Chapter Text
The four young men stood amidst the rolling hills of Fiddler's Green, spears in hand. They each bore the markings their fathers had placed on them, that had prepared them to cross into the Dreamworld. With unhurried sounds, they discussed where to search, which path their ancestors used, or would reap the prize they hunted.
Dream crouched in the trees above them, black eyes narrowed. His claws held onto the bark well; his tail wrapped thrice around the trunk. His raven perched on another branch.
"Why are we stalking these people?" Ea Nasir asked, feathers ruffled.
"Three generations have called me in this ritual. The first I ignored, my Raven. The second intrigued me, but we had issues with Faery at the time. Now, a third generation seeks me out. I would know why."
"Probably for some favor or blessing is my guess"
Dream's whiskers twitched. "Forty-two human years, using this same ritual. Others have given up, changed something they thought broken in the spellcasting. Why haven't they?"
The raven peered down at the figures, who began loping into the west. "Unimaginative sort?"
Dream climbed down the tree, slipping into the grasses seamlessly. "They are an abundant storytelling community." He quickly outpaced the dreamers, ears flat to his fur. Fiddler's Green nudged him to the left, creating just what the Dreamlord wanted.
The chest high rocky outcropping provided an excellent stage. With three large leaps, Dream perched upon it, in plain sight. The hunters immediately turned direction, and came to a stop several feet away.
"What business do you have in the Dreaming, sons of the Makonde tribe? For you have run thrice in my fields, hunting for me?"
Three of the young men immediately knelt in supplication. The fourth, with the most body scars and facial markings, spoke from between newly filed teeth. "We come on our trials, before we pass from being children. This is our test, to search for you, Ndoto Bwana."
Dream pulled his tail around his feet. "Your fathers and their fathers have called upon me. And now you come, following the same paths."
The youth nodded, flashing his filed teeth. "We search for answers, for inspiration. We are sons of the healers, whose stories tell the way to health. We are sons of the weather watchers, whose stories tell us when to hunt. We wish for nothing for ourselves, only for our people."
Dream raised a paw, licked it a few lazy times. "And what would become you, should have failed to find me?"
"We would teach our sons the same, bade them search the direction their hearts command."
Dream nodded, eyes fixed on the youth. "Stand then, sons of the Makonde tribe. For your hearts have led you to me, and I would reward such commitment." He raised one paw. Claws slowly extended. With precision, he cut four lines over their hearts, thin cuts sure to scar as the others had on their skin. "You will be the last to search, for your own people need no outside inspiration. Even now, the tablets have returned to me, sand to sand, the writing wiped from memory. Take your thoughts, your dreams, and tell them to your people."
With a gentle nudge, Dream sent the four back to the Waking.
"Generous of you," Ea Nasir commented, fluttering down into the grass. "I would have knocked some sense into them."
Dream huffed, walking deeper into Fiddler's Green. "I see why so many had complaints about you. But no, they were youths. Did you not see the freshness of the scars? The way their leader licked at his fresh teeth?"
The raven cawed once, flying above him. "Not how it was done in my day," he complained.
"Perhaps not."
The faint strands of a melody from reed flutes reached out of the banquet hall. Lucienne paused on her way into the hall, taking in a deep breath of the myriad of spices permeating the air. The gathering of Mayan dreamers, priests and leaders alike, was in full swing. The high holy days were a veritable feast of songs, stories, and performances. No wonder Dream loved having them in the palace.
Taramis walked past her, serving tray laden with avocados, sweet potatoes and pineapple pieces, artfully arranged in a concentric circles. "Busy night," she said, tilting her head at the group. "Would you be a dear and open that door a bit wider?"
Lucienne smiled, pulling the large doors wide open. The smell was even better from the doorway. "They always are with this culture."
Taramis smiled, expertly weaving amongst the revelers. "No wonder Dream is enamored."
Lucienne dared to look inside, to see Morpheus's form for the evening. Pale skin shone amidst the caramel tones all around. Their long black hair nearly swept the floor in a black cascade, swaying beside the pleated skirt and ankle adornments.
One dreamer bowed low before the Dreamlord. "My humblest thanks to you, Ah-Uaynih, for such fantastical feasts in your realm."
Dream turned to face the dreamer, allowing Lucienne and Tamaris a clearer view of their Lord. She appeared feminine tonight, moon kissed skin adored with jade and obsidian necklaces and arm bands. They lay flat against her naked chest, the high contrast startling in its simplicity. Her eyes were starry black voids, slightly larger than normal. As she spoke, her teeth flashed with reflected light caught in the tooth gems. "I always welcome such avid storytellers into my company. Truly their tales fill me with greater nourishment than any feast."
The lord sketched another bow, laughing. "Yes, but the feast helps the storytellers to tell their tales. Full bellies make better listeners."
Taramis huffed a laugh as she joined Lucienne on the sidelines. "So do empty larders," she murmured. "How they manage to eat with those teeth is beyond me."
Lucienne looked closer at the closest diners. Everyone had gems drilled into their teeth. "Is that only here, in the Dreaming?" she wondered.
"Oh, no, it's in the Waking too," Taramis confirmed. "Must be a right bother to keep clean. I think I'll keep my plain old ones."
Dream moved with fluid grace amongst the dreamers, absorbing new tales and fantasies, monsters and fears.
The Endless would be at the Shores of Creation for years after this night.