Count Your Many Blessings (short story)

A glimmer of magic raced over Yukito's skin as he raced through the shielding branches of the trees. He felt eyes on him from above, and all around, but their regard only lingered for moments more before vigilantly shifting once more toward the ever-shifting tapestry of life within the forest. His steps slowed as he walked along the lightly-trodden paths, his footsteps not as delicate to the blades of grass beneath his feet, but mindful to not trample or be disruptive lest be be scolded for being clumsy or disrespectful.

As he moved along, he occasionally reached out a hand and brushed his fingers across someone's arm, or tugged lightly at a sleeve; nods answered his quiet greetings, or he received touches or embraces in return. Often enough, he was met with someone's back, or a tall and slender figure would subtly turn their body away as he approached, their eyes looking past him. He would move by these people without attempting to offer a glance or a touch, as they were not precisely shunning him; if there was a need, he could speak with them properly, but he was not being extended kinship. It was simply how things were as he did not properly belong to a D'ahranal, and thus, truly fit in.

The smell of roasting meat and squash drew him from his very brief musing, and a smile spread across his lips. A fairly uncommon sight greeted him in the middle of the clearing. Usually any fires in the forest were kept small, but this was in celebration of Imeara's bounty across the lands. Everyone had apparently been busy, and were giving gifts from their forays in the wild. Nothing was to be wasted, and so all of the furs, and feathers, meat, berries, and bone were being either used for the gathering, or had been made into extravagant gifts. Some had also been set aside for trade so that those of the Lassaran that made their way back could carry them far and wide.

The harvest celebration did not happen every year, and it signaled that the group was ready to find a new settlement. It was the one celebration that Yukito was careful to attend, so that he could remain close to his mother. A head of golden blonde hair emerged from behind a tree and the woman in question tapped his shoulder. He laughed aloud and threw his arms around her waist, getting an embrace in return. Then she nudged him back and looked him up and down.

"You are returned home, my child. Allow me to gaze on you. You have grown, and it seems that you have been in training!"

Used to the cadence of speech among the Sylvan people, Yukito nodded along, and only grimaced slightly as his mother poked at his arms and his sides.

"Yes, mother. I have people that I spend time with, working to get stronger. There is a man named Guarrin that has been teaching me sword forms, as well."

His mother nodded along for a moment, staring at him silently until he began to fidget. "I see. I am content that you have been improving. We will spar before you return to your port town." Before he had a chance to do more than blink, she continued, "Your thoughts can sometimes be heard very far and wide, yes? Rumors as well. I would like to know more about what you were doing --"

Before she could complete that sentence, and make Yukito's face go any more shades of pale, a chorus of cheerful bird whistles went of around the campfire. Relief all over his face, Yukito turned his chin up to the sky and added his own tune, skillfully imitating the call of a wren, before hurrying in that direction and making brisk hand to mouth gestures over his shoulder toward his mother - silently indicating a need for food. She didn't look impressed, but she followed.

The evening was cheerful, and there was cider, mead and ale to go along with the meal. Stories were told until the clear night sky as the leaves rustled softly in the smoke-laden breeze. When things wound down a bit, a new soft of tension rode the air, and everyone stood up to clear away the remains of the food and merriment. A soft hush settled over the crowd.

Everyone drew out pouches and sachets, holding them reverently in their hands. An older woman nodded her head, holding a plump leather pouch in her palm. She looked pleased with herself, and had soft smile lines around her mouth and eyes, "We prepare to move on with our journey, saying goodbye to the trees that sheltered us, so that the land may be replenished, and be able to sustain us anew in the future. As we humbly go forth to seek new skies, we will be thankful to the soil that will enrich us, and to the forests that will protect us."

Lifting her pouch with both hands, she raised her voice slightly over the crackle of the fire, "In the time that we have resided here, we task ourselves to remember what we have learned, and where we started from. It is easy to set your sights on the future, and strive for that next goal - the next summit. In doing so, we often forget to look back at what was achieved, the people that helped us along the way, and the obstacles that we faced to be where and who we are now. In this moment, we honor the people that we were, respect our current journey, and prepare to face the future with clear eyes.

Without a moment's hesitation, she tossed her little pouch into the fire, sending up a swirl of sparks.

"We honor and accept the past, so that we may stride forward."

One by one, everyone threw their sachets into the fire, allowing them time to properly catch and spark. The air came alive with a burst of slightly acrid and floral fragrances as the whole of it fair lit up the night. More alcohol was passed around, but for the most part, people turned and began to wander off to sleep. There wasn't much more talk after that, everyone seemed fairly exhausted.

The older woman stood alone by the fire, just staring silently into the flames. Yukito watched her, curious; she looked as if she had a great deal on her mind. After a moment, he turned to his mother and walked at her side toward their abode to get some rest. He would help everyone pack up properly in the morning, and then head back to Solhaven.

It was always good to visit family, though.

"Count Your Many Blessings" - Johnson Oatman Jr.