The Gifted One presented Mpho with the same woolgathering of contentment. The past in all it's boundless splendour. The seven tribes of her race, safe, alive, free — in an enchanted cage that barricaded themselves from the humans and the primals.
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Mootlakeng didn't have much in comparison to the other provinces simply because the Racaans weren't concerned with material things. They calculated wealth via the currency of eternal compassion. An inhalation and exhalation of pure love like oxygen and carbon dioxide. Milk, sugar, honey and wine were plentiful, fostering the sweetness that resided in every age from young to old.
Mpho took herself back to those trivial games her twin cousins partook in with the others. Women were passing by with baskets of food on their heads as the children jumped on the massive Magi mushrooms that flung them up in the air, in tune with their jumping dance.
Neosa, at eight years of age, started the word play game.
"What am I?" She asked as she hopped like a rabbit.
"A hopper," Dinhle replied.
"What do cows eat?" Neosa asked.
"Grass," Thato answered.
"So call me grasshopper!" Neosa called upon the grasshoppers that flew past.
The children clapped, signalling for Genesia to begin the next round.
Genesia hopped off from a Magi mushroom, took a stick and drew something. He pointed at it.
"A cross!" Thatso exclaimed.
Genesia walked over the cross.
The children frowned.
"Crossing?" Abena gestured.
Genesia made a close but not quite gesture with his fingers. "Crossover."
The children audibly groaned.
Mpho, fourteen years of age, chuckled to herself as she surveyed overhead, holding onto a kite that flew in circles. She was chirping to the birds as the men knocked them out of the sky with slingshots for food. They prayed, thanking them for the nutrition.
Mpho stopped chirping to the remainder once a sufficient amount was collected. She didn't sprout her lightning bird wings. She suppressed her abilities at all times, devoting herself religiously to her intense training sessions with her mother, aunty, and all the other stellar crafters.
She heard a few of her friends making bird noises at her, switching from watching the twins to watching her as they walked across the stone bridges.
Mpho fluttered her eyelashes in their direction, counting the three that waved at her. She would bed them individually when nightfall came and not a time sooner. So she left them dry by not waving back. They got the message, evident when Danso, who was nearly seven foot tall, dropped the large pots of water in his hands and pretended to be fried to a crisp by her cold display. He rolled his eyes to the back of his skull and started twitching, which only made the warrior's muscles ripple like waves.
Just for that, Mpho decided that she would bed him last. It's what he deserved.
"You see this?" Neosa's unmistakable voice reached her ears. The children had gotten down to the grass. Their arms were linked as they formed a circle with the twins in the center of attention.
"Mmm. A straw." Likem took a straw and placed it in between his teeth.
"What is Gene eating?" Neosa looked pointedly at her twin who was chewing on a red fruit like a cow.
YOU ARE READING
Finding Contentus
FantasyWhat does it mean to Find Content? This is the question that Genesia, for "New Beginnings" and Neosa, for "One Sanctuary", seek to answer. As identical twins, and as survivors of their gifted race of supernatural humans known as Racaans. In one da...
