Heroic Journey

The stories on this page are from prompts at Soul Food’s Creative Catalogue. All the material here is copyright 2007 by She Wolf (Jane Wolfinbarger.)

Take a Little Trip – With Enchanteur

May 18, 2007

I was sitting in my big comfy chair in my room at Riversleigh, with a good book in my hands and a cup of tea beside me. I had an afghan spread over my knees and I was wonderfully comfortable.  Then I heard a sound. It wasn’t loud, but it was persistent. I turned my head and looked out the window, but there was nothing unusual there. I shrugged and went back to my book. I heard the sound again, this time a little louder. I looked around once more, perplexed. Where was that sound coming from? I got up and looked around the room, but I couldn’t see anything amiss. I returned to my book, but the mood was broken. I sighed and finished my tea. Then I put away my book and folded up the afghan. I went over to my computer and opened up a story I was working on. A problem I was having with it suddenly resolved itself, and I was writing intently when I heard the sound a third time, rather loudly this time. What on earth was that?I followed the sound to its source. It was that small tapestry I had found in the trunk in the attic a while back. As I got closer to it, I could hear what the sound was. It was a voice, and it was calling me. 

“She Wolf….She Wolf….Come and find me, She Wolf…..”  I figured out quickly that this was le Enchanteur calling me. Already? I had just gotten back to Riversleigh. I had heard that there was a wonderful new quest, though, and I had to admit I was intrigued. I took the tapestry down from the wall and looked at it carefully. The voice seemed to be coming from somewhere in the series of tiny islands in the swampy looking little lake.

I thought for a minute or two, but no longer. The decision was made. I opened my door carefully, but nothing strange happened. Apparently it wasn’t the portal this time. Going out into the hall, I found some of the Riversleigh residents; I asked if they would water my plants, because I might be away for a while…again. I just couldn’t resist following le Enchanteur’s call. This time I took my time packing. I did not leave out such essentials as a pocket knife and bedroll and tin mug for the campfire. I put in my matches in a water proof container, a little lightweight cooking set, some tea, and a little food- the cook was a help here, and found some good trail foods for me. I grabbed my journal and pens, my colored pencils, and my knitting- socks of course, because they are portable. I packed a few spare clothes and a big plastic poncho in case it rained - I did learn a few things last time around. I also took a canteen filled with fresh water. There. I thought that perhaps I might be ready now. I thought for a few more minutes and put in my wooden flute and then added a needle and thread and a set of nail clippers. I also added a candle stub and a piece of chalk. Why? I don’t know. It seemed prudent at the time. I have learned that le Enchanteur is full of surprises. Finally, I wedged in a plastic container of soap and other toiletries and a washcloth in a plastic bag. There. That should take care of all sorts of things, but undoubtedly not all things. I was as ready as I could be. I changed into decent hiking boots and clothing for traveling, adding a lightweight wind proof jacket as the top layer. It wasn’t as comforting to the heart as a wool cloak, but it was far more practical.

 I picked up the tapestry, which was still calling me, and set out. I had no idea where this area was, but there was no time like the present to find out. I started off in the direction of some water gardens I remembered seeing. The water gardens were beautiful and well tended, so I went through them. The area became swampier and less well kept as I went. I came to a little wooden deck that had a pond on one side of it. It was getting wild here, with lily pads and frogs every where. I sat down to look at everything for a few minutes and think about what I wanted to do. The dragonflies caught my attention- they have always been favorites of mine- and water striders scooted about on the calm surface of the water. I could see little fish coming to up to the top of the water trying to eat the little insects there. It was very peaceful. I could hear birds singing, frogs croaking, the tapestry calling…the tapestry! I took it out again and looked at it. There was a little bug on it. I tried to brush it off, and realized it was part of the tapestry. I also realized that it was moving. I turned around, and so did it, so it was still crawling in the same direction. “Thanks, Enchanteur!” I called, and set off in the direction the bug indicated.

 Things quickly got messy and boggy. I picked my way from tussock to tussock in the swampy mess. I made it to a dry section and wandered among the overgrown trees and bushes. There were still flowers here, too, growing wild. I paused under a willow tree to get my bearings. The little bug was still moving straight ahead, so I continued on. I went through a lot of overgrown gardens gone wild and wondered who had planted them. They must have been beautiful at one time.

