April — The Return of the Thunderbirds
There had never been a more beautiful spring. The forests and the valleys were bursting with flowers, with all the enthusiasm of nature returning to life, as if nature itself was rejoicing at the sight of the Twins, and they returned its affection by not wanting to be away from its midst for even a second.
The Great Hall of the Hearth was abandoned for the time being, in order to explore the glory of nature’s renewal, so unbelievably lavish and joyful. The Twins were learning quickly, curious about everything, and determined to leave their mark upon the world. The nature of the stone carvings in the Great Hall was thus revealed, a little less mysterious than Aifa first thought, of course. She was looking for cryptic meaning in what, it turned out, was the Twins’ equivalent of drawing on the walls or scribbling on furniture. They were very enthusiastic about it, too, and the old stone building became much richer in enigmatic stone carvings in the process.
Anyway, that afternoon Aifa and the Twins were out on the daffodil meadow, which Ama and Jal seemed to be particularly fond of, when all of the sudden the sky grew dark and shook with rumblings. Any other children would have run for the hills, screaming their lungs out, but not the Twins, who looked mesmerized towards the horizon, as if they have been waiting for this particular event their entire existence. Covering the horizon, gigantic and proud, their wingspan the width of a mountain, their feathers and scales the color of fire, their mighty cries a deafening rumble, the thunderbirds had returned.
Their first rumble, like a slow rolling thunder, had brought everybody out of the city, running to welcome the return of the glorious birds, which flew, majestically, over the city, like they did every year, to cheers of joy and waves of ribbons in every color of the rainbow. The thunderbirds had returned!
According to the old legend, the mighty birds, whose powerful talons could easily carry a castle, arrived each spring to bring people the thunder, and the first true downpour of summer. When they flapped their wings, large sparks ignited the clouds, releasing their charge to the thirsty ground in thunderbolts as thick as ropes. Their arrival signaled to all the birds and animals that it was safe to return and populate the hills and valleys, and rebuild their burrows and nests in the forest.
They were powerful and dangerous, the Birds of Thunder, with the power to give life and the power to take it away, but fiercely protective of the city of Cré and its inhabitants; this doting had secured them a prominent place on the city’s crest, and turned them into a symbol.
The Twins were beyond themselves with glee, running across the daffodil meadow, with their long hair flowing behind them and spreading out in the winds, and Aifa thought they looked like they were trying to take flight themselves and join the gigantic flock overhead, all fire and rumble, which spread out as far as the eyes could see.
Everybody knew that the thunderbirds brought with them a downpour, and didn’t mind it in the least. In fact, it was considered very lucky to stand outside and be drenched by the first torrential rain of summer, a custom many of the young people, especially, liked to participate in. Water was the most incredible gift nature lavished upon the people of Cré, and they revered it in every form, whether it came from the sky, like it did right now, or bounced down from the mountains, snaking between boulders.
Many people considered the thunderbirds the spirits of their ancestors, who had come back to clean and renew the earth and the waters, and they welcomed them with sprinklings of seeds to attract good luck for the harvest.
The mighty downpour came and left as suddenly as it began. It traveled in the wake of the thunderbirds, whose enormous flock was now far away on the other horizon, over the sea. The rain trailed behind them like a veil, blurring them from sight. People could still distinguish their shapes through the thick cloud cover, if only as luminous contours when their fiery scales ignited the clouds, glowing diffusely farther and farther into the distance.
“Now, that was a sight to behold!”
Aifa’s grandmother whispered in her granddaughter’s ear. The latter didn’t know when her grandmother had joined the crowd, but by the look of her, it must have been after the deluge had ceased, since her clothes were perfectly dry.
“We need to get you out of those wet rags, granddaughter, before you catch a cold. Come, quickly, your ancestors would not be happy if you caught a cold on their special day.”
“Why can we see them only one day a year, doyenne?”
“They are migratory birds, just passing through.”
“They never seem to return in the fall,” Aifa observed.
“They must have another route then. Have you ever seen a creature so majestic? Some people swear they saw them up close and they have fiery scales, like dragons. They say the thunderbirds can pick up a ship in their talons, and carry it all the way across the sea,” grandmother said in a voice that sounded almost dreamy. “That’s quite a lineage we’ve got to live up to.”
“You don’t really believe they are our ancestors, do you?” Aifa asked, doubtful.
“It is never wise to dismiss things just because they don’t conform to what you think you know. There is so little we know about the nature of life, where it comes from, where it goes after our bodies die. Who is to say that they don’t choose to inhabit these magnificent birds, if only for a while, if they can. Who is to say that the thunderbirds are not our superiors in every way? Just because we can’t understand their language, that doesn’t mean they don’t speak to us. One has to be blessed with the gift in order to understand the messages of the spirits, very few of us are able to do that.”
“Can you?” Aifa asked.
