The snow came down heavy and thick. The following morning when Priya opened their front door, the snow was up to her knee caps. She laughed in delight, scooping up a handful and forming it into a ball before putting it to her lips to taste.

Walking the short distance to the fire, Priya picked up the iron pot and carried it back to the door. Using the morning’s light she inspected it to make sure it was clean, and then dipped it into the snow, filling it with as much snow as she could.

Closing the door, Priya returned to the fire, setting the pot next to the ashes, the rocks still carrying much of the fire’s heat. Going to the woodbox, Priya grabbed another log, careful not to lodge a splinter in her fingers or underneath a nail, and placed it on the fire. The embers cracked and sparked causing tiny elements of flame to trickle up through the chimney.

Priya pulled on deerskin breeches and shirt over her linens. Sitting down on her bed, she slipped on her elkhide boots; thick, warm leather that quickly removed the chill from her bare toes. Reaching under her mattress, Priya pulled out a pair of wool-lined mittens.

Walking to Aaron and Anissa’s bed, Priya pulled back their curtain.

Aaron groaned, burying himself further underneath the fur blankets. “Mother’s Mercy, it's cold outside.”

“There is fresh water heating up at the fire. I am going to care for the animals and then go to Tohki’s for the day’s work.”

“Don’t worry about the animals today,” Aaron said. “I will care for them once I have dug a path to the barn.”

“Thank you, Papai.” Priya looked to the other mound in their bed. “Mamae, do you need anything?”

Anissa pulled the furs down, exposing her face. She blinked in the morning light, her eyes finding and focusing on Priya. “Not this morning, dear one. Enjoy your work.”

“Aye, Anissa,” Priya replied. “I will.”

She slipped on the mittens and grabbed her cloak that hung by the door, fastening it around her shoulders. Opening the door, she stepped up and out and into the deep snow, losing her balance for a brief moment. Reaching back to shut the door, Priya found that it had swung inward too far and could no longer pull it shut.

“Papai!” she called. “Can you shut the door, please?”

“Eusou’s balls,” muttered Aaron as he stood up, quickly crossing the distance from his bed to the door. “Love you, be well,” he said before he closed it.

Priya straightened, looking out at the surrounding mountains. Every winter, for as long as she could recall, there was always this moment after the first snow where she was breathless at the wonder and beauty that surrounded her.

The mountains that had only yesterday been a mixture of grays and browns were now of the purest white. It shimmered in the sunlight, lighting up the vale like it was the surface of the moon.

The branches of the trees bowed under the weight of the snow, humbling something that had once stood so proudly.

The lake was blanketed with snow, but Priya knew how deceiving it could be. Only a thin layer of ice had formed so far that winter. Even now she could see spots where snow and water had met, creating a gray ugly slush.

The village itself looked magical; each house blanketed with snow and smoke rising from each chimney. It reminded Priya of the white capped mushrooms she had harvested that autumn with Tohki; the brown wood structures, much like the mushrooms’ stems.

Stepping high, Priya walked as best she could to the village. Even with the thick boots and mittens, Priya began to feel cold, her toes and fingers tingling by the time she reached Tohki’s hovel.

Priya thumped on the door with her fist and heard Tohki call her inside. Opening the door, Priya carefully stepped inside, trying her best not to cascade the deep snow into Tohki’s home.

Tohki sat by the fire, a thick blanket wrapped around her for added warmth.

Removing her boots and mittens, Priya carried them over to the fire, setting them down so they could dry out. She stood next to the fire, letting her toes hover over the rocks while dangling her fingers. Eventually the tingling stopped and she sat down next to Tohki.

“What will you teach today, Tohki?” Priya asked.

Tohki is quiet for a while and then sighed. “I am tired, child.”

“I can hear that, Tohki.”

“Every winter when it first snows, I am reminded how old I am. My shoulders ache. My back and hips do too.”

Priya moves behind her and begins to rub and knead Tohki’s shoulders the way that she was taught, attuning her movements and pressure to Tohki’s slow, deep breaths.

“I am glad you chose the Path of The Crone,” Tohki whispered into the silence. “There were many years I wondered if I would be the last.”

Priya is quiet for a moment, measuring her words. “What would have happened if I didn’t chose this path?”

“When I passed away, giving my body to Terra, my knowledge would have passed away with me. Not all of it. Many of the women in the village know my little tricks: the teas to cure a cough or break a fever, how to sew a wound, how to aid in troubled births. But it wouldn’t have been enough. Even with my help every year our community grows smaller. I wonder how long we have left in the vale.”

“I’ll do what I can to help our community thrive, Tohki.”

“That is not what I mean. I have been The Crone for nearly fifty winters. I have seen the vale when it was healthy; hundreds of people all working together in harmony and peace. But now we are but a few, nearly thirty. Soon we will all pass into dust.”

“What if we left the vale? Certainly there are others on the other side of the mountain like us.”

Tohki sighed, letting the silence stretch and wane before she answered. “That is a secret that was known to the first inhabitants, but they held the secret close, not telling their kin so that when they passed on, the only one that carried that knowledge was the Crone. For generations it was passed down from Crone to Crone until I became the carrier of secrets.”