 I came to the edge of another pond and this one looked familiar. It seemed to be the one in the tapestry. There were several dozen small islands that must have been full of plantings at one point. The pond was like the path, and the islands were the flower beds. Now they were full of weeds and trees planted by the birds.  I looked at the tapestry again. The bug was showing me that I needed to go to one of the islands in the middle of the pond. How I was going to get there, well, that was another matter entirely.

 As I watched the pond, I saw something moving through the algae. It was something large. I gulped, realizing that there was something reptilian in the pond. I backed up slightly, and as I backed up, I tripped over something and landed on my rump in the weeds. It was a boat! It was upside down in the weeds near the edge of the water, and looked to be in decent condition when I examined it. It took a while to get all the vines and weeds off of it, but I finally hacked it free. I should have packed a machete.

 I grabbed a branch and put it under one side, using it as a lever to heave the boat right side up. I grunted, groaned and fought with it, and finally the thing turned over. Lots of small things with many legs scurried away as fast as they could. I was glad to let them go. The boat looked to be in even better condition than I had thought, and there were even some oars and oar locks that had been stored under the boat. Now, if I could get it into the water, I would be in business. After still more heaving and pushing and grunting, I managed to slide the boat down a small hill into the water. I held onto the bow while I waited to see if there were any huge leaks, but the boat remained as dry as a bone.

Carefully, I climbed in and fitted the oarlocks into place. Then I slid the oars into the oarlocks and started out. It had been years since I had rowed a boat, but it came back quickly. I checked my tapestry, and set a course in the direction the little bug indicated. It was fun to row through the water garden, and imagine what it must have been like.  There were shallow sections with stepping stones between the islands, and places with benches and tumble down gazebos. There were places where the flowers had taken over and other places where wild plants were growing. I thought that I would have to let Lady Sybil know about this wonderful place.

Insects were buzzing around, birds were dipping down into the water and calling in the trees and I thought I could see koi swimming in the shallow parts of the water. I never saw whatever had scared me earlier. I could keep exploring here all afternoon, but I could hear the Enchanteur calling again, and louder than before.

 I homed in on the island the bug indicated and pulled up to its grassy side. It was one of the smaller islands, with a tumbledown tea house on it and old rose bushes growing here and there. I climbed out of the boat and pulled it onto the shore with me. Looking around, I didn’t see any obvious portals, but that didn’t mean anything. I climbed carefully onto the remains of the tea house. Suddenly I was falling down, down, down…

I landed on my feet by the side of a little trail that looked vaguely familiar. Then I realized that it wasn’t the trail that was familiar, it was the area. I was near Duwamish Bay once more. 

 

 

Storm in the Night

 stood by the trail, feeling a little put out. While the trail was in the area of Duwamish Bay, I knew it would take several days’ walking to get there.  I wished that le Enchanteur had put me down a little closer to my destination. As I turned to go down the trail, I almost bumped my nose on a bag that was hanging from a tree right beside me. I took a good look at it- it was hard not to, with it being in my face and all. It was a smallish bag, and like the area I was in, it looked familiar.

 

  Of course! It was one of le Enchanteur’s famous bags. It ought to look familiar, I had carried one before. I took it down and poked through it. Yep, it had the same kinds of things in it. Very nice. I slung it around my neck and tucked it down inside my jacket for safe keeping.

 

Then I sighed. Now there was no doubt in my mind that this was where le Enchanteur wanted me to start off. I set off down the trail.

 

Not more than a half an hour later, I spied a small village, which also looked familiar. I increased my pace and was soon at the corral fence of the stable. The stable woman, Tilly, wasn’t in sight, but I knew she wouldn’t be far off. As I stood there, I heard a nickering, and a handsome horse ran up to me and bumped me with his nose.

 

“There you are! I’ve been waiting forever to meet you in person!” he said.

 

I looked at him, and then blinked. I looked at him again. He was a dark palomino, almost copper in color, but with a palomino’s flaxen mane and tail. “You look just like a horse I dreamed about when I was just a kid,” I told him. “I drew pictures of that horse and hung them all over my walls.”

