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Simana’s Diaries -7- The Sacred Encounter
That year, Simana was seventeen.
And she had begun to ask herself life’s questions for the first time. But those questions weren’t accompanied by words. They came with a heaviness, a void, a “why.”
on her skin. She was dark-skinned; but that darkness wasn’t a burn—it was like a light belonging to the earth. Her neck was long, her shoulders narrow, yet she carried herself with confidence.
silence.
Her hair was black and heavy. When a breeze blew, it was the first to ripple, yet it never flew wildly. For every strand was tightly bound to her head by the roots of the past.
But Simana’s beauty was of the kind that silenced those who watched her. Those who saw her forgot how to speak; words grew heavy on their lips. For she carried a majesty so profound—a majesty belonging to the sacred—that it could not be contained within a single human being.
And the people of the tribe knew that one must not come too close to the sacred.
She was intelligent; yet this intelligence was not the product of a calculating mind. It was the radiance of a perception that grasped without seeing and sensed without hearing.
His calm, however, did not resemble the stillness of a lake. It carried the silence of a steppe that had gathered itself after a storm: its interior still filled with a rumble, its exterior having gently settled into peace.
The people of Obad loved and respected him, but no one could ask what touched his heart. For those answers could only be heard through silence.
Simana often went into the forest. Başkam had begun to leave her alone. Because some paths were meant to be walked alone. And Simana’s path had been carved by an arrow.
forest was like a shadow driven into the heart of the steppe. It did not frighten, but the darkness within it reflected everyone’s own darkness.
Simana loved walking in that shadow… Alone, in silence, for days on end.
with her only a little dry bread, some meat, a water skin, and her leather-bound notebook.
But her true burden lay within her chest: something inside her was trying to awaken, though it did not yet know what it would become.
That day, the fog was spreading thinly among the trees. The leaves were silent; the birds were quiet.
Time wasn’t flowing like a river; it seemed to be lying on the ground, resting.
birches, the light scattered before touching the ground, and every shadow gazed like an eye.
Simana moved forward, trying not to wake the forest with the sound of her footsteps.
yet aware that the amber-colored eyes watching her belonged not to a fox, but to her own destiny.
