The elders met near the largest tent. The oldest of them was the assumed leader. “The tree has spoken. The children will be sacrificed to the priests.”
The parents stood in the center on a log. They didn’t speak. They did not look up. “Great honor is on you both. You will both become leaders in your village. You will be respected and admired by everyone.”
At last the father spoke. “When will the priests come?”
“Soon. May I see the children?” The oldest elder nodded toward the baskets where the babes lay sleeping.
“Of course.” The mother spoke.
The elder motioned for one of the young women assistants to bring him the baskets. He took one child out then the other, holding both in his arms. “They must have been a handful, this past few seasons.”
“We have four other children and were not prepared for two more. It has not been easy, but we loved them no less.” The mother stood tall again.
“Of course you did. Both females? How strange. Usually twins are one of each. But they are so rare either way.” He looked up at the mother. “You must have known they were destined for something larger than us all.”
She nodded.
One of the infants awoke and yawned. She stared up at the strange man holding her. She reached up and grabbed his beard. “You telling me something, little one?” He handed the child to the elder on his right and the still sleeping infant to the one on his left. Each placed a blessing on the child before passing it to the next elder.
Before the two infants had completed the circle, the crowd around them grew silent and parted to allow the priest to come through. He was old and bent, using a tall walking stick to help him along. The elder rose and bowed to him.
“Uncle, by the Tree, we greet you.”
“By the Tree, I came.” The old man saw the two babes still being passed around. “Two?” His voice rose slightly.
“Yes.”
“Holy Mother of Trees, what are you doing to me?” He muttered then motioned for the elder to step closer. “Do you know what the sacrifice is?”
“Yes, I do. The children will go–”
“You do know. Then tell me, Nephew, how am I to tend to two?”
“I…I do not know. Perhaps the Mother Tree knows something we do not.”
The old priest snorted. “She does at that. And the twig fell on both of them at once?”
“No, two separate twigs.”
“And the great owl?”
“Two distinct calls.”
“Holy Mother of Trees, do you think me a strapping young man?” He sighed and patted the elder on the shoulder. “I have come a long way this morning. Do you have food and shelter for me? I need to think.”
“But of course, this way, Uncle.”
“Bring the children, I need to meet them.”