 

“That was me,” the horse replied. “I came to visit you in your dreams. I knew that someday we’d meet, and since you were a horse crazy kid when you dreamed about me, I knew you’d remember me.” He sounded smug, and butted me again, leaving grassy drool marks on my jacket. “Come on, and let’s go find Tilly and get this show on the road. It’ll be night soon, and we can ride!” I climbed over the fence and ran my hands over him. He was even finer than I remembered from my dream - beautiful, intelligent, and even magical.

 

When we found Tilly she was checking the hooves on a horse that had just come in. It was limping slightly and she was grumbling about people who didn’t know enough to make sure a horse didn’t have stones caught in their hooves. “After all, they can’t pick ‘em out fer themselves!” she exclaimed, wielding her hoof pick like a weapon. “That’s the last time I let one of my horses go out with that person!” she added. “Now, what can I do fer you two? Looks like ye found each other right enough. Acapella, is this the person you been goin’ on about fer all these years? Huh. Got all growed up on ye, didn’t she? But that’s the way people are. We change- at least on the outside. Can’t help it. It’s our nature. She still loves you, though. I kin see it in her eyes, on her face.”  She nodded emphatically and then looked at me and smiled.

 

I looked at him. “Acapella. Is that what your name really is? I didn’t get that right, did I? I came close, but not quite. You look just like I dreamed, though. Beautiful.” I reached up and scratched him under the forelock. He leaned into the scratch and sighed.

 

“Well, you two sure seem to hit it off. Come on and we’ll get Acapella here all rigged up fer yer night ride.” Tilly smiled at us and led us toward the tack room. “Now, ye do know where yer goin’, right?”

 

“To Duwamish Bay. At least, that’s where I think I’m supposed to go.” I said.

 

“That’s right. It’ll look different, from the air, ye know. But it won’t take ye but a night to git there from here, ridin’ the night sky like my horses do.”

I nodded. I was familiar with this. I just hoped Acapella and I could find our way there in the dark.

 

Tilly found a hackamore for Acapella to wear. Since Acapella knew I would be more comfortable, he asked Tilly to put a flat English saddle on him. She agreed reluctantly, and reminded me to loosen the girth when we rested and to brush him thoroughly where the saddle went when we stopped. She added some grooming tools to the saddle bags she tied on him. She looked askance at my hiking boots. “Those things’ve got no heels to ‘em!” she exclaimed. Rummaging around in a big wooden box, she came up with some riding boots that were my size. They were barely worn, and I tried to give them back to her. “Nay, I’ll not have ye ride without ‘em.” she said. “’Sides, someone just left ‘em here one time. I got a lot ‘o stuff that folks’ve just left, an’ I’ll pass it on where I can.” Saying that, she shut the box with a thump and crossed her arms, daring me to argue with her.

 

My hiking boots were packed with the rest of my gear which was secured behind the saddle, and just as the sun dropped behind the hills, a chilly drizzle started. There would be no riding a starry trail tonight. We would be playing tag with soggy grey clouds instead, so we could stay low enough to navigate to Duwamish Bay. I dug out my big plastic poncho- I was really glad I had brought it, and Tilly nodded with approval. “That’s the ticket. No flies on you!” she said.

 

I mounted up and away we went. Acapella galloped up into the sky and we were soon brushing the clouds. He called, “Hold on!” and we were going up and through them.  It was so humid in the clouds I found it hard to breathe, but then we were through, and the stars shone above us. Acapella laughed and said, “We can go this way for a while! I can navigate by the stars until we get close to the coast and then we’ll have to go down lower to finish the trip.”

 

I whooped with delight and we spiraled up into the sparkling night.

 

The first part of the night we galloped along glowing starry trails and played tag with the constellations. The night was crystal clear above the clouds and just a little bit chilly. Soon, though, there were clouds ahead of us, even as high as we were. “Thunderheads,” said Acapella. “I’ll try to get over them, but I may not be able to do it – especially since we’ll have to go lower soon anyway. They’re awfully tall.” Saying this, he started going up again. Still the clouds loomed ahead of us. There was no way we were going to get above them. In fact, we weren’t going to be able to get below them either. They were moving our way, and fast. They were on us before we realized it.

 

Dense gray clouds roiled in front of us, the anvil shaped top of the cloud hanging above us. The wind was swirling unpredictably here. “Hang on tight. This could be a very rough ride!” Acapella called back to me. I grabbed a double fistful of mane and hung on tight. My legs were gripping his sides so tightly I was surprised I could breathe.

