left, with the understanding that she could come to the temple when she was old enough to decide for herself.  Saera, however, was born at the Temple.  Her mother had been a priestess, who had met her father and spent a brief time with him while on a choosing mission.  Even though Saera had no idea which of the priestesses had birthed her, or who the man was who sired her, she was so well mothered by all the women of the Temple that she never felt a lack of parentage. 

She stretched and thrilled to the feel of the sheets against her nakedness.  For most of the last week, during the time of her moon-flow, she had been bound in robes and layers of padding.  When they were removed at sunset the day before, it felt like a great weight being lifted from her.  From that moment until the sunrise after her Passage Ceremony, she was forbidden to wear clothing.  She would come before the Goddess as an infant, devoid of clothing or body hair, like a newborn child.  To be re-born as a woman.

A clattering and whispering on the stairs brought Saera's thoughts back to the here and now.  Growing louder by the moment, the noise climaxed with a dozen women bursting into the room.  They laughed and chattered as they crowded through the doorway, with the head priestess, Mother Ama, in the rear . . . like a goose girl driving her flock. 

The twelve women in their flowing-white robes bore with them a copper tub, four feet wide and three deep.  They began filling it efficiently with the buckets of water being hauled up the stairs by a line of giggling girls.    One of the girls carrying water for the tub was A'lisha, her closest friend and confidant.  They had been roommates since their tenth year, when they had been moved four years ago from the communal dormitory that all the girls occupied until they reached pre- initiate status.  They had been closer than sisters, both hoping that when their moon- time came, they would begin together, so that neither would have to face initiation alone.  When Saera had found blood on her sheets a week ago, both girls rushed to check A'lisha's.  Faced with her linens, white as a goose-wing, both girls wept in sorrow.  Saera met the sad brown eyes of her friend, knowing that things may never be the same.  She might be well on her way in her new life as a woman before A'lisha was ever initiated. 

Her personal things had already been moved to her new rooms in the acolytes wing, and tomorrow she would be dressed in white robes, her dark-red hair braided with silver thread and left to hang down her back.  Saera looked longingly at the sky-blue robes that the girls wore, knowing that she would never again be allowed to wear them.   Never again to run with her hair flying free about her shoulders.  With the simple change of clothing and hair-style, her child- hood would be forever and irretrievably swept away.  When the tub was full of steaming water, Mother Ama instructed the girls to leave the remaining buckets for later rinsing, and to go on about their morning duties. 

As the door swung shut behind them, the head priestess turned and surveyed her newest initiate with a stern expression.  Saera huddled back in her bedding, trying to hold back her apprehension and a sudden rush of loneliness.  The women surrounded the tub, with the priestess standing behind it.  She looked Saera in the eye, and smiled.  This was the signal the women had been waiting for.  With a single whoop, they all surged forward to the bed.  Saera yelped in startled surprise as they threw the covers off the bed and swept her up.  They dropped her into the bath, still squirming, splashing water all over themselves, and most of the room. After removing their already wet robes, the twelve acolytes and Mother Ama dunked, lathered, and scrubbed Saera enthusiastically.   When her skin was rubbed into a rosy glow, Mother Ama had her stand.  Working quickly, but very carefully, she used a golden ceremonial razor to remove all of Saera's body hair. Today her body must be hairless, like the newborn she had once again become.  All that was left her was the fall of copper tresses, now sticking wetly to her back.   That done, she was rinsed with the buckets of cooling, herb scented water.  They enveloped her in soft, thick towels as she stepped to the floor.

After she had been thoroughly dried, they combed her hair and braided flowers, ribbons, and shells into the bright strands.  Prattling like mag- pies, they dried and dressed themselves, entwining leftover bits of flowers into their own braids.  The room took on a lively atmosphere, and Saera forgot her nervousness and joined in with the laughter and teasing.

When the women were clothed and ready, Mother Ama stepped to the door and opened it.  Saera was herded out and down the stairs.  The acolytes in their damp white robes surrounded her as they passed through the main hall, then they stepped through the heavy double-doors into the warm spring sunlight, pausing at the top of the step leading into the yard.

Assembled in  the courtyard were all the women of the temple, with the un-initiated girls making a border of sky-blue along the edges of the crowd.  Saera looked down on all of them clustered there, like snow-white tulips surrounded by forget-me-nots.  Mother Ama stepped forward, raising her arms to command everyone's attention. The morning sun turned the silver braids stacked atop her head into a gleaming crown. As the sleeves of her deep green robes fell back, her tanned arms were revealed, still muscular and firm despite her age.  Scanning the faces turned up to her in expectation, she held their eyes with her own. Saera knew how penetrating that fiery blue gaze couldbe, making anyone who met it feel as if their very souls were as transparent as glass before it.

The crowd stood silent, breathless in anticipation.  Lowering her arms, the Priestess addressed them in a clear voice:  "Today, we celebrate the womanhood of our sister, Saera.  She stands here before you in the glory of her new birth, naked, like the infant she has once again become.  Cleansed and purified without, now comes the ordeal through which she will be purified within.  To be filled by the Goddess, we must first be emptied.  In order to receive Her Spirit, we must make room for that Spirit to enter."

Pausing, she turned and gazed into Saera's eyes with a look of comfort and compassion, then continued;  "So, we must all face the death of our childhood, our beliefs, and even our very selves.  For only through death can we be reborn." 

With her next words, Mother Ama turned back to the gathered throng.  "Sisters, I ask that you go about your tasks today with many thoughts for Saera, who will need your good will to guide her through her journey beyond life into death, and beyond death into new life."

Turning to Saera, she dipped her fingers into the bowl of sacred oil one of the acolytes held for her.  Anointing Saera's breasts, she intoned, "Blessings of the Maiden be upon you," then her navel, "Blessings of the Mother be upon you," and, finally, her brow "Blessings of the Crone be upon you." 

All the witnesses replied as one,  "Blessings of the Goddess be upon you." 

Mother Ama waved her hands in dismissal, and the courtyard began to clear.  "Now, Saera, begins the ordeal of the Goddess.  You will begin your walk to the Temple.  I will be your guide on the path to womanhood.  Your sisters here will follow, to help in case you should falter." 

Looking around to make sure everyone was in line, she turned to the steps and commanded, "Come."

The Priestess led Saera and her entourage down the steps and across the courtyard.  Saera enjoyed the feel of the sun on her bare skin, and the tickle of the grass against the bottoms of her feet.  She breathed deep of the sweet air, and tried to still the trembling of her knees as they passed between the hedges at the end of the courtyard.  A shiver of anticipation and anxiety shook her, as she took the first step onto the path leading to the Temple.

