The Forest and Desert

Jaumes

The sun rose over the canopies of a temperate forest. As it did, a small clearing came alive with the scurrying of small lizards. A light chatter filled the air as they left their burrows and separated off into their hunting or gathering groups to get breakfast. They were depojico, a green anole-like species that had gained sentience through magic. The depojico mainly lived in the mountains. These forest dwellers were called shajicoy, meaning “war people”.

But in the several months that he’d lived with them, apprentice Jaumes Oiv had never seen them attack anything except for prey. And one squirrel that had accidentally dug into their egg burrow.

The only problem of living with them was that he had to wake up at the crack of dawn.

“Wake up, Jaumes. We don’t want the birds to think you’re an earthworm, now, do we?” a playful voice said.

“They won’t. I have legs,” Jaumes said.

He curled up tighter on the ground on his side of the burrow. Next to him, his fellow apprentice Mahela Falive rolled her eyes. In a quick motion, she poked her snout hard into Jaumes’ side. Jaumes yelped, and his eyes flew open. He jumped to his feet- then tripped over an illusion that he’d unconsciously made from his breath. Mahela laughed once, then went to help him up.

“Don’t do that!” Jaumes said.

“Sorry,” Mahela said innocently,“It’s just that the aljeaberav official is coming within an hour. We’re going to be observed today.”

Jaumes’ scales went pure green. Like the anole-like dagiri they came from, depojico scales changed from brown to green under stress. Normally that stress was annoyance or anger, but in this situation it was fear. It took a deep breath and cloaking magic to turn Jaumes’ scales back to normal. Mahela shook her head.

“Grey, Jaumes, grey. Do you want them to find out we’re falery?” she asked.

“Right, thanks,” Jaumes said.

He breathed out again, using the magic that was created to make his scales appear the color of stone. The dipojico of Rieso, the oldest and original dipojico country, viewed scales as something to adorn with unnatural color. Grey showed patriotism and good ethics. Then out they went to meet the official.

But instead of a riesy waiting for them outside the burrow, they found their aljeny friend Honasa Vuhi. The teen bobbed his head, the depojico equivalent of a smile.

“Rise and shine, mountain lizards,” Honasa said.

As usual, he had the energy of the sun in him. Jaumes found that trait both endearing and infuriating in the morning. Today the distinction was clear when Honasa noticed the apprentice’s scales. His head bobbing immediately stopped, his energy left, and mottled green began to sneak in under his scales.

“Oh. A riesy is coming today.”

Honasa turned and scampered off. Mahela stomped a foot.

“Oh, right! He wanted to show us how they fish!” she said.

“We still have time before the mission starts,” Jaumes said, “Besides, we need breakfast.”

Mahela nodded. The apprentices chased after their friend. Honasa noticed them over his shoulder.

“No, I don’t want to taint your observation before you start. Mountain folk don’t interact with us,” he said, scampering over branches and leaves as he entered the forest.

“Honasa, you know we don’t think that about you,” Mahela said, avoiding a falling twig, “Besides, the mission doesn’t start for an hour. And we need breakfast.”

The aljeny paused, then turned slowly.

“...You’re sure?” he asked.

“Completely,” Mahela said.

As Jaumes came panting behind her, he noticed that her back was brown. Honasa noticed too, and started to bob his head.

“The forest’s rubbing off on you,” he said, “Let’s go catch a fish.”

* * * * *

Sandstorm

A bonfire in the desert sent black smoke into the cloudless sky. It stood about fifty feet away from a wattle and daub village on a riverbed. This village was very different from the mostly hidden encampment of dipojico. This was a human village.

Sandstorm danced with his father in front of the bonfire. The stone necklace with a rising sun pendant that he wore thumped against his chest as he did. The two stomped their feet and let their arms fall in spirals from the sky to the dusty ground. It was the dance of Father Sun, the giver of light and heat and life. The people of Blue River gathered around, watching and clapping to the beat of the dance.

Sandstorm loved the dance. As a future chief, he was the only one besides his father that was allowed to learn it. It brought the heat and energy and power of Father Sun into his bones, making him feel wise and powerful enough to lead his tribe against four others in battle.

Today, however, this dance was for a different reason. A diplomat from the Western Forest people was coming. The only times that diplomats were exchanged between tribes was for marriages or “chief exchanges”. Formally, the second one was known as “chief trainings”, but no one even believed that anymore. In the meetings, everyone pretended that the exchanged sons would come back to their birth tribes.

It was terrifying to think that today’s pretend game would involve the complete 180 of Sandstorm’s life.

“Smoke, messenger of Father Sun,” Sandstorm’s father, Chief Rain, said, “Tell Father Sun that we request a good trade and a wise chief! We request peace with the Western Forest until Sandstorm is with him in the sky! We request protection from our enemies!”

At the end of the entreaty, Sandstorm and his father stopped dancing. Sandstorm watched the smoke rise up and up, bringing their prayer with it. Chief Rain beckoned to Sandstorm to follow him back to the village.

No one mingled with them as they walked, though the Chief wasn’t separate from his people. Sandstorm watched his childhood friends pass by like he wasn’t there. They were all his age, from tweens to early teens. He had known them for his whole life.

There was the mischievous Reed and Raindrop, brother and sister, who managed to get into and know everything. When Sandstorm was six, he’d had a crush on a girl called Sand. That night, a six- and five-year-old Reed and Raindrop showed up at his window, offering to help him win Sand over.

There, the slightly airheaded Noknow, named after flightless birds that somehow gave milk. When Sandstorm was avoiding chiefly responsibilities, she’d gladly invite him inside and tell stories from her head. Just last week they’d been laughing over a couple of characters that melodramatically had fallen into the shallows of a river.

He saw Goat, the goat herder, who snuck the whole group fresh goat cheese for favors. Of all of the group, Sandstorm had most gladly made the exchange. He had no problem teaching her to write during the night as long as he got goat cheese for it! And there was Sand, who could tame and ride noknows that no one else could. The crush Sandstorm had had at six had left within a week, but that didn’t keep him from being constantly impressed with her ability as a herder.

Last was Clearwater, Sandstorm’s cousin. She hadn’t come to the bonfire. A week ago, she’d been betrothed to a future chief of the Eastern Desert people. Those people worshiped the dawn, so Clearwater was only allowed outside during that time so she could learn to feel and love it. Sandstorm couldn’t visit her at all, since, as the chief’s son, he was full of the power and spirituality of the sun.

Chief Rain noticed Sandstorm’s longing glances at his old friends, but he did a good job hiding it. Sandstorm only knew that he did because he was clenching his jaw slightly. The Chief led Sandstorm into the diplomat hut and pulled him to the side. Under the roofs of the huts, Father Sun couldn’t see or hear them.

“You must be careful,” Chief Rain said, “In time, you will be dancing to Mother Moon as the next chief of the Western Forest. Never let Father Sun see you dance. Let him believe that you only wear Mother Moon around your neck. Don’t let him see she is in your heart as well.“

“Dad, what if she isn’t?” Sandstorm asked, “What if I can’t let her in like Father Sun?”

Chief Rain smiled.

“I asked the same to my dad, among the people of the Cactus Forest. We worshiped Brother Eagle. I thought I could never let anyone else in. Now I have no room for Brother Eagle.”

In response, Sandstorm turned to gaze at the sunbeams streaming in through the windows of the hut.