Her Awakening 

     Yoconté inhales, and the hot, stale air fills his nostrils. It tickles the hairs in his nose as it weaves its way into his body.  Closing his eyes, Yoconté brings forth images of home, of his mother, Tiochlecte.  There, the songs of life flutter through her body and breath. Each exhale in the dewy morning creates a gust of wind that carries swirling scents of sweet pollen, rich tobacco, hot maza, and warm cacao. Now, that home is one of the many bright lights, one of the many portals to different times and spaces, to loved ones that live on as energy in the night sky, Yoconté lets out a howl, “Owooooooowhooo,” a calling to them. The howl bites into the heavy air.

     “It is time” Yoconté says to the air and to the dry soil pressed against his rough leathery paws. Stepping over the crest he looks out and sees beyond the parched brown landscape to what will be and grins. His chapped lips, a mixture of coal and oil colors snag on his teeth. Using his tongue he moistens his lips and frees them. As usual he is the first to arrive. 

     He saunters this way and that way, feeling and whispering to Her until he finally stops. Kneeling down, he presses his front paws into the soil. His nails pierce past the crumbling top layer and into the rich soil beneath. The small granules burrow deep within the cracks between his flesh and nails. Cradling the soil within both hands he holds Her and listens. Her voice is deeper than Tiochlecte. Yoconté remembers his first conversation with Tiochlecte. 

Remembers how she gave birth to him. 

Remembers her first words. 

Remembers their first conversation. 

There he was born knowing her language, here it would take some time to learn this new mother’s language. Then parting the cradle he lets the dust and granules fallback to the ground. They travel fast, unencumbered by wind, or moisture filled air. “That will change,” Yoconté thinks to himself. 

     “Kee-eeeee-arr,” comes a cry from above. Yoconté rises to his feet to better greet his friend Howali. Howali’s talons reach down from the sky towards the vast adobe landscape. For a brief moment Yocontè catches sight of his reflection in Howali’s obsidian talons. The last thousand years had not marked his elegant black and red coat but Yocante sees the years on his face, really it is in his eyes. The once golden yellow of his eyes is now dark with only flecks of the brilliant yellow.

     “Owooooooowhooo,” replies Yoconté. Howali’s talons hit the ground sending a plume of dust into the air, obscuring Howali from Yoconté’s vision. The haze increases as Howali greets Her with his body crouched low and his large wings flapping. The feathers ever so gently graze the ground. As the dust clears Howali’s broad profile starts to manifest through the haze. At first, all Yocontè makes out is Howali’s head and large shoulders.  As usual, Howali’s head shifts sharply this way and that way. 

     “Your late,” says Yoconté with a slight smirk exposing his sharp canine teeth. 

     Howali peers at his companion, “Tell me, my brother, do you ever look up?” Howali chuckles, “You may be bound to the ground, but do not forget to look towards the sky.” Yoconté grunts as he realizes his oversight, one that is not new to him. 

     Using one of his talons Howali carves a circle into the soil. Yoconté draws two lines separating the circle into four equal parts. Carefully, Yoconté draws a bundle from within his shoulder bag and places it in the middle of the circle. As he pulls away the fabric he exposes a medicine burner.  From hidden within his feathers, Howali pulls forth a small container of water held around his neck by a braided strand of cotton.

     “With this offering from our mother, her blood, may blood run through your veins, and create life for your children.” says Hawali as he traces the circle in water. Hawali and Yoconté dance, their paws and talons in unison hitting the ground. The soil hard and coarse sends each step back into their own bodies. Yoconté’s and Howali’s chests heave as their energy expands and passes into Her. The reverberation of each step pushes the energy rich moisture deeper and deeper until it reaches Her heart where it pools and then travels out. 

     “Owooooooowhooo,” bellows Yoconté as he feels Her skin soften. Soon moisture seeps in between Howali’s talons and sprays into the air as his talons hit the soil. 

     “Kee-eeeee-arr,” cries Howali. Now with each step the skin swollen with moisture pulsates. Their footprints now imprint into Her, a record of each step, and of the awakening. The water rises until there is a great body of water and as She exhales the water gently flows over the footsteps and carries them away. 

     Howali and Yoconté stop yet She continues to move, pulsate, and breath. Moving their gaze from Her to each other their cries and howls carry away into the wind. Yoconté’s eyes fix onto Howali’s feathers. The feathers on his head stand straight up in small clumps while the others sag around his frame. 

     “You look like a scrawny chick,” says Yoconté with a yip of laughter. 

     After puffing out his chest a bit Howali responds, “Look at you, your fur spikes out like a porcupine with small dull quills,” replies Howali.  With a slightly mischievous grunt Yoconté shakes his entire body sending droplets out in every direction. Howali quickly hops away while giving a slight glare to his brother, but then smiles remembering that it is this playful energy that he loves about Yoconté. 

     Together they sit and look out at a world now rich and moist. A slight gust of wind twirls around them as they scooch closer together for warmth and wait to dry. 

     “What shall we name Her,” says Howali.

     Yoconté presses a paw into her and stays silent for some time before replying, “Earth.”