A Visit With Jida

Selcis leads Enoch along a worn dirt path through the reddish-coloured mountains. She breathes in the cool air, her scales tingling with anticipation. There is scrubby vegetation along the path, and yellow desert poppies grow abundantly, swaying between the rocks. The path opens out into a sort of valley, mottled by the shadows of the cliffs, but surprisingly lush for a desert. The stones marking the graves spread out before them, their number and variety taking their breath away. Some of the stones seem to be sparkling, some are reddish like the surrounding cliffs, and some are so ancient that the Sahalian lettering has simply been worn away by the dust and wind.

Selcis pauses and looks out over the valley. She takes a deep breath, then starts making her way down the path. The path forks, and she turns left, hugging a steep cliff. The silence she expected to find in this place isn’t as silent as she would have guessed, it being a sacred burial ground. Even she senses a disturbance in the valley, and the weight of the miner’s presence settles heavily on her heart.

After some time, they both arrive at a beautiful stone, sitting half in the shadow of the cliff, and half in the sun. The gravestone is smoothly carved into an egg-like shape from the reddish stone typical to the region, but veins of a sparkly and striking gemstone run organically through the dusty red body of the rock. The veins on the half of the stone shrouded in shadow gleam a deep purple-red. As her eye moves across the stone to the half that sits in the sunlight, the veins turn sparkling green. It’s a wonderful effect. Selcis feels a sense of pride.

She runs her scaly, blue-speckled hand over the smooth stone, and breathes a deep sigh. She closes her eyes.
 
“Hi, Jida.”

Selcis looks up at Enoch, who is standing a respectful distance away. After a pause, she says in a throaty voice, “She is here. This is my Jida. Her name is Niran.”