“It is time.” She said.
The children gathered around the fire on mats of woven leaves: their eyes wide and their hearts waiting for the story.
Li-atra sat on her throne, the old tale rose in her throat and drew them in.
“Many generations have passed since Li-a, my ancestor and yours, climbed the Mountain of Fire.”
The children held their breaths. They had heard the tale many times, but it was still beyond belief.
“As a child, pure and untouched, she set her path for the stars. She held in her hands two gifts from the Volcano God.” Li-atra showed them the glass stones.
“And with her whit, she ransomed the God’s lost children for this!” Li-atra pointed to the roaring fire. The children exhaled together.
“For, because of her courage, we have been given the fire to make our meals and to forge our weapons of bronze. And now the Volcano God sits silent, because we have stolen his fire and our people are, ferocious!”
Li-atra pointed directly above, “And our mother now lives forever among the stars.”