The Lost Tribe: Maliha the Wanderer (Book 1)

Energy

Tears glided down Maliha's cheeks at the overwhelming feeling that filtered throughout her being as the Ishanu gifted her with its light. She could feel the threads of life that tied the tribe together. They were the same threads that had begun to wind themselves around her soul like the coiling branches that made up this peaceful cocoon of ancestral spirituality.

It was pulling her in.

Tying her to this place, to these people.

The Ishanu called her.

She felt at peace, as if her life finally made sense.

She wanted to lay in the Ishanu forever. To fall to her stomach and rest her heart on the roots at the bed of the Great Tree. To press her heart into the earth and feel its vibrations travelling through her body.

She didn't want to leave this utopia. This place where ancestors touched her shoulders and filled her being with so much knowledge and hope. She belonged here.

The thought reverberated in her mind, the world tuning out as nothing but her belonging in The Ishanu, filtered so strongly through her mind and flowed into her being.

A delicate smile parted her lips as she sat in prostration at the roots of the Great Tree. Her fingers spread as she felt the tiny movement gliding over her. Her hands shook as the energy strummed through the tips of fingers, kissing along her palm as the deep green beneath her pulsed.

"Maliha"

Her name carried on the wind, whipping around her and ghosting over her skin.

"Maliha"

Maliha's eyes glided closed as the call beckoned her and when they reopened her world had altered. She was alone in The Ishanu. It's opulent lighting, dancing around her as the Great Tree swayed and sung its aching tune around her. The bark shifted and the roots buried deep into the ground, coiled along the warm earth.

As Maliha's eyes tilted up at the sunless sky a figure appeared before her.

Emerging from the Great Tree.

Skin as dark as the sunless sky, hair as pale as the glimmering moon and lips as soft as the petal of a rose. With withered hands, the woman stepped before Maliha, her fingers dancing in the luminous light of The Ishanu.

Her aged body swayed to a tuneless song as she slowly approached Maliha. Up close Maliha could see all the fine lines that made up her withered face and spoke of her long life and wisdom.

Her delicate fingers touched Maliha's cheek as she brought her face closer, tilting Maliha's face as the elderly lady looked deeply into Maliha's eyes. She did not say anything. For a long time, all she did was hold Maliha's face and stare seemingly into Maliha.

Her skin smelled of burning sage, incense and dirt. The damp and earthy scent of dirt, not the unclean type but the rich and soil like smell that came from the earth. She smelled like nature, of home and of peace, if peace had a scent.

The soothing smell wafted off of her skin and eased Maliha as the elderly woman's eyes began to glimmer with an incomprehensible emotion.

A stray tear glided down her face and onto Maliha's cheeks as her dampened lips pressed to Maliha's head. A soft chant whispered from her mouth and then as fast as she came, the elderly woman disappeared in a cloud of shimmering gold and opulent light.

Maliha released a sharp gasp as consciousness reclaimed her mind, yanking her from the calming trance she had been sucked into, and forcing her back into the world.