Callisto

Chosen

"No."

It was a word she had grown to hate. She did not acknowledge its meaning.

"Try again, child."

She felt paralyzed under the watchful gaze of Father-Mother.

"The three Houses which govern us," she began, shaking like a wounded kitten. "The House of Snake, House of Ash, and House of Hawk. Each represents part of the tribe. Without one, there is no whole. Without the unity the Houses provide, there is no Hanakh."

"So it is, and so it shall ever be," Father-Mother said, casting fire salts into the two burning azure braziers flanking them. In their tent, there was no law but Father-Mother, and their ancient eyes held a light brighter and more potent than any flame could conjure within them.

"And what is the purpose of each House?"

Rain-Born gulped, struggling under the watchful gaze of the Elder One.

"To hold us together as a family," she croaked. "The Tribe with the most solid foundations shall never fall."

"Good," Father-Mother said. "Tell us, Rain-Born of the Snake, what knowledge does each House bestow upon a child of the Hanakh?"

"To the House of the Snake, I offer my sword and am granted courage," she said with pride. "To the House of Ash, I offer my soul and am granted passage to the Hunting Grounds of the Great Spirit in death. To the House of the Hawk, I offer my mind and am granted knowledge – for a sheep without a Shepard is nothing more than carrion for the wolves of the desert wastes."

At the sound of a derisive cough from somewhere in the shadows, Rain-Born immediately prostrated before Father-Mother and cursed her mind for forgetting the courtesy.

Father-Mother looked upon her supplicant form and let their eyes wander – looking within and finding the trappings of this young warrior's soul. There was a hunger within her small frame. There was the desire to prove herself. To be one of them. Even as she never truly could be.

No matter. If she was to be a useful instrument and wished to serve the whims of the tribe faithfully, her spirit had to be ready.

"Child of the Snake," Father-Mother whispered. "We, your Father-Mother, would ask you what guidance you have obtained from the House of the Hawk. Shall you answer our question?"

"I will," Rain-Born said immediately.

No hesitation, Father-Mother noted. Good.

"What is the name of the Hanakh's true enemy?"

"The Guthra, Father-Mother."

Silence.

Rain-Born waited, sweat gathering on her brow and dropping like tiny, dead flies onto her clenched knuckles.

Finally, Father-Mother spoke.

"Child," they said. "You are not yet ready."

She felt her entire soul being crushed by the weight of the words.

She did all she could to keep herself from shaking and dared not raise her head even a fraction of an inch. From behind, she could feel scorn being levied at her back. A hot flush of shame painted itself across her cheeks.

"You will go," Father-Mother said – their tone strict, tinged with the taste of disappointment. "You shall learn the answer to these things, I ask. You shall come before us in another year and tell us which Path you wish to walk. You shall do these things, or you shall be discarded. Even the sharpest blade is nothing without a well-tempered mind to wield it."