They continued on between the buildings that housed the women of the Temple.  Unlike the dormitory that the girls occupied, these tended to be of a single story.  Like all the other structures in the Temple holding, though, they were made of the same white clay.  Smooth and cool in the summer heat, warm and cozy in the winter snows, with a wooden under-structure to make them strong. It didn't take long to reach the wall encircling the holding.  In the shadow of the towering bulwark, they began the circling path that would lead them to the Temple proper, where Saera would meet the Goddess.

As she followed along behind Mother Ama, Saera couldn't help wondering what was going to happen when she reached the end of the trail.  The only thing that was common knowledge among the pre-initiates about the passage ceremony was that there would be a meeting with the Goddess.   Whether this was a face-to-face meeting with the actual Divine Mother, or simply a metaphor for something altogether different, none of them knew. 

Caught up in her own musings, Saera didn't notice when the women behind her began to sing softly.  Gradually, though, their voices swelled into a complicated harmony that pulled her attention back to the moment.  She listened more closely as the acolytes added words to their tune. They sang a happy song about the joys and freedom of childhood, bringing back to Saera vivid images of her life leading up to this day.
 
 

      Her earliest memories were of the nursery.  Where a dozen or so daughters of the temple women were raised together.  Various acolytes and priestesses took their turn at tending the children, who ranged from infancy up to the age of five.  Saera and the other girls never knew which (if any) of the women were their mothers.  Since any of them could be called to serve at a distant village or another Temple at any time, it was thought best that no familial attachments were formed that might have to be broken later.

Saera was almost eight years old before she saw a male.  Having never seen one before, it had never occurred to her that they even existed, much less to wonder why there were none at the Temple. 

She was running an errand for one of her teachers, released early from classes to carry a message.  Her route took her near the Sunrise Gate, where the deliveries of goods from the nearby villages were brought in to the Temple Holding.  Pushing her way through the women loading and unloading carts inside the gate, a goat ran past her, with a cursing acolyte close behind.  Looking over her shoulder to watch as the bleating goat led the woman on a merry chase through the carts and oxen, she didn't see the solid form in front of her until she had run smack into it. 

Startled, she looked up with an apology on her lips, only to be stricken speechless by the sight before her.  Gazing down at her were a pair of caramel brown eyes,  eyes that crinkled at the corners to match the smile below it.  The strangest thing about this face though, was the bush of coarse brown and gray hair growing over the bottom half of it!  Saera drew breath for a scream.  All she could think was that this odd creature must be some kind of were-beast, like those in the spooky stories they whispered to each other in the dormitory at night.

Before the squeal of terror could escape her lips, one of the sisters intervened. "Seamus, is your cart ready to be unloaded?  We have others waiting in line, you know." 

With a small bow and another smile (like the baring of a wolf's teeth, Saera thought), the strange being turned away, following the sister into the crowd and out of sight.

Trembling with fright and relief, Saera moved on to deliver her message to Mother Ama.  When she found the priestess, she was still quite shaken.  Mother Ama took one look at her pale face and pushed her into a chair before her desk.  Going down on one knee, she took Saera's face between her hands and used her Goddess gift to discover what the problem was.  If she was ill, she would have to be sent to the nurses.  They would keep her apart from the other children, lest the sickness spread. 

Gazing into Saera's eyes, she probed deep into her being, searching for the cause of her distress.  Encountering the memories of the girl's recent shock, the Priestess sat back on her heels, and began to laugh.  Saera looked at the older woman in confusion, close to tears.  The sight of the normally staid and controlled woman in hysterical laughter on the floor was more than a little disconcerting. 

"What is it?  Please Mother, what did you see?" Saera pleaded in anguish.

The old woman finally got control of herself, her laughter subsiding into hiccupy little giggles.  She wiped the tears from her face with the back of one sleeve and took Saera in her arms  "I'm sorry child, I did not mean to frighten you like that, and you already scared half out of your wits!" 

Catching a deep breath, Mother Ama calmed herself at last and became serious - as serious as one can be sitting on the floor with hair half-falling about her ears and dusty robes tangled around her knees- "I can see that we need to expand our teachings to include more of the world outside the Temple!"

"What you saw, Saera, was a man.  You've heard, of course, of husbands and fathers?" giving her charge a direct look, she went on after receiving a nod in answer, "Well, husbands and fathers are men.  They are different than women in many ways, and yet still children of the Goddess, and very necessary."

Saera opened her mouth to speak, closed it, and opened it again "But, Mother......what was that, that hair all over the man's face?!"

She quivered in alarm when the Priestess appeared to be on the verge of laughter once again, then relaxed as she saw the other's effort to quell the response.

"Sweeting, that is one of the differences I was speaking of.  Men have a lot of hair.  Some of them have it all over their bodies, some only in the same places that women do, and all have hair on their faces." she paused as she considered just how deeply she wanted to get into this subject, then shrugged - she'd already come this far - "You know that babies are grown in the bellies of women, don't you?"

"Yes, Mother.  Sister Hendre is growing one, she let me feel it kicking!" Saera's face lit in pride and wonder.

"Well, women need men to put the seed in there so they can grow a baby.  There is a special tool, that only men have, that they use to plant the seed.  Like the tool that we use to plant the corn in the earth, so the Goddess can make it grow into more corn."

Understanding began dawning in Saera's eyes, and the Priestess rose with a sigh of relief.  She was not, yet off the hook, though.

"Why aren't there any men in the temple?  And if there are no men here, how do the sisters get seeds to grow babies?  Where did the seed to grow me come from?"  Now that she was no longer afraid, the questions fell fast and furious from Saera's childish lips. 

Mother Ama held up a hand to stop the flow. "Child, you are already long running your errand.  You should get back before we both get a scolding."  Taking the long-forgotten slip of paper from the girls hand, she shooed her out the door. 

"I'm sure your questions can wait until you get back to the dormitory.  Tell Sister Hendre that I want her to begin instruction on life in the villages immediately.  That is to include education about men, women, and babies."  Fixing Saera with a hard stare she asked her "Can you remember that?" and without waiting for an answer, she shoved her out the door and closed it behind her. 

With a start, Saera was brought back from her memories when the song changed tempo.  It became slower, and as the women dropped into a lower register,  the tune filled her with a sense of melancholy. 

