Sacrifice.

High on the brow of the hill the sentinels are perched as they were centuries ago. An unbroken cluster of a thousand fearsome green and grey barked warriors standing watch over the lands below, whilst barring all those who'd get illusions of grandeur to get a peek of the gods above.
Pine trees dance shyly amidst them, as if challenging for a place at this hall of gods.

The grey-white clouds lick the crowns of the trees, ostensibly in dance with the constant whispers of the wind. Mad puppets on invinsible strings.

I sat at my grandmother's hearth to hear a tale of sacrifices at this land of gods. A fable old, wrinkled and obscured, veiled by countless tells and re-tells to my forefathers.
The account as told to me...

The women, men court them,
Dancing forgotten dances,
Singing songs of old,
Melodies, tuneless humming,
Dozens of drums beating as one. BOOOOM! BOOOOM! BOOOOM!

They evoke spirits,
Women pouring libations, pounding at their bared chests,
Men slaughtering bulls rams...ferocious beasts for the fires,
Young boys in awe, eyes shining in wonderment at the flickering blaze,

The gods groan as they arise,
Light in their wake as they hammer away reverently at the heavens,
Long tongues of light licking the dry earth,
As good a sign as any,
The flames soothing the crackling fleshy meat, smoke coiling lazily towards the heavens,

The gods are appeased, pleased by their subjects.