Dragon Tree and Turnkote

Shimmering in the heat distortion of the desert a distant fire burned, appearing to hoover at once above and then upon the horizon.
Turnkote stood beneath the wide shade of the Dragon Tree turning a fir cone in her hand. She set its fat bottom onto the crystal heat of the white sand and span it with a flick of her fingers.
A sand vortex sprang up around the cone and a confusion of voices came into the air. They sang or spoke, called or cried, the sound of those that held the fir cone before, their memories summoned to this place. She whispered "Guide me." and felt a breeze tug at her skirt and heard it pass through the leaves above her. The voices quietened as the cone ceased its spinning leaving a flurry of sand scattered about it. Turnkote took her lizard gizzard watercarrier filling her mouth and then spat a spray of water onto the cone and offcast sand. The sand leapt up to grasp the precious moisture and fell back to the earth where a shape formed, gathering bulk wriggling to be free and then wings emerged as a large bee exploded out from the desert. It flew a circuit around Turnkote's head before flying away purposefully towards the fire on the horizon.
Turnkote settled cross legged leaning on the wide trunk of the Dragon Tree watching for the moment the bee reached the fire. The flames suddenly leapt high and a silhouette was thrust forward, a human shape as though summoned from another presence into this.Turnkote smiled and began to hum as the silhouette walked tirelessly crossing the burning sand towards her. She accompanied her humsong with the percussive sounds of her body, tapping her knees, her cheeks, snapping her fingers, cracking them bringing her whole being alive in the desert.
As the figure approached Turnkote heard upon the breeze her own humsong returned in harmony. She unfolded her legs and walked out to greet her guest, they both extended their arms, echoed each step, embraced continuing to sing but now as one voice.
Turnkote gazed into the face of her older self, the Turnkote she would be many years, decades from this day. Old Turnkote smiled and offered a handful of ash from the beacon fire. She rubbed some into Turnkote's hair and spitting upon the rest made a paste and spread it on Turnkote cheeks and then her own. She laid her ashwhite hand on Turnkote stomach and spoke.

"Through fire, humsong, bee 
and cone, you summon guidance
Call you home

In water, ash and shade
and sand, I bring you answers
Call you home

A new healthy baby
born of you, this baby lives
You are fore told.

Call you home child, call you home.