“I have taken the Path, can you not tell me?” Priya asked.

“You are but a child and you haven’t studied with me for a full turning. The crone before me didn’t whisper any secrets until I was much older than you and it wasn’t until she lay dying in her bed. You’re smart. Wise beyond your years, Priya. You have a quick mind for studying herbs, but I do not know what your mind will do with this knowledge.”

Priya rubbed Tohki’s shoulders one final time before moving to once again sit next to Tohki. “Very well. You hold onto your secrets for a bit longer, Tohki. But do not wait till you are on your deathbed to tell me.”

“That is fair,” Tohki agreed.

“What lessons do you have in store for me today?”

Tohki gazed at the fire. Reaching out, she picked up a tea cup that was staying warm on the rocks. She cupped it in her hands, smiling at the warmth. “Today’s lesson will be about staying warm.”

Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author's consent. Report any sightings.

Priya laughed, standing. “I’ll fetch some more wood.”

Tohki grabbed her arm as she passed by, pointing to the woodbox. “There is plenty. Sit, sit. Stay here and be warm.”

“Is this a lesson on the stillness?” Priya asked.

“No,” Tohki murmured. “When we tell the story of how Eusou and The Mother created Terra, how was man created?”

“Eusou pulled the first man out of the mud of the great River Alto and shaped him into his own image.”

Tohki nodded her head. “Aye. And how did The Mother create the first woman?”

“The Mother pulled the first woman out of her womb and she was already formed in The Mother’s image.”

“Very good. Why do we tell these stories of creation?”

Priya gazed across at Tohki, watching her eyes, looking for the telltale signs of teasing, which wasn’t there. “You have told me before about how God didn’t create man in his own image, but we created God in our image.”

“That is correct. But I didn’t tell you why. Why is it that we have these myths that liken our being with that of a god’s?”

Looking down at the floor, Priya turns the question over in her mind. The fire pops. Tohki sips at her tea. And Priya could feel the stillness within her humming, brimming with the answers, waiting for Priya to reach out and grasp it. “It is a reminder to us that each of us has a divine spark. If only we knew how to find it.”

Tohki nodded her head. “Yes. That is why one of the first stories children are taught is the story of our creation. It provides them with the framework early on that each of us has that light in us without all that talk about stillness and Eusou’s Love and the I Am presence. If we started there, children would run about confused, looking into the shadows within themselves, trying to find the light. And even then, most of the men and women in the village are only aware of these stories and have never touched the divine spark within each of them outside of their own passages.

“So we tell these stories of Eusou and The Mother. We tell these myths of the creation of Terra and of the first man and woman and then what?”

“We tell stories of wandering prophets and their miracles.”

“And what stories lay beneath those stories?” Tohki prods.

“What do you mean?”

“Take the story of Musa. After he led his people across the great sea at the dawn of the first son, what did he do?”

“He got lost. He wandered the mountains with his people and eventually his prayers turned to cursed and he was left alone at the top of a mountain for the birds to peck out his eyes and tongue.”

“We mostly focus on the story of his deeds: listening to the voice of Eusou and saving his people. His divine spark was lit and he blew it out, giving into doubt and despair. So many stories we tell follow this pattern: Eusou reveals himself, he helps other see the divine spark within themselves, great things happen, but then great failure also.”

“Like with Davinia,” Priya said. “The Shepherdess Queen.”

“Aye,” agreed Tohki. “Blessed by Eusou, raised from a lowly shepherdess to the High Queen of the Seven Isles, only to seek more and more power by killing all that could have taken her thrown.”

Priya understood the pattern now. “It is the same with Ilie, Sh’ma, Heskel.”

“The stories we tell are full of great promise, but end in great tragedy. As often as Eusou has revealed himself, no one has reached the full potential of the divinity sparked inside of them. Men who caught a glimmer of that spark prostrated themselves, worshiping Eusou, telling others that they, being made in the image of Eusou, were more superior than those that were not. Kingdoms rose and fell. Men fought and died in the name of Eusou, spreading across the surface of Terra, taking more and more until everything even beyond what they could see was claimed for Eusou. Eusou saw this and wept. And he stopped revealing himself to men. He was quiet for many years and a darkness spread across the land; a darkness that claimed to be Eusou, telling people how to live, who to worship, and how to worship, and the rewards they would receive if they whispered prayers in the right manner to Eusou.

“Then one day, when Eusou was walking in a faraway corner of the world, many years ago, he saw a man named Araham, sitting underneath a tree, crying softly. The man was crying because he thought that his life was subject to disease, old age, and death; that there was nothing else, but shouldn’t there ought to be? Eusou revealed himself to Araham as a flower, sprouting up from the soil beneath his feet and opening up to him. In the opening of the flower, Araham saw himself, and realized that he had been asleep to the presence of Eusou within him. He touched the stillness within and opened his consciousness to encompass all objects of knowledge and desires. He transcended his mortal body, achieving truth in the highest realm, glowing radiantly like the sun. For years, Araham, the Man of Light, walked to land, teaching others about the stillness and how to achieve enlightenment.

