Two: Future- Solar Maximum

I come of age not when I turn eighteen, but when I get to step into the grove for the first time.  The rest of my covenant, girls I have grown with and known for my whole life, gasps when the curtains of ivy are pulled away, to be tucked behind arms of thorns. A singular strand of light runs through the hall and I feel its warmth on the nape of my neck as it passes through our group, landing gently on the crystal dew drop that hangs from the wooden ceiling.

Men and women, my people, sit on their knees, hands in their lap, facing the altar. The men take up the first few rows, emerald cushioned lily pads under their legs. The women behind them are with the soil below each of our feet.

We walk in a single file, up to the altar, an empty nest, made of nodes and internodes, around its borders dried sunflower petals, ones they have always assured us were not plucked from our great forest guardians, but fell from the sky as a blessing.

All around me are sunflowers, painted on the walls, over the branches that compose their cornices, they are stitched on the priest’s golden robe. We kneel before him, heads touching the runner, a mosaic of fallen evergreen leaves and blades of grass.

‘Children!’ He exclaims.

‘Here I am’ I reply, in unison with my sisters.