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2000 they remain with
much strength, pride and fervor in their ideology. Eme couldn’t
help but be reminiscent of how this Brazilian tribe reminded her of
her own mortal life. She was flooded with memories of how her own
tribe had been shunned and exiled to the outskirts of Cairo so many
years ago.
    The children of the tribes
informed the elders of Eme’s arrival. Giggling and hiding behind
the huts and trees they followed her in their innocent concept of
invisibility. Eme could tell by their whispers that her white skin
and long curly chestnut hair intrigued them. She seemed so
different from the missionaries that had come before.
    She walked through the
dusty village, its dwellings placed sporadically on either side of
her. She made her way to the two largest huts that sat side by side
on the west end of the village. From experience, Eme knew that one
of those huts would belong to either the priest or priestess of the
village, and the other to its healer or medicine man.
    When Eme was about twenty
feet away, a young boy came out from behind one of the huts and
addressed her.
    “What are you wanting from
our village?” he asked, very direct in his native Touguraco
dialect. His aura was very regal for someone so young. It took Eme
a moment to process what he had said, but then as though it had
just been yesterday that she had spoken the language, she answered
him with perfect pronunciation.
    “I seek
your priest or priestess,” Eme said, giving the boy a smile. A girl
came running out from the same place and made her way to the hut on
the right and ran inside. Just as the boy was about to say
something else, the priest walked out with the girl following. He
was dressed in a lungi-type wrap that was draped around his waist
and pleated in the front. Several strings made of grass were strung
with various shells that hung around his neck. He wore an
impressive colourful head-dress made from many
different birds’ tail feathers and bones. His dark leather-like
skin was almost black and the deep creases around his eyes and his
forehead revealed the harsh life he had lived.
    Stopping a few feet away
from her, the priest looked at the boy, then to the shadows and
told the hiding children to return to their parents. They came out
from their cover, heads bent in shame and made their way to their
own huts. It was only then that the old priest addressed
Eme.
    “You seek me out. Why?” he
asked simply. Eme could hear the reservation in his voice, his
unease with her presence.
    “I want you to teach me all
you know of demons, spirits and how to use magick–black and white–I
want you to teach me how to evoke nature, all that you and your
tribes have known for centuries,” Eme said. She didn’t care to make
him feel more at ease with her. She didn’t have the
time.
    "But it
will take you many months to learn magick! And as for learning how
to invoke nature, I am still trying to master such things!" he exclaimed. Eme
could sense his anxiety grow while being in her presence; he knew
instantly she was not human. But Eme, persistent and strong-willed,
soon enough changed the priest’s mind. After a short time he gave
in to her demands that very night and began teaching her what he
knew.
    She had been in the village for nearly three
weeks, learning all she could from the priest. Eme researched,
analyzed and scrutinized every remaining piece of information on
demons or spirits. The nighttime heat clung to every part of her
body. Despite the priest’s cooperation, he never let his guard down
and never really trusted her. The priest knew better than that.
Throughout his own lessons the priest had learned of creatures such
as Eme, and many others that are just as dangerous–sweet and
cunning, willing to kill anything for their bloodlust. The ones
that seem most innocent and passive are often the ones to be most
cautious of.
    Eme was alone now. Unable
to stay awake and keep watch over her, the priest had bid her
goodnight hours ago.