“Sadly, no, child,” grandmother replied, her voice a little sad. “It doesn’t run in my blood, the gift. When it does, the entirety of nature speaks to you, the birds, the plants, the animals, the earth, the water and the sky. They speak to you in the voice of the spirit, without words, just through a knowing deep inside your soul. People who were born with the gift can’t really explain to the rest of us what it feels like, much like a seeing person would have trouble describing a beautiful painting to the blind.”
“Would you have liked to?” Aifa asked, curious.
“Dearly! Think about it, if you could know what it felt like to be a bird, or a plant, wouldn’t you want to?” grandmother replied eagerly. “Ama and Jal always have the gift, maybe you have better luck than I understanding them when they are trying to describe it.”
“The Twins?” Aifa asked surprised.
“Certainly,” grandmother confirmed. “They are, after all, personifications of nature. Wouldn’t it be strange if they didn’t speak its language?”
“Do you think the thunderbirds were speaking to Ama and Jal, announcing their arrival? I thought it was a little odd that the Twins didn’t seem rattled by that terrible rumble. Children are often fearful of lightning and thunder, those two ran towards the thunderstorm like it was their mother.”
“Maybe it is, who is to know?” grandmother said thoughtfully. “Come, granddaughter, you are shivering. Your mother will give me the third degree if you get the chills.”
“But what about the Twins, doyenne?” Aifa asked, concerned. The two didn’t show any sign that they were willing to return, and she knew it was going to be a monumental task to convince them to leave.
“I’m so pleased to see you are taking your symbolic maternal responsibilities so seriously. Your mother couldn’t be prouder! All the Caretakers are here, one of them is bound to persuade the Twins to return to the Hearth. Stomp your feet and wrap my shawl around you, child, your lips are turning blue.”
“Well,” Aifa’s mother said. “Now that the first lightning and thunder have visited us, we don’t have to worry about the frosts anymore. People must be relieved.”
Aifa’s mother surprised her sometimes. She could be very practical in her daily life, in stark contrast with her contemplative nature.
“You can plant your seeds now, daughter. The weather will be kind to them.”
“Yes, it will,” Aifa answered. “Mother,” she started.
“What is it, Aifa?”
“Did the Twins ever explained to you how they talk to the plants and the birds?”
“A few times,” her mother smiled.
“And did you understand them?” Aifa asked, eyes shining with curiosity.
Her mother paused for a moment before answering. They were standing in the middle of the sun room, a place that, over the winter, served to house her mother’s cold tender plants. The latter hadn’t had a chance to move them outdoors yet, and the place looked like a little tropical forest. Her mother turned to one of the plants, to pick off a leaf that had started to yellow, and Aifa could swear that she saw the plant extend its leaves, as if it wanted to caress her caring fingers. She had never paid attention to her mother’s love of plants before, it seemed to be nothing more than a hobby, and not a very interesting one at that. All around, on shelves, on the floor, hanging from the rafters, were countless containers of lush green plants. Her mother knew their names, their qualities, their stories, their medicinal properties, their quirks and their preferences. She could bring an almost dead plant back to life, and sometimes Aifa thought she could strengthen and restore them with just the touch of her fingers. When the weather was nice, her mother was always in the garden, lost in thought, in a world of her own, contemplating the beauty of nature. She was often so far away into this world of hers that Aifa had to shake her to get her attention.
“Are you feeling chilly, daughter? Let me make you a hot cup of tea,” her mother started immediately, suddenly worried about the side effects of her child getting caught in the rain.
She started the kettle and walked around the sun room, picking a leaf here, a stem there, until she gathered a tiny bundle, no bigger than the palm of her hand. No two cups of herbal tea her mother made were ever alike, she blended herbs according to what the situation dictated, a mix for relaxation, a mix to chase away a cold, a mix to lift the spirits.
“Always use fresh herbs if you can, daughter. They are so much better than dried.”
She steeped the little bundle in the boiling water and picked up a cup and saucer painted with poppies and periwinkle, Aifa’s favorite, to pour the tea in. It tasted like lemon and pepper, with a hint of mint and incense, and it soothed Aifa into a somewhat drowsy state, pleasant and warm.
Before she fell asleep, the girl realized that her mother never answered her question, but she was curled up in bed under a soft blanket and she felt cozy and warm, and she fell asleep hoping to dream about the thunderbirds, vowing to remember the details of where they were going. Her mother noticed she had fallen asleep and brought one more blanket to cover her daughter, since the latter was still curled up in a little knot to keep herself warm; she then left the room, closing the door behind her, so that the noises of the house would not wake up her child before she’d gotten a chance to rest.
That night Aifa had a wonderful dream. She dreamed that she was flying, carried on the back of one of those magnificent birds, one that was so large that the girl could shield herself from the cold with one of their downy feathers like with a large blanket. She flew so high up in the blue sky, looking at the rain beneath, that she felt like a ray of sunshine herself, bouncing off the fiery feathers.
She dreamed that she was one of the thunderbirds as well, and that she knew where they were going, but she couldn’t remember a thing upon waking up.