The words spoke of flowers wilting in the summer sun, of streams fading to a trickle in the dry weather.  They sang of leaves dying and falling to the earth as the autumn chill sank into the bare bones of the trees. 

Feet shuffling along listlessly, Saera swallowed around the dry lump in her throat.  Tears burned at the back of her eyes, but she refused to let them flow.  She did not want the others to see tears and think she was not ready to be a woman.  So she lifted her head and trudged after the priestess, pretending that the sadness of the song had not touched her heart.

She began to block the melody and words out, and thought that she had succeeded in regaining her composure, until the music changed again. 

Sister Vaen, she of the dark skin and large eyes, dropped her voice as low as it was possible for a woman to do, and took up a dirge.  Her voice became the moaning wind of winter, complaining of the drudgery of adulthood, the fear and pain of childbirth.  As the other women wove whispering chants  around her voice,  she sang a lament about the wrinkles and aches of aging, the fading of beauty and strength, the inescapable specter of death.

By this time they were almost through the spiral, and Saera had lost all control over her emotions.  She cried in heaving sobs, in sorrow for the joys of life lost, in fear of the misery to come.  She could no longer see the green robes of Mother Ama before her, only the grim realities of life that reached out with skeleton hands and shook her to the core. Just as she was ready to give in to despair and lie down in the dust, a voice rose above the others in trembling tenderness. Saera's breath caught in her chest as eleven other voices joined in harmony with the first. 

They lifted Saera up with the burning of love and passion,  the wondrous stirrings of a young body, and the knowledge that spring would always follow winter.  It rose in a crescendo of triumph and wonder, the glow of life in the womb, the knowledge of what it meant to be a woman.

She brushed the tears from her eyes and listened with a lightened heart.  Her steps became stronger, more sure.  Mother Ama's robes became more than just fabric to her awakened sight.  They were the green of a living world, the beauty of a loving, nurturing Goddess.  She felt a bursting of joy in her heart as they approached the Temple, eager to meet whatever may await her within.

The Sister's song came to an end, and a hush descended on the group in the shadow of the Temple.  Even though she had been here many times in her life, Saera looked upon the Temple this day with a sense of awe. 

The white marble structure was almost covered by the ivy that grew up it's walls and entwined around the four massive columns across the front.  Overhanging the entire building from above were the branches of an immense oak tree, it's silvery round leaves sparkling like diamonds in the sun.  Delicate lavender and blue flowers bloomed in the ivy, giving off a sweet, clean scent.  Saera inhaled their perfume deeply as they ascended the steps.  Body and soul tingling with anticipation, she stepped through the opening into the cool darkness of the Temple.

She followed the priestess down the aisle to the front of the temple.  The granite floor was cold against her bare feet, and she shivered as they walked past the rows of benches that gleamed softly in the candlelight. Floor and benches alike were polished smooth by the feet and bodies of generations of women as they worshipped the living Goddess. 

They reached their goal, the Tree of Life.  The great oak tree was a solid, living presence,  whose leaves remained green throughout the seasons.  It soared over them, it's twisted branches supporting the roof of the Temple.  Reaching through a hole in the fifty-foot ceiling and at least another twenty feet above, it spread it's protection over the building like a mother hovering over her child.

Mother Ama stopped, raising her arms before the tree in a gesture of supplication, and intoned a prayer for admittance into it's heart.  "I bring today the girl Saera, who comes to meet the Goddess, and learn the secrets of becoming a woman.  She comes with the blessings of the Three, having walked the spiral path of life.  Will you admit her to the Inner Temple?"

Saera gazed in fascination as the Tree began to hum and vibrate with a pitch so low, it could only be felt, rather than heard.  It seemed that a static charge filled the room, caressing her body with little shocks, like standing too close to a lightening strike.  A wind began to swirl around the altar, tugging at the flowers and shells in her hair, and lifting the robes of the acolytes.  If it were any other time, she would have laughed at the sight of the women with their white gowns flying wildly around them, looking like a flock of birds about to take flight.

The wind and vibration seemed to reach a peak, and the tree began to glow, becoming brighter and brighter until Saera could see nothing but the dark outline of the Priestess against the light. 

"The door is open," intoned the Priestess, "follow me."  And she plunged into the blinding radiance of the tree and disappeared!

She stood stunned, unable to move as the other women passed one by one into the tree.  She was left standing with Sister Hendre, knees trembling at the thought of following the others.  When her remaining companion shoved her from behind, all she could do was let out one startled yelp as she stumbled and fell into the light.

Time ceased to exist, the light was no more.  She plunged into a darkness so absolute that she felt herself being absorbed by it, until she was not even sure if she even existed anymore. 

As Saera struggled to use senses she no longer retained, she became aware of voices.  Sounds not heard with her ears - if she even still had ears - but her soul, the whispering of millions of women.  Hands caressed her non-existent body, comforting and loving, and she somehow knew that she was passing through the souls of every woman who had ever come through this portal.  Suddenly, Sae-ra was through, expelled into the tree as if birthed from the womb.  She lay naked, wet, and shivering upon the floor.  The acolytes swooped down on her with blankets, swaddling her in their warmth like a new-born babe.
 
 

     The center of the tree was warm,  the walls smooth and glowing amber with a light that appeared to radiate from the tree itself.   The air was heavy with a dry, earthy scent Saera could not identify.  It was like a round room, a full 20 feet across, with an earthen floor between the massive roots that ran randomly across it, worn into little hollows by the feet of generations of women. 

A pallet had been lain in the center, snuggled between the roots like a bird's nest in the crook of a branch.  It was to this the women led her, gently laying her on the soft covers. From here, Saera could gaze up into the impenetrable darkness above, where the trunk of the tree towered over the  Temple.  Still dazed by her passage, it was several moments before Saera realized that she was alone,  save for the quiet form of Mother Ama kneeling beside her. 

"It is time, child." The Priestess absently brushed the strands of hair back from the girl's forehead as she spoke. 

"Time for what, Mother?" 

Instead of answering, she rose to her feet and began pacing between the tree roots. Saera watched, fear stirring in her chest at the older woman's silence.  Feeling her voice strangled in her suddenly dry throat, she spoke in a tight whisper, "Mother Ama?" 

Almost absently, as if thinking to herself, Mother Ama began to speak, "It seems like such a short time ago, but it has been years already.  Still, I remember it clearly, the day of your birth.  Seren was having such a hard time of it.  First births are almost always hard, but this time it was worse than most.  I began to have doubts if either of you would survive at all." 

