TWEEN & TWIXT

Suddenly, from everywhere, everything, and all of reality came a great rumbling. A low and continuous roar

coursed throughout every mortal and eternal soul, in every dark and light place, in known and unknown existence.

The ground shook and the air began to sweat. The puzzle-piece clouds above furrowed their brow into an angry

sweep of purple haze. It was early morning. Mother Moon struggled to see through the fog.

Young Twixt had fallen asleep under the willow tree again. The wet branches slumped above her, dew drops

landing on her thigh-length jet black hair and soft cheeks. She opened her black eyes, rolled over and lay on her

side. Noticing the grass all around her she started playing with some of the wet grass blades, twisting them around

her fingers.

Lightning struck in the distance and she jolted straight up, open eyes reflecting the violet electricity.

She brushed a finger against the wolf fang dangling from her neck and ran inside to her brother,

“Tween, wake up; it’s time!”

She threw the warm deerskin blanket off his back and shook him furiously. “Come on, I’m serious! I can’t believe it’s here, oh Spirits, I’m ready!”

“Twixt, I’m sleeping, I just went to bed. Why is your hair so wet?”

“I was talking to Mother Turtle and fell asleep.”

Her brother chuckled and threw an arm over his face. Twixt grinned and bent down to whisper in his ear. “Brother,

you’ve been asleep for 300 years, I think it’s time to get up now.”

“Oh Gods, Twixt,” he groaned, “this better not be another one of your tricks.”

He rubbed his eyes, slowly rose from his deer skin sleeping roll and looked up to the purple sky while gently

pushing his toes into the wet ground. He turned to his sister and asked, “Did you do this?”

With feigned hurt feelings, Twixt denied having anything to do with the events now foretold by the angry sky. “No,

not this time, promise! We’re being called to by them. It is time.” Twixt set her back straight and puffed her chest

out. She frowned, bent down and stuck her fingers in the black mud of the river bank. With her blackened fingers

she made two marks, one on each cheek, and then made a ferocious growl.

“What on earth are you doing?” asked her twin brother.

“This is what they do when they go to war, I believe. Ooh all of that bloodshed. It gives me goosebumps. It stains the river stones.