Heart in the fire

The sounds of the drums resumed their thunderous applause, punctuated by the pluckings of the leetas.

The villagers celebrated! They fed themselves of the beefur and chattered with each other joyously about the abundance of food and cheer.

Kitoyo chased Nesta around the crowds, trying to perpetrate one of his practical jokes on her while she dodged and avoided him, not wishing to become his victim.

Teacher sat by herself, tired, and held Bright of Sun.

The people had built a large bonfire which crackled and roared, and it brought light and heat as the sky fire had already begun to extinguish. Little sparks danced around at the apex of the bonfire. Dreamer watched them circle around and rise and they carried his attention with them. As his gaze followed them, he noticed that the sky flies had begun to glow. He felt a small twinge of dizziness and quickly brought his gaze back down, and looked at the fire instead.

The flames flickered around the logs and their crackling seemed to drown out the background chatter of the celebrating villagers. The pounding of the drums, the soft strains of the leetas, the snaps and the crackles of the fire seemed to be carrying on their own private conversation. A conversation that almost made sense to Dreamer. The flames curled and straightened; they flexed according to some internal rhythm of their own. They danced with the shadows they threw, with a mad, wild abandon. They had their own tricks they wished to play on any watching eye; but no eyes were watching - except Dreamer's.

The interplay between the flames, the shadows, and the shapes of the burning wood suggested an image. Dreamer saw the image of his markings. The markings appeared to be etched on the logs themselves.

The heat from the fire bathed Dreamer's face as he sought to discern the images. He thought of the real markings, those that he had etched all over his yard where there was plenty of room for them. The illusion in the flames suggested that his entire system of markings were represented there, etched into the logs. Somehow, the logs seemed to be large enough, wide enough, plenty enough, numerous enough to represent his entire system of markings. And yet, there was more. The background chatter of the feasting villagers grew in volume, though it became no more distinct. A hundred conversations at the same time, a hundred lives being lived out, and as each conversation progressed, as each phrase was spoken, the line of markings that appeared etched in the logs grew longer, and as the fire consumed the log and broke it into a piece no longer than Dreamer's foot, yet still that piece was large enough to contain all of the markings and all the conversations and all the lives of the villagers. And in that burning log, as small as his foot and yet at the same time so vast as to contain so much, in the center of it was his heart, and it was burning.

That small log burned in the center of the roaring bonfire. The bonfire stood higher than he himself stood, yet somehow... it was not big enough. Yes, it made sense now. The large bonfire definitely could not contain the small log. The fire encircled everything, much like the village encircled everything. But the fire encircled illusion and empty space, while the log encompassed... everything.

"Dreamer, surely you have earned your name," Speaker laughed loudly and clasped his shoulder.

"Speaker," Dreamer acknowledged him, feeling disoriented.