Saera sucked in her breath quietly.  Her mother's name was Seren!  She was not among the priestesses at this temple, for she knew them all.  But just the knowledge of her name, to she who had never known mother or father, was like a precious jewel to hold between her hands and wonder at.  In the midst of this enlightenment, she was slow to notice that the Mother had stopped speaking.  When she did, she turned her head to see her sitting on a tree root, softly weeping into her hands.  "Mother Ama?  What is it?" 
Her voice seemed to bring the Priestess to herself.  Wiping the tears away on the sleeve of her green gown, she resumed speaking.  "Seren was my only child.  I had been lucky in that, as a Senior Priestess, I was allowed to keep her and raise her myself.  I loved her dearly, and I could see she was dying."  Rising, she began to pace again.  "So, I came here to beg the Goddess for her life.  Even if it meant losing the child.  You." 

She turned to look at Saera, watching the emotions playing across her young face. "Yes, child.  I am your grandmother.  And, at the time, if it would have saved my daughter's life, I would have killed you in the womb."  Looking down at her hands, she continued quietly,  "I'm  not  proud  of it. 
 
 

     Alone in the tree, Saera mulled over what Mother Ama - her grandmother! - had said.  She had a family, at last.  Her mother was dead, and she still knew nothing of her father, but at least she had one living relative to claim as her own.  She had never realized how much that lack had bothered her until now.  Listening to the other girls speak of the families they had left behind had created a sharp longing inside her at times, but in the everyday course of things, she had never really let herself think about it much.  Of course, there were other girls at the temple who were priestess-born.  They, like her, were not allowed to  know
who among the women had given birth to them, but most seemed to accept this easily.  Since girls were usually fostered at a different temple holding than the ones their birth mothers were pledged to, most of them never saw the women whom they might have called "Mother" under other circumstances.  Although it was rare, occasionally a priestess gave birth to a male child, who was then adopted out to a family in a nearby village.  Many of the women considered it their duty to provide at least one daughter to the Goddess, and so went through childbirth at least once in their lives.  Because of this, they were considered mothers to all of the priestess-born girls being raised in the temples.

Still, Saera thought, you couldn't help but wonder sometimes.  And now she knew. Perhaps, since her grandmother was the High Priestess of Temple Prime, her destiny was to be trained to take her place someday.  The thought was exciting, if a little intimidating.  But she resolved to be the best High Priestess Prime had ever had!

Time was beginning to drag, and like any vital young woman, Saera was getting bored.  Warm at last, she threw the covers off and got up.  Pacing across the floor, she began to explore her surroundings, limited though they were.  She approached the inside wall of the tree, and proceeded to trace it's circumference, running her hand along the smooth wood.  Letting her mind run idle in the silence, she was startled by a sudden voice behind her.

"So, Chosen One, you have come to Me at last."

Saera whirled about, almost falling in the process.  Her eyes grew wide at sight of the woman standing before her. 

She was beautiful.  With brilliant red hair unbound to fall past her waist, crackling like living fire around her.  Her eyes greener than the greenest of springtime, her complexion smoother than the richest cream.  Strong, yet delicate in form, her movements graceful yet purposeful.  Wrapped in the most gossamer fabric was a body both soft and firm.  The epitome of womanly beauty and majesty.   "THIS,"  Saera thought to herself  "is truly what a woman should be.  But no mere mortal is She, but the Goddess Herself." 

Falling to her knees in stunned adoration, Saera struggled for words, but could find none worthy of  the Presence she found herself in.  Tears streamed down her face, and she bowed her head, afraid to gaze on such magnificence too long, lest she go mad.

"Daughter, look upon me.  I would see your eyes, so that I may know your soul."

Fighting for a voice, Saera whispered, "Lady, I am afraid.  My soul is such a small thing, and trembles at your Power."

As she knelt there on the earthen floor of the tree, Saera felt a gentle touch as she was lifted to her feet by the most careful of hands.  Standing, one of those hands lifted her chin.  Eye to eye, Saera saw the love and compassion being offered her, and wept once more.   No longer out of fear, but for the endless joy flooding her very being.

Standing there, knees still quaking, Saera found strength to ask "Mother, what would you have of me?"  Knowing that everything she was belonged to this Being.  Knowing that she would offer her life, her death, her very soul, if it were required of her.

A soft smile spread across the ethereal features before her, tinged by sadness "These things may very well be required of you in time.  And yet these things I hesitate to ask of one so young.  For now, let me simply show you my own plight, and We will see if you are still willing to do whatever may be needed of you."  Taking Saera by the arm with one hand, She turned her towards the wall and waved Her other hand.

The wooden surface rippled, glowed softly, and a swirl of colors coalesced into an image.  Watching in fascination, forgetting to be afraid, Saera saw a blue and green ball swirled with white, standing against a black backdrop sprinkled with diamonds. 

"This," said a voice in her ear, "is my Sister-world, Earth.  From the heavens, our own world looks much the same.  Earth is where my Sister-Goddess reigns.  She takes Her life and very well-being from the world itself, as I do from our own world,  Ur.  My Sister and I are twins, as are our worlds.  Her name is Gaia, and Mine is Maia.  We are linked, one Soul divided into two, and our worlds are linked in much the same way.  What happens to one eventually happens to the other, as well.  When one thrives, so does the other.  When one dies, so will the other.  Our fates are intertwined, inseperable."

Saera struggled with the concept, finally beginning to realize that the fate of her own world hinged on the fate of the other.  The thought made her shudder.

"Yes, you see, don't you?"  Reading her thoughts, Maia continued,  "And so I come to my dilemma, and your destiny."

Waving Her hand again, the image shifted again, zooming in to show a world distress, explaining as the pictures shifted from one scene to another.  Saera was shown one animal after another gasping out it's last breath,  small mammals nudging at dying younglings, birds watching over eggs that would never hatch. Dark clouds of oil spreading over the waters, rain full of acid burning the leaves of the trees it was meant to give life to, deserts spreading over acres of farming land,  riverbanks washing away in devestating floods.  Human children starving, too weak to brush away the flies collecting in their eyes and mouths.  Families crying over homes shattered to spinters by tornadoes and hurricanes.  Factories pumping huge black clouds into air already barely breathable, bulldozers forcing paths through rainforests while the rest of it burns behind them.

Weeping, Saera pulled herself from the arm around her shoulder and turned away.  "No!  No more, please! How can this happen?  How can people do this to their world, to their Goddess?"  She sat on the floor and covered her face, trying to wipe the visions from her mind.

