Today the boys were going to turn into men...so the older men said. They took seven of us, ranging from the youngest, who was around thirteen, to the oldest, who was sixteen or thereabouts. I fell somewhere in the middle, with my fifteen years.

We were kept apart, and a necklace made of sacred grass was around our necks. We fasted and prayed to the Gods as we sat far away from our camp, in a circle by the fire. The older men were there too, and the Aurochs Shaman in his Bull mask.

The shaman rose as the darkness fell, and one of the men began beating a drum, to keep time. The shaman sang, of Dyaus the father, and of the storm gods, the shining Diws and the Earth Goddess clothed in green. He sang of the thunder, the voice of the mighty one, the God of the whose bow is the rainbow, and whose spear is the dazzling lightning.

Then he called up the God of fire, and threw more kindling on the crackling fire, and sparks flew up with a whoosh. He gave us all a drink, and I felt light headed.

What next, I wondered...