There is the feeling that something is familiar, because you’ve known it all your life. Like that stupid little carved wooden mammoth you played with when you were little, maybe kind of chipped and worn around the edges now, but still able to take you right back to your seven year old self, the moment you pick it up.
Then there is the feeling that something is familiar because it just feels right, because this is who you are, and where you are supposed to be. Even if you never knew it before.
In that moment, Ilara knew that second kind of feeling. She had only heard that voice once before, but it felt more familiar than the voice of her mother or her father, more familiar even than her grandmother’s beautiful raspy old woman voice.
She turned around slowly, enjoying the pleasure of dragging out the moment, savoring it. Nothing had made sense since she had gone back to her village, but now, here in this clearing, everything felt like it made perfect sense.
She took in the sight of the mammoth, this strange, magnificent creature, towering over her, waiting patiently for her response.
“Well,” she said, “where have you been?”