"They don't know what they're doing.  Most don't even believe in Gaia anymore, don't even know She exists.  They are lost.  They are killing Her, their world, and themselves, and most of them don't even realize it."  Maia explained, taking Saera into Her arms and rocking her like a small child.  "That is why We need you.  They need you."

"Me?!"  Saera pulled back and looked into the face of the Goddess in confusion and alarm "What do You expect me to do about it?  I'm not even a trained priestess, I'm just a girl."

The Goddess placed Her hands firmly on Saera's shoulders "Because, you are the Chosen One.  This is your destiny.  You must go there, for in saving Earth, you will be saving Gaia.  You will be saving your own world, Ur.  You will be saving Me."  Looking her in the eye, Her voice took on a pleading tone, "Because, you are the only one who can.  You are the only one who has ties to both worlds."

It took a moment for this to sink in.  Saera shook her head, "I don't understand."

"Saera, your mother, Seren, was of this world..." Saera interrupted, " I know that, but..."

"But your father was from Earth." The Goddess concluded.

Saera could do nothing but stand there dumbly, so many questions swirling through her mind that it was impossible to articulate any one.  She sat down on the earthen floor, mind numb and exhausted by so many revelations in such a short time, unable to assimilate it all.

The Goddess reached down and laid her hand on Saera's head. "I know, child, that all this is a bit overwhelming.  I also know that you will have many questions, but those will wait."  Reaching down, she lifted the worn girl to her feet.  "For now, I think you must go celebrate your Initiation.  When the time is come to begin your instruction,  I will  send for you.   I will answer all your questions then."  She gave Saera a fierce hug, and then threw her at the wall behind her.

She cried out, expecting to slam into the hard wood of the tree, and instead found herself falling back through that same inside-out darkness that brought her into the tree the first time.  With no sense of up or down, she stumbled from the tree, into the waiting arms of her grandmother.

The women flocked around her once more.  Chattering and excited, they exuded joy and warmth as they welcomed Saera, calling her "sister".  They lifted her to her feet and clothed her in a white robe and leather sandals. 

She tried to smile and join in, but the shock and confusion of the day's revelations clouded her happiness.  Catching her grandmother's eye, she saw the older woman nod, and knew they would discuss all of it in private later.   For now, there was a celebration to enjoy.

Saera forced herself to relax and allowed the enthusiasm of the other women to wash over her, like a healing balm.  Laughing and joking, they linked arms with her and led her out of the Temple, talking about the delights awaiting them at the feast.   She pushed all thoughts of Goddess's and destinies from her mind and joined in their light-hearted banter with the abandon only the young can know. 

Mother Ama smiled and promised to join them in the hall soon.  As soon as they were gone, she sank to a bench and laid her head in her hands.  "Mother," she mourned, "I have finally revealed myself to her, and now she will be gone from me.  I wish there were more time."

"There will be time."  A voice whispered from out of the darkness behind the altar.  She will have to be prepared for her journey, and I will need your help.  You will have three years with her, is that enough?"

"Three years....I suppose it will have to be."  The priestess sighed.  "And when she has gone, will I ever see her again?  Will she be lost to me forever?"

"That will depend on the outcome of her quest.  It is possible she will return someday, although not very likely.  Still, I will give you what time together that I can before then.  You are both very close to my heart, and I would have you happy, but sometimes duty comes before personal happiness.  "The Goddess paused. When next she spoke, there was sorrow in her voice.  "She is the only one who can do this, or I would not take her from you.  If I were to do otherwise, the world of my Sister, and my own, would be doomed." Mother Ama bowed her head. "I understand, Lady, and will do what I can to prepare her, though it breaks my heart." 

With a sigh, she rose, feeling suddenly old.  With a heavy heart, she slowly walked from the Temple.  Outside, her head rose and her back straightened.  She was determined not to ruin Saera's night of celebration, and so made her way towards the hall as if her very soul were not grieving her impending loss.  "This," she thought to herself, "is why we are not allowed to claim our daughters, why they are fostered at other temples.  If I had never kept Seren near me, loved her, and later her daughter, I would not be feeling this pain now."  But as she entered the hall and saw Saera laughing with the other women, she felt a stab of pride at this beautiful young woman who was destined for such great things, and a rush of love that brought tears to her eyes and a smile to her lips.  "No, it was worth it." Her heart said,  "All this pain, and more."  And knowing that there would be more, she dried her eyes quickly and decided that she would wring every drop of joy she could out of the next three years.
 
 

     Over the next six months, Saera was thrown into the life of a new priestess.  Learning her duties, creating bonds with the other women.  During this time, her friend A'lisha had her own Initiation, and Saera was lucky enough to be allowed to be one of the twelve priestesses to assist in the ceremony. 

She also spent a great deal of time with her grandmother.  They got to know each other,and found out that they truly liked each other.  Mother Ama told her stories of her own mother, Seren.  One day, while they were walking the hills near the temple holding, Saera brought up the question of her father, whom the Goddess had told her came from this other world, Earth. 

Mother Ama sighed, "All right, I suppose it's time, and you need to know everything I can tell you that may help you on your own journey. "she paused, sad at being reminded that their time together would end one day soon, then shook her head and continued. "It was Seren's turn to tend the tree that day, setting up everything for an upcoming Initiation.  But when she went inside, she found a man, where no man had ever been allowed.  He was injured and unconscious, so Seren laid him out on the pallet she had brought with her for the ceremony, and came to find me." 

She stopped and found a seat on the grass under a sycamore tree.  Saera sat beside her, remaining quiet, watching the dappled light play across the old woman's features. Mother Ama had a faraway look  in her eyes, remembering that day.  After a long moment of reflection, she continued: 

"We told no one of the desecration of the tree, but moved him quietly  to the infirmary.   I went to lay a fresh pallet in the tree, and left Seren to tend his wounds.  She had a true gift for healing, and I knew if he were to be saved, she was the one who could do it...." she paused, then added, "There have been many times since that I have wished we had let him die."

At Saera's shocked intake of breath she looked up.  "I'm sorry child, I should not say such things.  All life is sacred to the Goddess, and besides, if he had died I would not now have you."  She smiled and took her granddaughter's hand, "I guess I always felt that if he had died I would not have lost Seren.  But there's no way Ican know that for sure...." her voice trailed off as tears threatened at the remembered pain.  Giving herself a mental shake, she smiled at the bright young woman beside her and gave a silent prayer of thanks to the Goddess for this gift of life out of tragedy. 

