So that others who might read this will gain a better understanding of my nature, I will begin by discussing my beginnings with a certain amount of levity. Much of my life beyond my early years was spent in situations where there was little humor or bouyancy, often involving literally life threatening events. It is difficult, to say the least, to discover in the midst of death and dismemberment a moment of oblivious humor in which one may laugh and be free of the burden of bloodshed. Usually, it is a time of seemingly endless nightmares and moments of pain and urgency that don't come to close soon enough. Such are the ways of war and destruction. Such have been the ways of my life.
The first part of my life was the same as any child: learning to walk, learning to run, learning not to act immediately upon my curiosity lest I harm myself, irritate my parents, or irritate those who lived and worked there- those who also served as elders, teachers, and mentors as I grew. Despite the general normalcy of my early childhood, there were certain events and occurances which were rather memorable. When I was about four years of age, the two dogs we had at the time had brought forth puppies. I delighted greatly in them and they seemed to delight greatly in me once they were able to move about on their own. On several occasions, I would curl up on the floor with them, often in their midst, and catch a nap. My father found this very amusing and began calling me his little puppy. The name of fondness continued and, even years later, my friends and family would often call me Kabba. Though it sounds as if it should be short for Kabryia, it wasn't given that way. Ironically, I favor cats more than dogs but continue to have a delight in canines as well.
When I was seven years of age, my mother and father began educating me as other children were educated elsewhere in the world. My childhood was somewhat unique in that I was the only child born in Yiatheril and the only child who would be raised there and call it her home. There were 3 other children who lived in a nearby village of the same age but they were schooled there amongst other children. Had I been any other child, I would also have been schooled with the others but I was one to whom much had been given and it would not have been enough to address my needs. As my mother and father were also very gifted people, they were able to provide me with the educational guidance I required. This was occasionally mixed with education of others, children from the village who were perhaps ten years older than I was at the most who would walk the two miles to Yiatheril. One incident during the first year of my education was rather memorable.
There was a girl named Sherabret who had a certain fondness for me. She would often sit with me and brush my hair while we listened to things one of my parents was teaching or explaining. One day, she was brushing my hair and a spider wasp- those wasps that were formed to hunt and kill certain spiders- had landed in my hair and became entangled in it. Sherabret didn't notice it at first and her brushing caused it to become even more entangled. I felt it writhing to break free of it's entrapment so I asked my father, who was teaching us that day, if he would mind pausing a moment while we freed the insect. Sherabret, as I learned then, was not well disposed to wasps and, when she saw the writhing in my hair, screamed and reactively began slapping my head. The result was my being stung in the scalp by a soon after dead wasp which became that much harder to remove from my hair as it had been dismembered and crushed by a frightened and flailing Sherabret. I cried, not because the sting hurt, which it did, but because I didn't want the creature destroyed, merely freed to live out it's very short life as it had been created to do. Threafter, those who had been there that day other than my father referred to me as the Princess of the Wasps. So I became Kabba Ebrathani.
As I grew, I learned many things as other children do: literature, lore, cooking, sewing, crafting, expressive writing, academic writing, mathematics, two other languages, hunting, tracking, sailing, swimming, and so forth. I was also given a most excellent lesson in patience. One day when I was sixteen years of age, my father stated that he was going fishing and would return with enough fish for each person to eat three fish of proper size for the mid day meal. At the time, there were four others who lived in the tower: Isharat, my mother's attendant who managed the library, Sephaia the cook, Rebod the manservant who kept the living spaces tidy, and Urdaragn the reliquarian. I thought nothing of it as he left with his things and walked away toward the lake.
I spent the first part of the morning gathering things from the garden and helping the cook prepare them, some for use that day, some for storing. It was mid morning and my mother told me to go spend some time working on my sailing, so I took Ethrava the cat with me and walked to the lake. I sailed out near where my father often fished and did not find him there so I concluded that he had found a better location to fish in and sailed out toward the near island to make a pass around them. As I came around to the eastern side of the large island, I saw my father fishing in the shallows more than 100 tob from the drop point and wondered why he would be in such a place at this time of year and this time of day. Curious, I hove to and came up along his starboard side as he was fishing off the port side, toward shore. I asked him why he was fishing there and my father replied that God had directed him to this spot and to put in his line toward shore.
"Well, how many fish have you caught then?" I asked.
"Not one fish has taken the bait," he replird, smiling. "Not even a small one."
"Why would God have you come to a place like this to fish then?" I asked, laughing. "Even I have no awareness of any fish we eat anywhere near here, not for more than 300 tob!"
"Because God knows more than we do," he replied patiently, still smiling. "If God said I would catch fish here, enough to feed everyone three fish of proper size, then I will."
"Yes, and you have been here all morning yet nothing is in your basket," I supplied by way of contradiction. "Are you certain you're in the right place?"
"I am most certain, Beloved," he replied, now smiling very broadly. "Go and sail awhile with the cat and I will see you when you return from that."
I shrugged and raised sails, caught the light breeze off the island and sailed off. I sailed for the next two hours then decided to go back and see if my father had caught any fish. It took me the better part of an hour to return there and when I arrived, he was gone. Then, more curious than I had been before, I sailed back to the dock we used and saw him climbing out of his boat with his equipment, the aft of the boat sitting very low in the water and moving a bit as if by waves or wind greater than those present. As I pulled up to dock, he waited for me and lashed my lines to the posts on the dock when I threw them to him. Once I was on the dock, I asked him how his fishing had gone, expecting him to say he had yet caught nothing.
