- Action: Part 7
- Action: Part 6
- Action: Part 5
- Action: Part 4
- Action: Part 3
- Action: Part 2
- Action: Part 1
Action: Part 8
I was glad that I was going with my Father’s blessing and I was glad he had told me the truth about my Mother. I now felt her looking down on me now, a smiling angel with thick, black hair like mine.
Father had given me a photo too. It was of my Mother, arms outstretched to the sky, and a sea of happy, cheering people below her. I tucked it into an inside pocket of the long, green, silk coat I wore. This too had been my Mother’s and it was beautiful. With loads of pockets sewn into it, it trailed to just below my waist. It was cool and flowing and suitable for the mission ahead.
Voice walked beside me, back to the room where the others waited. We walked in silence, each deep in thought.
When we entered the room all three of them pounced on me. “Well, what did he say? Are you coming? Was he happy? Sad? Angry? Come on, Empathy, tell us?” So I sat down and told them everything, about my Mother, my Father’s feelings and I even told them about Rami and our secret midnight meeting and sweet little Kamma. I showed them the photo of my activist Mother and explained about my new attire.
“Wow Empathy!” Liberty breathed “To think your own Mother was just what we are trying to be! She’d be proud of you.” “Yeah.” Equal agreed.
Amnesty didn’t say anything, just sat looking at me with wonder and understanding. I silently thanked her, as hearing about my Mother had made me feel very emotive and I knew Amnesty was trying to comfort me as best she could.
We all talked for a while about the future and our plans and hopes and dreams. Then Equal unexpectedly decided that he felt strong enough the walk a little ways and would like to see the sky for a while. Liberty and Voice went with him and, as I was feeling quite drained, I stayed behind and Amnesty stayed too.
We went about our own business for a while, I sat on my rug, grinding some herbs for Equal. Amnesty crouched over a tiny cooking fire in the corner, stirring a pot of stew.
After a while she ladled some into a mug and brought it over to me, I nodded my head in gratitude. She sat down beside me and began fumbling around with her shirt. After a moment she reached inside and pulled out a necklace. It was a mini gold hand, hanging on a golden chain. It was decorated with patterns, swirls and bumps.
Amnesty pulled it from around her neck and held it in her hand. “This is my protection necklace.” she whispered. “It was given to me by my Great Grandmother who was from North Africa. It will protect me from evil.” she tucked it back inside her shirt. “It’s pretty.” I told her. Amnesty smiled proudly.
Liberty skipped through the door, followed by Voice carrying Equal. “He did it!” she laughed “He walked!”