When I was born the chief took one long look at me and said I would bring bad times to all. Before my birth they had years of prosperity, but there must be balance in all things. Though everyone knew I would bring darkness to our lands, my mama still raised me to the best of her abilities. The trueness of the chief's words were tested and found valied many times as I grew. Bad things happened where I went. Lots of really bad things. Broken wheels, floods, disease and even death to name a few. Both the chief and my mama told me I had to ammend for the bad things. So I fixed wheels, I diverted the river again and again, I tended the sick and I buried the dead. Despite my attempts, my tribe scorned me and spat at my feet. If I approached, they would turn away, and if I tried to speak, they would ignore me. Only my mama and the chief acknowledged me. The severity of the events increased the older I got, building to a grand maximum. The mountain next to us was smoking, and it was no secret that I was to blame. On the day of my seventeenth year day, the tribe gathered as it does for every young ones' entrance into adulthood. The drums were beating. The crows were cawing. And the faces were grim. The chief and the old shaman stood before me. The chief looked so much older than he used to, withered and worn, almost an old man. He cleared his throat. 'Tash, you have grown to be a woman, and the time has come to shed your shackles.' The shaman took over. 'Your life has been cast in shadow, and now a new life begins. You must lead us in light.' The chief reached for the knife that always hung from his belt. The metal glinted in the light as he drew it. I didn't move, but watched the sharp metal as it moved. This was it then. I would not be allowed to enter the ranks of the adults. After all, if a bad seed is found, you do not sow it. You do not water it. You toss it away, and plant a good one istead. My eyes zeroed in on the blade. The sharp metal, which caught the piercing rays of sunlight. The chief extended his arm, and though old and wisened, muscles still rippled beneath the dark flesh. I decided I would not resist. Let them, at last, cut the bad seed away. I prepared to close my eyes. Though scorned for my destiny my entire life, I had never been able to stomach physical pain well. I held my breath. He flipped the blade, and held it hilt first out to me. A most curious look upon his face, disbelief and a deeply veiled anger. The shaman spoke, 'We have formed and molded you. No disaster have managed to misguide you, despite your treatment. Your path has always been true.' My expression in that moment must have been comical, but I reached out, and my fingers closed around the knife's handle. Slow and steady. I exhaled. 'Good,' the shaman smiled. A crooked and wary smile. 'Now, use the knife child.' I looked at the shaman, trying to disentangle the meaning. He smiled, and an evil cast tinted his features. 'All your life, misfortune has followed you. Now kill the man who spoke your destiny and be free of it.' Hesitant, I looked to the chief, and noticed the resignation which had settled in his every line. He nodded to me. I took the small step forward which brought me within striking range of the chief, and then I prepared to lunge. As I struck forth, the ground rumbled. It trembled and heaved beneth me. The knife missed its mark and fell to the ground. 'Pick it up,' the shaman hissed, and the chief nodded his assent. I bent to do so, and knife in hand, moved for the chief again. A deepset and buried anger had blossomed in my veins. Again the ground trembled, but this time much louder. Behind us, the mountain growled, and began to spew out its deadly fumes and burning rivers. Screams rose up from the camp, as people frantically began to pack up their posessions. Instinct told me to join them. To take responsibility for the misfortune I'd wrought once again. Still my buried anger had been released, and I froze, torn between duty and retribution. Something in my expression must have alerted the chief, for he said, 'Do not worry, you will lead them well.' That struck a cord within me, disjointing my anger, and I spun on the old man. 'What do you mean?' 'It's time you knew your true path in life, and why your path so far has been difficult,' emphasis was placed on the last word. Difficult was a gross understatement. 'The path before you may be even more difficult, for after today our people will look to you for answers.' 'You will be chief, but first you must kill the old,' the shaman cackled. 'It's all coming to pass. Just like I said so many years ago.' I stood rooted to the spot. My life was a lie. I looked down at the knife in my hand. How easy it would be to strike down the man who spoke my doom. 'Now girl, before the mountain takes us. To change your destiny requires sacrifice.' The shaman, a thick man, had a crazed and fevered glaze to his features. For a long moment I just stood there, thinking. Then I said a single word, 'No.' The chief's shoulders slumped, and the shaman went livid. 'I can not kill the chief, for his words at my birth were yours shaman. For 17 years I have toiled for our tribe, and for seventeen years I have learned. There is no destiny, only people. And our people are all puppeted by your words shaman.' 'Strike the chief, or the mountain will swallow us.' Slowly, I looked to the coughing mountain. Watched its rivers of death as they entered the valley, and then I knew. None of them would be a danger to us. Not as long as we stayed where I had made it safe. My many years of finding safe ground for our camp and diverting the rivers now meant the tribe's survival. 'Your secrets will no longer govern us shaman.' I advanced on the shaman. Despite being portly, he was not a man of great physical strength. My entire life was heavy labour. He backed away. Away from me and the chief's knife. My advance was slow, and I saw what would happen well before it did, but just as I contemplated stopping it, a strong arm grasped my shoulder. The weathered hand of my chief rested there, and in the next moment, the shaman backed into the nearest river of molten stone. The shaman was no more. The tribe was free of his dark tellings. For the first time I became a valued member of our small society, and a few years later the chief ceeded his position to me as the youngest chief in our history. For all the births to come, no more prophesies and destinies were spoken, only words of love.