She awoke to the first rays of dawn.
A sense of calm and melancholy settled in her chest. The woman blinked, awareness returning, as she watched the golden light spill across the land.
She basked in the warmth, feeling it’s caress. Sharply inhaling the crisp morning air, she felt it’s coolness nip her lungs. Though the night held a distinctive beauty far more ethereal than the day, the stars were incapable of sharing what little warmth they had. The remaining strip of light, now a bracelet wrapped around her wrist, was the only thing that kept the chill at bay.
Time seemed still. The bare land before her, the quiet of the world, the stillness. A sudden gloom crept into her heart as she watched the sun rise.
Was she the only one with skin to feel warmth?
The only one that could see the stars?
The only being that felt? That smelled and moved at will?
Was she…?
She swiftly stood up and briskly paced towards the clay mound that towered over her. With controlled force, the woman sunk a hand into the mound and dug out a handful of reddish brown clay. It was dry, powdery in the way it sifted between her fingers. It wouldn’t hold.
The woman scanned the surrounding ground. Pebbles. Rocks with dull edges. Rocks that were too large. Then she found a jagged stone.
Gritting her teeth, the woman sliced the raw and crusted flesh of her arm. The injuries from last night were still healing, and opened cleanly without protest.
Ignoring the throbbing pain, she let the blood flow unbridled and gathered another handful of clay. Then another. And another. Soon, a small dune of clay sat before her feet. Once satisfied with the amount, she began mixing it with her blood.
First were bears. Then came deer and rabbits. Wolves were next and she moulded life into other woodland creatures of varying forms and temperament. All fled, for her blood contained her fear, and such feeling had been instilled into them.
Undeterred, she dug more clay and came across a vein of jewels; rubies, emeralds, diamonds and more. With small balls of clay, she made heads. With a similar amount she made thin clay sticks for legs and antennas. Sticking them onto the jewels, she etched patterns into the glittering rocks. With her breath came the winds, and the existence of insects.
Though beautiful, they were limited in understanding. Containing little of their creator’s life force, they went about their meagre lives on pure instinct. Forlorn, she let them go.
Determined, she moulded more animals. Jaguars, boars, and elephants. Lions, leopards, and antelopes. She made many more creatures, each less fearful. Still, they remained cautious at best. Still, they kept their distance. Her creations kept a watchful eye on her, knowing that the barren land would not conceal them from her.
A fire raged within her eyes. Her initial helplessness slowly drowned. Her dirt ingrained hands shook as she hunched over her remaining clay. She couldn’t breath. The air suddenly stifling. Her chest constricted. She let out a shaky breath. The earth shook. Her creations flinched. The land held it’s breath.
Then a voice from behind.
ns 15.158.61.8da2
