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Alara and Ilayda surfaced from the cold, sapphire blue lake, their dark eyes shining brightly with youthful laughter. Swimming was not only their favorite pastime, but their life line. The twins relied on their innate aquatic skills to not only provide sustenance for their nomadic clan, but also to attend to the welfare of the silvery-grey Nerpa, the only freshwater seals in existence.
Ilayda tilted her bronzed face sunward, clasped her hands loosely over her torso, and let the water cradle her lithe body. Her long dark hair spilled across the surface, creating the appearance of ebony wings. She bobbed on the gentle waves and sighed happily.
They were finally out of sight of the imposing rocky cliffs of the western shore. The twins made their home on the sparsely populated eastern side of the rift lake. They enjoyed the solitude, communing with nature, and got along well with each other.
Alara gently kicked her legs to stay upright, and watched a large school of silvery omul - a local variety of salmon - as they slalomed through the thermals far below.
On a good day, she could easily see deep into the heart of the lake, which her parents and untold generations of ancestors referred to as The Sacred Sea.
It was still sacred to their clan, and to most of her people. Their Sacred Sea - Lake Baikal - was the world’s largest and deepest freshwater lake, and more importantly one of the clearest. She could well believe it, having been raised on or near its shore her entire life. The lake’s sapphire depths were of little mystery to the twins - even though they couldn’t physically swim the full mile down, they were intimate with the stunningly beautiful lake and its many moods and faces.
Alara lay on her back and mirrored her twin’s relaxed repose as they floated in silence for a time. Even in late summer the Siberian air was brisk, and the water far too chill for anyone not accustomed to it.
They were immune to the cold after so long in it.
“Are you hungry, sister?”
Ilayda opened her coal black eyes and glanced at Alara. “I am. But you know I can always eat.”
Alara gave her twin a predatory grin, swam a few long strokes closer to the shallows, and expertly dove under the surface. As she did so, the sun glinted off the curved steel blade of the slender knife strapped to her outer thigh.
After a few languid minutes, Ilayda dove underwater and undulated straight to shore, where she gathered up a stack of deadwood and lit a fire. She wrung the water out of her long hair onto the sand, retrieved the iron skillet from their yurt, and placed it over the fire just as Alara surfaced with a large grayling grasped firmly in her strong hand.
She knelt in the sand, slid her knife out of its sheath, and proceeded to quickly gut and fillet the fish on a large flat rock. Ilayda took the fillets, seasoned them with a bit of salt and local herbs, and cooked them to perfection.
The twins reverently scattered a few bits of flaky fish as an offering to the gods and ate in companionable silence. The sun slowly descended through the cloudless sky.
“Do you think there will be any heartfelt wishes tonight?” Ilayda asked.
Alara glanced upwards as the stars twinkled into sight, listening intently. She scented the air, and opened herself to the voices on the wind. Long minutes later, she shuddered and nodded. “The spirits say yes.”
Ilayda reached over and grasped Alara’s hand. “It’s our reason for being. It must be done.”
“I know, sister. I know.”
Ilayda tilted her bronzed face sunward, clasped her hands loosely over her torso, and let the water cradle her lithe body. Her long dark hair spilled across the surface, creating the appearance of ebony wings. She bobbed on the gentle waves and sighed happily.
They were finally out of sight of the imposing rocky cliffs of the western shore. The twins made their home on the sparsely populated eastern side of the rift lake. They enjoyed the solitude, communing with nature, and got along well with each other.
Alara gently kicked her legs to stay upright, and watched a large school of silvery omul - a local variety of salmon - as they slalomed through the thermals far below.
On a good day, she could easily see deep into the heart of the lake, which her parents and untold generations of ancestors referred to as The Sacred Sea.
It was still sacred to their clan, and to most of her people. Their Sacred Sea - Lake Baikal - was the world’s largest and deepest freshwater lake, and more importantly one of the clearest. She could well believe it, having been raised on or near its shore her entire life. The lake’s sapphire depths were of little mystery to the twins - even though they couldn’t physically swim the full mile down, they were intimate with the stunningly beautiful lake and its many moods and faces.
Alara lay on her back and mirrored her twin’s relaxed repose as they floated in silence for a time. Even in late summer the Siberian air was brisk, and the water far too chill for anyone not accustomed to it.
They were immune to the cold after so long in it.
“Are you hungry, sister?”
Ilayda opened her coal black eyes and glanced at Alara. “I am. But you know I can always eat.”
Alara gave her twin a predatory grin, swam a few long strokes closer to the shallows, and expertly dove under the surface. As she did so, the sun glinted off the curved steel blade of the slender knife strapped to her outer thigh.
After a few languid minutes, Ilayda dove underwater and undulated straight to shore, where she gathered up a stack of deadwood and lit a fire. She wrung the water out of her long hair onto the sand, retrieved the iron skillet from their yurt, and placed it over the fire just as Alara surfaced with a large grayling grasped firmly in her strong hand.
She knelt in the sand, slid her knife out of its sheath, and proceeded to quickly gut and fillet the fish on a large flat rock. Ilayda took the fillets, seasoned them with a bit of salt and local herbs, and cooked them to perfection.
The twins reverently scattered a few bits of flaky fish as an offering to the gods and ate in companionable silence. The sun slowly descended through the cloudless sky.
“Do you think there will be any heartfelt wishes tonight?” Ilayda asked.
Alara glanced upwards as the stars twinkled into sight, listening intently. She scented the air, and opened herself to the voices on the wind. Long minutes later, she shuddered and nodded. “The spirits say yes.”
Ilayda reached over and grasped Alara’s hand. “It’s our reason for being. It must be done.”
“I know, sister. I know.”