"So," she continued, "Seren tended our stranger, staying by his side day and night, fighting for his life.  For three weeks he was unconscious, hovering on the edge of death, but Seren would not let him go.  And I waited, hoping he would come around and tell us how he came to be where no man should be.  It was then, I think, that Seren began to fall in love with him.  He was a very handsome man, your father, with strong features and wavy-gold hair.  Not like Seren's dusky complexion and dark hair.  You're more like him than her, although you have her petite stature." 

Saera tucked these jewels of information away, to savor later when she was alone. "What did he say, when he finally awoke?  How did he come to be in the tree?" Her curiosity awakened, she eagerly plied her grandmother with questions. 

"For a long time, he said very little.  When he regained consciousness, he did not know where he was, and could not remember where he'd come from or how he came to be here.  I sent out to the nearby villages and farms to see if there were reports of a missing man, but there were none.  He was a mystery, even to himself.

Over the next few months, Seren stayed with him, neglecting her duties.  They walked the hills as he became stronger. Not knowing then what I knew later, I gave her my blessing.  It was good to see her in love, the way she glowed, and I hoped that she would give the Goddess the daughter that was Her due from all Her priestesses."  She smiled and brushed the back of her hand across Saera's cheek.  "I never imagined Seren would bless me, and the Goddess, with such a treasure." 

Saera blushed at the compliment, and caught her grandmother's hand between her own.  "It is I who am blessed,  grandmother.  To have the High Priestess as grandmother and teacher, what girl could ever dream of more?" 

"Well,  then  we  are  both  blessed,  indeed."   Patting Saera's cheek, she continued, "However, we were speaking of your father and mother."  She plucked a piece of grass and twirled it between her fingers as she picked up the thread of her story once more. 

"They were young and in love, beautiful and happy.  But there still remained the question of your father's identity, and how he came to be here.  Little by little, mostly in dreams, memories began to come back to him.  He remembered his name, a strange name it was, Ray-monde.  He insisted we call him Ray.  The memories he related to us were so bizarre, I thought most of it was simply delusions, caused by his injuries - although they were by this time nothing but scars, thanks to Seren." 

"His last memory, before waking in our infirmary, was of being attacked by a group of young men he referred to as a 'gang' and then sheltering under a stone bridge in a strange kind of garden he called a 'park'.  This only served to deepen the mystery, and so at last I sought counsel of the Goddess."  A gust of wind threw the boughs of the trees into a frenzy, and she come out of her reverie to see clouds building above them. 

"It is going to rain, child.  Let us go back to the temple holding, and I will finish the story there." Saera helped Mother Ama to her feet, thinking, how old and frail she suddenly seemed!  Slowly, they made their way back to the safety of the temple walls, robes flapping about their legs and threatening to trip them at every step. Finally, Saera kilted hers up and tucked them in her girdle.  Mother Ama gave her a dis- approving frown, but realizing the sense in the action, and did the same to hers with a grin and a shrug. At the first crraack!!! of lightening, they began to run for the gates.  They hurried between the buildings and up the stairs to the Priestess's quarters amidst booms of thunder, the older woman showing no signs of infirmity now, and ducked in the door just as the rain hit with sudden fury. 

Laughing and breathless, the two women watched the rain pelt down for a few moments from the doorway.  Finally,  Saera  turned away and stirred up the fire in the hearth, swinging  the teapot over the flames, as Mother Ama went about lighting candles against the early gloom brought on by the storm.  Giggling like pre-initiates, they threw themselves down into a pair of chairs by the fire, letting their heartbeats slow as the flush faded from their faces. 

Curled up by the fire with cups of tea, listening to the rain drive against the roof and walls, Saera prompted her grandmother to take up her tale once more.  "So, grandmother, what did the Goddess say when you approached her  with the mystery of my father?" 

"At first, all I could get from Her was that he was 'Not of this land.'   Then, She finally told me that there was a purpose in his being here, although She never told me what it was." Mother Ama smiled and, reaching between the two chairs,  took Saera's hand, "I now know that it was to father you, a child of both worlds.  A child to save both worlds." 

Saera shifted uneasily in her chair.  She was still not comfortable with the idea of what she must do.  Had no concept,  even, of what was expected of her.  How was she supposed to "save" two worlds.  What was so special about her?  Her friend A'lisha was much smarter than she was, and she knew many girls who's dedication to the temple was greater than hers.  Sometimes she wished she could just be herself, without a destiny or any great expectations put upon her. 

Her conflict and self-doubt showed on her face, and Mother Ama saw it, and read it correctly.  Although she felt badly for the weight put upon the girl, she decided this was an issue better taken up between her granddaughter and the Goddess, and continued with her story. 

"Eventually, your father's memory returned, and we realized what had happened, although not why.  He remembered being in great pain, sheltering beneath that bridge, and knew he was dying.  In his desperation, he called out for his mother, and the Mother answered.  The Goddess of his world, Gaia, transported him here, to the sanctuary of Her Sister." 

"But grandmother," Saera interrupted, "Why didn't She just heal him Herself, instead of sending him here?  Or, was there not a temple nearby which could have aided him?" 

"His world had no temple holdings.  No sanctuaries dedicated to the Goddess of his world.  It is a very strange place, this Earth.  They have forgotten the Goddess, except for a few souls who have been persecuted and belittled for their belief.  And, you forget, he had a destiny, too." She shook her head, "No, it was necessary for him to be sent here.  It could not have been done any other way." 

"By the time your father had recovered his memories, your mother was carrying you. She glowed, proud to be giving a daughter to the Goddess, and in love with your father beyond all reason.  She even spoke of leaving the temple and moving to one of the villages.  We argued.  I told her the temple could not afford to lose her healing gift, reminded her of her oaths to the Goddess.  I was desperate, for I couldn't bear to have her leave me.  I was also concerned that your father's own world would draw him back someday, and knew she would be devastated and would need me nearby." 

"Which is finally what came about." She stared down into the cup of tea that had grown cold in her hands, as if the  answers to old griefs could be found  there.   "Your mother  had  agreed  to stay at the temple holding at least until after your birth, and have you dedicated to the Goddess.  I arranged for them to have quarters near mine.  Two weeks before you were due to be birthed, it happened...." Her voice trailed off, and tears shimmered in her lashes. 

Saera slid from her chair, kneeling at her grandmother's feet.  She gently took the tea cup from her and set it aside,  taking both of the old woman's hands in her own.  They were so frail, and quivered in hers like frightened birds.   "Grandmother?" 

