A cold wind blew hard over the
open prairie, mixing the loose snow and sand into snow-snakes that slithered
silently across the landscape. Prairie dogs watched the skies nervously as the
sentinel’s bark warned of danger from above, and when they spotted the owl,
they retreated into their homes. The large owl paid no attention to the
tempting offering of food they represented, as its dinner already dangling from
its talons, but made a threatening pass just the same, then glided effortlessly
along the hillside until it found its home in the trees.
Snow dusted the top of the rocky
outcrop that was the roof of the cave that housed the three sisters. No sound
escaped past the stone door that kept them safely hidden from view, and no light
leaked through the tiny fractures in the earth that protected the sisters from
recognition. However, they were there, they were awake, and they were viewing
the path this Chosen One was taking. Gathered around the large amethyst geode with
its hollowed-out core, they watched the sketchy scenes of the future unfold.
“See, look there, Lenora, look,”
Isadora prodded. “Oh, she so loves her mate.” She was a fat, little woman with
gray hair that she always wore in a tight bun, and round-rimmed glasses, which
perched precariously on the tip of her nose. Isadora championed the Chosen
Ones. She relished with pride whenever one was born, whenever a Chosen One
succeeded in stopping evil from progressing and taking hold in both the magical
and the human realms.
“What’s the matter with her?” Esadora spewed.
“She has only taken two of the five males she knows of…why doesn’t she bed them
now and be done with this silly nonsense—and what of the other two? Why has she
wasted time and not found them?” Esadora wasn’t the least bit fond of the
Chosen Ones, yet while that was true, she still held the prophecy in high
regard.
Isadora and Esadora were
identical twins, and the only way you could tell them apart was by the moles on
their faces. Isadora’s mole was on her right cheek while Esadora’s was on her
left.
Their older sister Lenora was a tall,
willowy, pencil-faced woman. She was neither pro nor con with regard to the
Chosen Ones. The prophecies were the prophecies, and she took them in stride.
“There is nothing wrong with her.
She will know them when she sees their hues. Give her time.” Isadora
proclaimed. “She loves her clan, and they do
love her. So romantic…look! See, Sisters? Oh, that one is special to her.”
Isadora swooned as the picture changed again, “Oh my, look at the aurora around
her and her intended. I do not think I have ever seen an aurora so brilliant.”
“Humph!” Esadora
grumbled. “She’s going to waste her heart on just one.”
“Not just one, Esadora,” Lenora
spoke softly as she busied herself lighting candles and incense, letting the
soothing vapors fill their earthen dwelling. “She has her companions who love
her deeply, but only one will fill her soul. Only one, but she will love the
others strongly.” She gathered the supplies she needed to look into this Chosen
One’s fate. For thirty-two years, they have performed this ritual, and each
time they saw something change. As they watched the child grow, they saw her
happiness and her sadness; at other times, they saw the pain she would endure.
The three sisters gathered around
the table and recited the ritual words they had been chanting those thirty-two
years. “Oh holy Mother of the earth, our protector. Guide my hands and my mind.
Let me speak the meanings of these stones.”
Lenora shook a small cup that
held black stones with figures etched into them and dumped them on the red
satin cloth before her. She picked the ones that fell face up and read their
meanings. She frowned, took another cup filled with tiny animal bones, and shook
it as she muttered softly under her breath, then turned the cup over onto the
satin cloth. As she slowly removed the cup, she took note of the way the
bleached bones lay and read their meanings. Her frown deepened.
“What is it, Sister?” Isadora
whispered. “How bad?”
“Pain, I know that look Isadora,
Lenora sees pain, a year of pain.” Esadora gave a wicked little laugh as she
watched her twin frown. “Oh, cheer up. She’s supposed to be the strong one.
Let’s see just how strong she is!” Esadora gloated.
“I do not just see pain this
time, Esadora.” Lenora said.
“Tell us, Sister. What do the
bones say?” Isadora asked.
“Many paths have appeared, but
only one is correct. So far, she has stayed the course, but there is a dark
cloud hanging over her.” She pointed to three bones that fell as a triangle.
“The sixth is found, but is not true, another must take the place, or else the
prophecy is doomed.”
Isadora and Esadora gasped.
“No! The prophecy must remain true,”
Esadora said. “What must we do, Sister?”
“All we can do is pray she is
strong Esadora—we must not interfere.” Lenora blew out the candles and stuffed
the burning tip of the incense into the sand pot, collected all her magical
stones and bones and put them away. “Now then Sisters, are we ready to go into
the night? We have our list for the herbs, roots, and berries we need to
restock our supplies. Do you think we could look for a different selection of meat
for our stew tonight? Owl stew is getting old.”
Isadora and Esadora nodded in
agreement.
Each sister silently thought of
their own plans for the night as they donned their thick bearskin coats, each
carrying a wicker basket. The large stone door slowly rolled away from the
entrance as the women neared. The heavy scraping sound was the only indication
as to just how heavy this stone was, but after the women stepped outside, Lenora
used the lightest touch as she waved her hand and the stone rolled back into
place.
As the three sisters walked the
footpath to the prairie floor, their appearance changed into tall, dark
beauties no man could resist.
“Happy hunting Sisters,” Lenora
called as she raised her hand and took flight into the darkness of the northern
night.
Isadora winked at her twin. “I’ll
see you in the morning Sister, good luck.”
Isadora
raised her hand and took the easterly course while Esadora laughed her wicked
sensual laugh, and headed west.