“Eusou was pleased and continued to walk the land, revealing himself. But the more he revealed himself, the more he saw men’s failings. Large statues of Eusou were built. Mankind stopped finding the divine spark inside them, instead turning to the external machine of power and control. Villages grew bigger and bigger. Leaders grew greedier and greedier. To enter Eusou’s LIght, people had to bow to a power outside of them.

“And Eusou wept.

“And he went away for a time, promising to The Mother never to reveal himself to man again. Years passed. The darkness in the physical plane grew. Wars were fought. Many people died. Disease spread across the land.

“The Mother heard Terra cry out to her. She saw how the land was torn asunder by the actions of man. But she saw a ray of hope in a young woman who lived far across the sea. The young woman’s name was Priya, your namesake, and she was carrying a child. A boy, though she did not know it. The Mother came to the woman in a dream and taking her by the hand, led her to the highest peak of the world where Eusou sat, watching and weeping as his creation turned on itself.

“But in the heart of Priya, Eusou saw hope. Eusou saw that his Love was already radiating in her heart and that the breath of the I Am moved through her. He helped Priya turn her gaze inward and she saw how Eusou’s love was her love and could be the love of her child.

“The child grew in her womb and when he was born, Priya began to teach him the ways of Eusou and The Mother. She let her love be an example of how to love, so that when he was old enough for Eusou to reveal himself, his heart was ready. As he grew, the boy helped the world be reborn. He pulled mankind out of the depth of darkness to new heights of light and love. He taught love of all, not love of some or love of the worthy. He taught that it was love of all things, people, creatures, Terra, the larger universe and all things in it that would bring hope and peace, banishing the darkness for eternity.

“But the darkness was strong. It corrupted the hearts of man and the boy, who had grown into a man, was put to death. Even in pain, he loved. Even at his most lonely and abandoned, he loved. Even in death and dying, he loved. And in showing that love, he opened mankind’s eyes to Love. Through his love, mankind began to see Eusou’s Light shining forth from their brothers and sisters. They gathered in darkness to pray and sing to Eusou and share stories of the man who loved.

“Yet there was power in those stories. And the people in power felt small and threatened in the wake of the man’s love. So they took the stories and the prayers and the songs and built great buildings to house and contain those works. To remember the man and pray to Eusou correctly it had to be done a certain way and people bowed to that power and Eusou’s Light was hidden once more.

“Darkness spread across the land. Many wars were fought. Great fires tore across Terra destroying all life in its wake. And it was done all in the name of this man and Eusou. Terra shook and cracked open, fire erupting and blotting out the sun for days, months, and years. The air was filled with ash and fire. And it continued until there was no one left to fight. Only a few scatterings of humanity remained and what wasn’t broken by the wars was broken by their minds as they cried out to Eusou for mercy, tearing their hair and rending their clothes.

“And Eusou wept.”

Priya sat silently, tears rolling down her cheeks. “How many times does Eusou have to weep before we learn?”

“I do not know, child,” Tohki said quietly. “People are afraid of what they do not understand and love, as pure and as freely as Eusou gives it, is terrifying. How can Eusou love a creation as flawed as mankind is? We reject the answer that has been with us since before the beginning of time. We feel small and quake in front of that love then tell ourselves that if we are not worthy, no one is. And on and on, throughout history, we repeat similar mistakes. That is my greatest fear: that we haven’t learned and one day our community will face a similar trial. But our community could very well die out before we reach that precipice.”

“What if there are more like us across the mountains?” Priya asked. “Could we cross over the pass and expand our community? Share our teachings and our prayers and our songs and bring Eusou’s Light into the world?”

“I asked that same question when I was a few years older than you, Priya. There is great risk.” Tohki sighed. “I will tell you one part of the secret.” She turned in her seat to face Priya. “Our ancestors came here when the rest of the world burned. They couldn’t breathe because of the ash in the air and they were hungry because none of their crops would grow without the sun. They packed up what few belongings they had and began to walk. Our stories talk about them crossing the great sea, but what we leave out was that it was a sea of ash and bones. They walked in and out of days for over a year, scavenging as they went. Only the strong survived. Many died along the way. But then they came across these great mountains. They might have stopped, but they didn’t. They kept walking, up and up these mountains until they reached the top and there they beheld our vale for the first time. It was paradise. The spring thaw ran clear, clean water down their slopes feeding the green of the vale. Herds of elk dotted the vale’s floor. They ran down the slope praising Eusou and fell into the lake drinking its pristine waters. They were home and they promised never to leave it, because they believed and I believe that if we did, there would be no turning back. We would lose everything that we hold dear and love here. Promise me, Priya.” Tears glistened in Tohki’s eyes. “Promise me that when I am gone, you will keep the vale safe, you will keep our community safe and whole and won’t leave.”

Priya wrapped her arms around Tohki as her teacher’s shoulders shook with deep, heart-rending sobs. When Tohki still, Priya pulled out of their embrace, taking Tohki’s hands in hers, looking deeply into her eyes. “I will keep the vale safe and our community whole. I swear on Eusou and The Mother and the I Am within me. I promise.”