Ama blinked back the tears and looked down at her granddaughter.  "I'm fine, child. Don't fret yourself over an old woman's tears, they are just part of the memory." Taking a deep breath, she plunged on.

"Your mother was at the Temple, saying her daily prayers for an easy birth and a healthy child.  Ray went to get her, as he did every day, so they could spend the afternoon together.  So focused was she on her devotions that she did not hear him enter, and he walked all the way up to the Altar.  When she looked up, he was standing beside the Tree.  Probably curious, as he knew that he had been found inside it.  She saw him reach out to touch it, and before she could warn him that it was not allowed, the tree opened and he was drawn inside." 

"She threw herself forward, crying his name, but the tree had already sealed itself behind him and would not let her in.  She came running to find me, and we both hurried to the Temple.  I tried to get her to sit in my rooms and wait for me, but she would not.  She was desperate and hysterical."  Her hands had begun to tremble again, and Saera held them tighter. 

"When we got to the Temple, I opened the tree and we entered.  He was gone.  Your mother collapsed." Tears had begun flowing now, running unheeded through the lines on her face to drip onto her chest. "Several women had come running to find out what was going on, and helped me move her to the infirmary.  She was in labor by then."  Taking a shuddering breath, she finished. "Well, you know the rest.  You were born, your mother died, and your father was never seen again." 

Mother Ama's tears were falling freely, as were Saera's.  They landed and flowed together on their linked hands.  Saera knew that this day the bond between them had become stronger than ever, sealed by their mingled tears.  Orphaned, her mother dead and her father Goddess-knew-where,  still she was at peace. For the first time in her life, Saera felt as if she truly belonged somewhere, to someone.  It was a lack that never seemed to bother most temple-born girls, but she had always felt the absence of family keenly.  But now it was different.  Now she had her grandmother. 

Wiping her face with the back of one hand, Saera rose and went searching for a handkerchief.  Realizing her intent, Mother Ama directed her.  "In the top drawer of that cabinet in the corner.  Here, let me help you."  She stood, took two steps, and gripped the back of the chair, swaying. 

"Grandmother!" Saera cried, rushing to support the old woman,  "What's wrong?  Are you unwell?" 

"I'll be fi..." Mother Ama's voice trailed off as her eyes rolled back and she slumped to the floor.  Saera was unable to support her limp body and went down with her.  Disentangling herself, Saera struggled up and ran to the door. 

"Help!  Someone, please, send a healer.  Grandmother is ill!"  Saera called out desperately, hoping someone was close enough to hear.  She didn't dare leave the Priestess alone.  Leaving the door open, she ran back and knelt on the floor, gently lifting Mother Ama's head into her lap.  Stroking the disturbingly pale cheeks of the old priestess, Saera crooned assurances, more for herself than her unconscious grandmother. 

Two healers rushed in, radiating a cool efficiency, and gently moved Saera away so that they could examine their patient.  She hovered over them, asking, "Is she all right?  What is wrong with her?"
Realizing she was babbling in panic, she still couldn't stop herself, "She just fainted, I couldn't hold her up.  I tried, but I just couldn't!"  She bust into wild sobs. 

One of the healers looked over her shoulder at an acolyte who had rushed in behind them, carrying their herbs and tools rolled up in a length of cotton.  "Get her out of here, take her down to the Hall, or the Temple."  Nodding, the acolyte set her bundle down on the floor near the two healers where they kneeled over Mother Ama and took Saera by the elbow. 

"Come," she said softly, "Let them do their work.  We'll go to the Hall and get you a cup of tea."  When Saera tried to pull away, she added, "They'll send for you once they have her moved to the infirmary and comfortable." 

Saera opened her mouth to protest, then bowed her head and allowed herself to be led from the room. The acolyte took her down to the Hall.  After seating Saera at a table, she went to the large fireplace at the end of  the long room where a pot of water was always kept near the flames.  Dipping the hot water into a mug, she scooped a handful of dried leaves from one of the earthenware jars on a nearby shelf and stuffed them into a small cloth bag, dipping it into the mug to brew. 

"Here."  She handed the mug to Saera and seated herself on the bench next to her.  "It's chamomile, it will calm your nerves."  Saera wrapped her hands about the mug, remembering the tea she had so recently shared with her grandmother.  Fresh tears started behind her eyes, but she blinked them back.  "Do you think she'll be all right?  Will they send for me soon?" 

"I don't know,"  answering both questions with the one statement.  "All we can do now is wait.  I'm Sherrel, by the way."  The younger girl held out her hand. 

Making an effort to be polite, Saera reached out a hand, palm up, and brushed her fingertips across the bottom of Sherrel's own.  "I'm Saera." 

"I know," she blurted, then blushed at her rudeness. "That is, I mean..." She stammered and fell silent in  embarrassment. 

Cocking her head to one side, she smiled reassuringly at the flustered girl, "That's all right.  I'm sure there must be some pretty strange stories going around about me.  Is it a terrible scandal that Mother Ama has publicly recognized me  as her granddaughter?" 

"Well, a little.  No one really talks about it much, but you can tell that some of the older priestesses disapprove." Seeing that Saera was not angry about it, she dared to ask her what they had all speculated about.  "Are you being trained as Mother Ama's successor?" 

Saera exclaimed, "Is that what they're saying about me?"  Then, to the other girl's surprise, she burst into laughter. 

Sherrel didn't know how to react to this.  As the laughter went on, she began to fear that Saera was hysterical.  She looked about the Hall for help, but they were alone in the huge room.  To her relief, the laughter subsided into giggles and hiccups, then stopped. 

Saera took a deep breath and wiped tears from her eyes.  "Oh, if they only knew.  I wish it were something so simple, I really do."  She placed her hand over Sherrel's. "It's all right.  I'm sorry if I alarmed you." 

"Then you aren't going to replace her?  Then why....no, I shouldn't ask."  pausing, she searched for a change of subject, but could think of nothing to say. 

"I would tell you if I could." Saera sighed, "I wish I could tell someone.  A burden is twice as heavy when carried alone. But even if I were allowed to talk about it, I don't think anyone would understand." 

"Even if you can't tell me exactly what it is," Sherrel offered, "If you ever want to talk, I promise I won't discuss it with anyone else." 

"Thank you, I might take you up on that sometime."  Saera smiled and sipped her tea. "If you don't mind, there are a couple of things you can do for me,  though." 

"Of course!"  The younger girl felt a sense of pride at being asked to help the acknowledged granddaughter of the High Priestess.  "What can I do?" 