"Oh, I caught all the fish I needed and one for Ethrava," he answered, smiling broadly again.
"Well, how long did it take you to catch so many fish when there were none there to be caught?" I asked in amazement.
"Only two hours," he replied. "The length of time it took you to begin heading back here."
"Two hours? You caught twenty-two fish in two hours?"
"Yes," he replied. "Since you are here now, I would appreciate it if you would get the basket from the boat for me."
I did so and discovered that he had gotten all fish of a good size, the best size for taste, then clambored back up on the dock, only to discover he was already walking off onto the shore. He paused and turned around to tell me to let Sephaia know when I had finished readying the fish for cooking then continued on his way. I sighed then laughed, shaking my head as I heaved the basket over my shoulder and followed after my father. I did as I was told and Sephaia, chuckling at me as she collected the readied fish, kissed my cheek without comment and went back into the kitchen. A moment later, my father came out to help me take the remains to the garden shed where we would grind up the guts, removed bones, heads, and skins to be used in the garden's composter.
"What did you learn today, Kabba?" he asked as we walked toward the shed.
"That nothing is impossible for God," I replied.
"What else did you learn?" he asked, glancing at me mirthfully.
"That you are a great deal more patient than I am," I laughed.
"Right. Patience is necessary to see things in their entirety and to see some events one expects to come to pass."
He stopped and looked at me, a note of seriousness in his voice as he spoke.
"God, Life, and the Universe function according to God's will and on God's time schedule, not ours," he said. "In order to see things through in life, one must be patient and wait to see them come to pass. When God says something will be, it will be. If one has asked something of God, one must wait until God delivers it. Some things are immediate and will come in the moment one asks for them. Everything else is according to a determined time one does not know but must trust will come to be. Be patient in your faith and ready in your waiting. All things will come to pass in their time according to God's Perfect Will."
Since that time, I have grown to be more patient and in that patience came to see the truth of my father's words that day. Such are the ways of youth and growth in understanding and being.
Several years later, when I was thirty-four years of age, I had recently returned from the University of Iandraliza in Shamassakat and was soon to be trained further according to the three paths of the greater warrior. I was spending time with my mother in the garden, helping her to prepare the flowers for the coming cooler winter. Not far away, one of the gardeners was coming down the stairs from the level above and carrying some cuttings in jars partially filled with water. I had finished what I was doing and offered to help as he seemed heavily burdened and moved toward him. He said he would manage well enough and thanked me for my concern as he turned and began making his way to the next stairway down to the ground level. I insisted and attempted to take some of the pots from him, only to cause him to drop those I was trying to collect. They fell to the stone walkway and burst, spraying water and cuttings all about us.
Thelyien laughed and said he would manage with the rest as I then had a new task of cleaning the mess and preserving the cuttings he had taken. I did so, wondering at my clumsiness both of thought and action. After I had saved the cuttings from ruin and cleaned up the mess I made, I took the cuttings to Thelyien and asked his forgiveness. He forgave me with a smile, hug, and kiss then sent me on my way so that he could prepare the retrieved cuttings for new growth. When I returned to the garden, my mother was sitting on a bench waiting for me. She patted the place beside her and I sat, looking at her.
"Now, what do you suppose might be learned from this experience, Kabryia?" she asked, smiling.
"Not to attempt to aid someone when they say they need no aid?" I replied inquisitively.
"That is part of it- trusting in what others trust of their own abilities," she nodded. "What else might be gained from this experience in the way of knowledge and understanding?"
I paused and thought of it a moment, then realized what else she was allowing me to see.
"To be more aware of what others are aware of and consider the whole situation before taking action," I said.
"Correct," she smiled. "Eluyia is a gift with many paths of expression. When you see an event taking place, it is wisest to be aware of the whole of it before taking action. Sometimes, this may not seem to be the wisest or most prudent measure but it is. I call it active patience- using your awareness of things at a deeper level while patiently using what you glean from your awareness to direct your decisions and actions thereafter. Haste makes waste, sometimes of your own life or others' lives. This is what is meant by caution."
After that, she said nothing more on the event and kissed my face, bidding me to help her finish her task that evening. I helped her finish with the flowers and we returned to Yiatheril and washed before taking the evening meal. I thought a lot about that evening, and pressed into my thoughts the need to be more aware of things before taking action or making a final decision about something. This would seem to some an issue of common sense but there is more to understanding action and consequence when one is aware of things unseen and unspoken. Knowing what others cannot know bestows upon one a great burden of responsibility.
The years following my return to Yiatheril were spent, in large part, learning from my mother how to be a huntress, warrior, military commander, and civil authority. There are a great many ways to learn and it was my mother's determination for me to learn from as many of them as was practically and potentially useful to me. The first step was learning to take hunting in a new direction.
"It is one thing to hunt animals for food," my mother said, dressed in her hunting leathers. "It is quire another thing to hunt an enemy who is possibly as intelligent and aware as you are."
I nodded, understanding what she meant. I had heard many stories from warriors of the Feisannai and Imbo Mali of doing battle with very dangerous and hard to kill enemies. In the ways of both those paths, hunting is the primary element of combat.
"You will hunt me and I, you," she said. "I won't use the fullness of my abilities yet but will do so gradually as you learn to use your gifts to greater effect. Now, like Hide and Find, turn from me and deny yourself awareness of me as you count to one hundred."