The fire was beginning to die. With a simple wave of his hand the Ancient One sent the young boy racing back into the scrubby land to fetch sticks for burning. Overhead the moon lit his path as he ran from one thicket to another, pulling together the loose twigs and picking up a stray dry root. Quickly he returned, throwing the meager kindling on the dying fire. In the shore span of minutes since his hunt began the Ancient One had fallen asleep, his head dipping down to his chest. With the crackling of the new twigs he came alive and picked up the beat of his story.

"Long ago, beyond the time of all our ancestors, back before the sun and moon were put into the sky," he said, "back when everything was chaos, God formed the world." The Ancient One was speaking words he had long ago heard fr…