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Dance of the WindChapter One            "Isis? Isis? Father wants you! He says

it's mandatory!" a voice calls over

the still mountain range, which was filled with many different grasses and

greens that procured to the benign

wild life. The early February winds bring the voice to a whisper by my ears.

            I slowly break out of my rest

on the field of grass that had protected us and gave us warmth through the

gods' harmony. We hadn't been to war in a hundred years, a long time to bring

our world back to the stories we had heard of; a living Eden is what we strive

for. "Aw," I let out a sigh of discontent, "why now; I was having some great

rest." Whether or not I wanted to move from my spot, I had to. My spot, among

many, make the gears of our civilization churn.             I slide off

the rock and made light movements towards the source of the voice. Once I get

to a clearing among the trees, I hear the roaring thunder, and I knew that she

had went to the waterfall. I sing a lullaby I had made up during my nap, and

slowly approach the falling water against the dark rock cave.

            I move my hand to swipe some

bushes that had been in my way of the waterfall, and discover the source of the

noise. It's my sister Kara, age of thirteen, gowned in a light white dress, the

plain clothes that we all wear. She has blond curly hair with opal eyes, waving

to me with a wide grin, though concealing something in her hand.            Our

clothing is anything but lavish, and

the gods would have wanted it that way. We coexist in a world where we are as

just as important as the people beside us, so clothing of different versions

would apply social order, a fatuous ideal

that we struggled to eliminate in the wars of old.            Though our

clothing is kept the same, the gods did encourage uniqueness by allowing us to

keep our own faces. My appearance is quite mature, my mother says, even for a

girl of sixteen. I have long dark brown hair, which compliments my soft emerald

eyes. Many people in my tribe have wanted me to marry, but my father, a gourmand of a tribe leader, has a very

close watch on any boys in the tribe. He says he couldn't trust them because he

couldn't trust his younger self after he matured. This usually gets quite a

laugh out of me, but I do feel the loneliness dawn every once in a while.            Kara is in

front in of the waterfall, which happens to be a little dandelion garden, and

holds something in her hands rather deftly.

"Here, I thought it would make father smile," she says. She pulls back my

hair behind my ears and places a rare red rose in the same lodge. I smile.

"Where did you get this, Kara?"  She

looks at me, smiling while her eyes where filled with joy, and then gestures

with a big open arm to the dandelion garden. "I found it here! It must be a

blessing Kara! Now we must hurry back home to show Dad!"            She begins

walking while tugging on my arm as I follow her to the village. Roses are actually very seldom in

this village. They are the mark of beauty, and as so, can catch a fair price at

the local dealers.            We stride towards a brown temple

with three strokes of squiggly lines on it; The Temple of Air is what my people

refer to it as. We pull the glass doors open and approach a hiatus in the canvases that were painted with our world history, and walk quietly

down the dark hallway to the center of the temple where our father had told us

to be at 6th bell. He was a big and cheery man who was chief of this

village because he was the leader of winds. My father always used to tell me

stories of how each village had his/her own leader of his/her element. It just

so happened that my father was talented in the art of singing, and he was

appointed the Leader of Winds.            We share a

laugh before he says, "Isis, I need to talk to you alone. Kara, could you

please step out of the room, please. And- Oh my! What a beautiful rose! Kara

you have the lovely eye of a hawk! This is a sign of the gods' blessing Kara! I

wonder what the future holds for you yet!"            She replies

with a bright gleaming grin, "Thank you, Father. Mom should be at the weavers'

tent, right?" He responds with a nod, and soon we are left alone in his office,

a library filled with dusty old volumes that I can only stand so much of.

Sunlight leaks through the glass from his office, illuminating it so well

compared to the lighting of other areas. Dad walks me down to a section of the

temple that was restricted, and I was hesitant to follow him. I get over this

uneasiness, and follow him into the worship room, which was rather empty except

the raised hexagon platform that had the temple's squiggly lines on it. My

father stops and looks at me, rather proudly, and starts to give me an

explanation. "Isis, I have told you about the multiple gifts that allowed people

to be heads in the temple, right? Well, I am getting enervated, and I noticed your particular aptitude

for dancing. I have chosen you to be my successor, but first," he says incessant, "we must prove your worthiness to the gods." He pulls

out a drawer and within it is a blue dress with flowers on the shoulders and a

blue veil. The finer details were made of gold, a material forbidden to be

worn, yet I could wear them. I look in interest to the gown, and he tells me to

go put it on. I hesitantly take the gown and fit them on in a changing room off

to the side of the worship room.            The materials were so soft in

comparison to my old white dress, and the bright colors and golden metal flower

shoulder plates make me feel like a connection between the gods and humans. I

walk into the room and stand on top of the cold stone hexagonal platform and

feel energy surging within me. I begin to move my legs and spin while my hair

flowed behind my back, almost like a flag signaling surrender. Soon the

movements got faster and faster, the spins becoming twirls and my arm movements

cut short by my suddenly gained momentum. I soon can't take it anymore and I

pass out.            I awaken to a cup by my lips and my

father smiling.            "Isis, they have accepted you."(No. I'm not Dead! I'm just extremely busy!!) this is actually a new story of mine for school purposes, so it most likely won't contain furries