"Well, for one, you can tell everyone that I am NOT going to replace my grandmother as High Priestess." 

"Oh!  Yes, that would probably be good for people to know.  I think some of the older priestesses were jealous over that." 

"I'm sure they would be.  It's a wonder no one has mentioned it to me before."  Saera smiled, knowing this must be the reason some of the older women had been so distant towards her, while others were unduly helpful.  This should ease things for everyone somewhat. 

"What is the other thing?" Sherrel inquired. 

"Take me to the infirmary to see how my grandmother is doing."  When the younger girl opened her mouth to protest,  Saera forestalled her, "I promise, I won't get in the way or get hysterical.  I'm fine now.  But I really would like to find out how she is." 

Sherrel thought for a moment, then nodded her head.  "I'm sure that will be all right.  They must have her stable by now." 

Rising from the bench, Saera took Sherrel's hand.  "Thank you, for the tea, and the distraction." 

"It was an honor and a pleasure."  pausing, Sherrel ventured one last remark, "Do you know that some of the priestesses are calling you 'The Chosen One'?  No one will tell us what it means."  hurrying on, lest she be misunderstood, "I'm not asking, I just thought you might want to know." 

Saera looked at her with an unreadable expression, "That's interesting.  I'm glad you told me."  She linked arms with the girl, "Now, let's go see about grandmother, shall we?"  Pleased at the intimacy of the gesture, Sherrel allowed herself to be marched out of the Hall towards the infirmary. 

The entrance to the infirmary was crowded with those who had rushed over when theyheard that Mother Ama was ill. Conversations faded down to whispers and they parted like a field of grain in the wind as Saera approched with Sherrel still in tow.  Nodding to them, Saera pulled the young acolyte with her across the threshold into the hushed confines of the House of Healing.  They were instantly confronted with the healer who had ordered Sherrel to keep Saera away. 

"Sherrel!  I thought I told you to keep her out of here until we sent for you." The healer delivered her rebuke in a stern whisper.  Hands on hips, she frowned at the young girl, who cowered beside Saera. 

Saera stepped forward, pushing the frightened acolyte 
behind her.  "Sister Kiera, isn't it?" At the woman's curt nod she continued, "You must excuse Sherrel, Sister.  She did try to keep me away, but I simply couldn't wait another moment to find out how grandmother was doing.  I was coming with or without her, so she came to see that I at least caused no trouble.  So, you see, it's not her fault."  Smiling, Saera continued.  "I have promised her to be on my best behavior, and I also promise you.  I will not interfere or be in the way, and I won't get hysterical.  So, please, how is my grandmother and when may I see her?" 

Sister Kiera's arms flapped, as she was not sure whether to keep them on her hips, cross them, or simply throw them into the air in exasperation.  Seeing the two girls stifling giggles, she realized how comical she must look.  So, she smiled, shrugged, and dropped her arms.  "Well, I was about to send for you anyway.  Your grandmother is resting comfortably, I will take you  to her."  Shooting Saera a look she hoped was suitably stern, she added, "But you must be quiet, and don't upset her." 

"I won't." Saera promised.  As the healer led her down the hallway, she asked, "Sister Kiera, what happened to my grandmother anyway?  What is wrong with her?"  The worry was plain in her voice. 

Pausing, Sister Kiera told her softly, "She has had a small brainstorm.  The flow of blood in her head was interrupted for a short moment by a small obstruction, which has since passed.  She is very lucky, it could have been much worse. She has some weakness on one side, but that should pass with time."  Trying to gauge just how much she should tell the young woman, she took in Saera's calm demeanor and decided to explain further. "These things are not uncommon at her age, and there is a danger that it could happen again, with even worse consequences.  We are giving her medicines to prevent another blockage, but she is going to have to slow down.  It may be time for her to release some of her responsabilities as High Priestess, and name a successor." 

Looking the woman in the eye, Saera knew she was aware of the rumors, and decided to lay them to rest, beginning here.  "That may be.  I'm sure my grandmother will be able to make a good choice, since there are so many suitable candidates to choose from amongst the older priestesses."  Seeing the understanding in the healer's eyes, she continued, "I appreciate you informing me of my grandmother's condition.  Now, may I see her?" 

Nodding, Sister Kiera turned and led her to a room at the end of the hallway.  Checking to make sure Mother Ama was awake, she ushered Saera in and pulled Sherrel back down the hallway with her, leaving them alone.  She told Sherrel to wait in the receiving area,  in case Saera  needed her,  and rushed outside to pass on what she had learned.  Sherrel watched her go.  Imagining all the white robed priestesses standing out there gossiping like a bunch of winter geese, she shook her head and sat down to wait. 

Saera looked across the room to the bed where her grandmother lay.  It was a small bed, but it still seemed to dwarf the still form of the Priestess.  Surely that was not her tall, imposing grandmother?  The priestess who could command the attention and reverence of an entire temple holding?  Understanding came to Saera; Mother Ama was not a large woman, never had been, but simply appeared so in her full majesty as High Priestess. This was no High Priestess laying in this soft bed, but an old woman, brought down by illness.  Her grand- mother, who needed her.  She stepped softly to the bed, so as not to disturb it's occupant, but as she bent over her, Mother Ama's eyes fluttered open. 

At first she seemed unable to focus, but then her sight settled on her granddaughter's face, and she smiled, one side of her mouth lagging behind the other.  "Saera." she whispered, the word slow and slightly slurred. 

Tears starting to her eyes, Saera sat gently on the side of the bed and took her grandmother's hand.  "I'm here, grandmother.  Don't try to talk, just rest."  Reaching for the water pitcher and a cloth from the small table by the bed, Saera wet it and wiped her grandmothers face softly.  The water had been scented with peppermint, and the old woman closed her eyes at it's cooling touch. "The healers say you'll be just fine, you just need to rest for a while.  So sleep now,  and get well." 

Opening her eyes once more, she forced the words out, barley more than a whisper, "Don't...go." 

"I won't, grandmother.  I'll stay right here with you until you're well again."  With that reassurance, Mother Ama let her eyes drift shut again, and slept.  Saera sat there for a long time, watching her grandmother's face, seeing the slight sag that ran from under her right eye to the corner of her mouth.  She let the tears fall silently, thankful that she had not lost her grandmother, but sad, too.  Because they had all lost the strong, vibrant High Priestess they had known, and Saera knew she would never return.

Drawing of. . .  Mother Ama as she sleeps in the Healing House