Wahmenitu is in the river. In the sea. In the rain. In the water you drink.
She sat in the grass, Wahmenitu rippling past. She began to experience the physical world with intense, heightened perception; this new skin has never touched such things. The slender, green leaves beneath her palms are rubbery, and each blade feels unique. While she can discern every subtle variation in the air currents, she remains warm. Natural elements cannot harm her now. The sun will never burn her skin; the ice will never freeze her flesh.
In the beginning…
It has always been the beginning.
Once was lost…
Not lost. Not forgotten. Just waiting.
Who are you?
Who am I?
Her true name causes the high winds to push the days forward. Clouds become a mass until there is just a blanket, a comforter, in the sky. Atahensic looked into this simgular cloud and is homesick.
Wahmenitu sang a sings which was part sorrow and part joy. The river spirit knows her moment here is through. One moment on the land; one moment in the sky. The cycle must continue. She is going home.
It is time to go.
I’m ready now.