 

The winds grew worse as we entered the clouds. It was strange. It was like being in a fog, but windy at the same time. We were buffeted this way and that. I was starting to feel a bit ill when I saw what looked like a face in the clouds. It was there and then it wasn’t. I wasn’t even sure I had seen it.

 

Then I had something else to think about. Thunder boomed and crashed, quite nearby.  Where there was thunder there was lightning. All I could do was hold on tight and pray.

 

The face came back. This time it spoke, “Well, what have we here? Toys!”  The face made a puffy set of cheeks, pursed its lips and blew. We were tossed around by the resulting wind.

 

Thunder rolled again, and I heard a voice in it. “Hey, can I play, too? Bet I can knock it down before you can!”  the thunder voice said.

 

“Bet you can’t!” the wind face answered.

 

“Acapella…” I was very frightened.

 

“I know. I heard them. I’ll get us down on the ground as soon as I can! Hold on!” he called back to me.

 

I don’t know how long we were blown around this way and that, as the lightening struck around us. We zigzagged and dipped and climbed, evading, always dodging the lightening as the wind tried to unseat me and push Acapella into a tumble.  Every time we started down to try and get away, an updraft would send us back into the middle of the thunderhead once more. At least the lightening and the wind were competing, not cooperating. Several times the lightening would have struck us if sudden gusts hadn’t pushed us out of the way at the last second. I felt the heat from the bolts on my skin and the electricity crackled around me.

 

I was beyond frightened, beyond terrified. All I could do was hold on and try not to fall off. Things were getting worse, which I found hard to believe, when I heard the wind voice again. “I’m upping the ante! Watch these winds!”

 

The thunder bellowed, “NO FAIR!” and sent a huge branching bolt at us. Acapella dodged the bolt, right into the wind that was now swirling around in a circle. Between the dodge and the wrenching of the wind, I was ripped from Acapella’s back, into the cold empty air. The wind tossed me around for a few seconds and then dropped me to chase after Acapella who was sucked into the spiral of wind in front of me.  Then I was falling.

 

I was gripping something in my hand- something around my neck- it was le Enchanteur’s bag! I knew I didn’t have much time, and quickly dug into it. The wings, miraculously, were at the top. I pulled them out and got them on just about the time I came out of the clouds into the rainstorm below them. I fought the wind and dodged the lightening bolts which were still half-heartedly chasing me, flying downwards as fast as I dared. It was still night, dark and pouring rain.

 

I had no idea where I was when I suddenly crashed into a tree. I grabbed hold of the trunk and hung on for a few seconds, catching my breath.  Lightening flared again and I saw I was at the top of a dense forest on a hillside. I realized that I was still in danger; this was the tallest tree in the area.

 

I launched myself in the direction of some other, shorter trees that I had seen in the glare from the lightening. I crashed into the next tree, too, and then just clung there. I was too exhausted to go down, too afraid to move. I huddled there with my arms around the trunk, straddling a branch, in the storm and rain, waiting for it to be over and daylight to come. I had no idea what had happened to the wonderful Acapella. I was very afraid for him.

 

Slowly the storm lessened, and as the sun rose over the tree filled horizon, it became a slow but steady drizzle. I was sore and tired, with no idea about what to do next. The canopy of the trees was so dense that I was afraid to fly down. I had already crashed into two trees and wasn’t too sure of my flying skills.

 

Then I heard a noise- a croaking noise, and a rustle of wings. A raven landed on the branch next to me, followed by several more. The rest of the flock followed, perching all around me in the tree top. The first raven looked at me and tilted his head, studying me carefully. Then he croaked again and hopped along the branch, looking back at me. He launched himself off the branch, and circled around and landed again. He looked at me expectantly.

 

“You want me to follow you?” I asked.

 

He bobbed his head and croaked in reply.

 

“I guess. I can’t stay here can I?” I said. I gathered up the last few shreds of my courage and what was left of my energy and followed the raven into the rainy air. The rest of the flock followed and surrounded me protectively. I flew with them through the trees, dodging branches and trunks and finally reached the ground. My legs wouldn’t work, and I just collapsed where I stood. The ravens landed around me looking concerned.

 

“Thank you. I’m on the ground now and I was starting to think I’d never be on the ground in one piece again. Truly, thank you.”

 

“You’re welcome,” the ravens said, “We were glad to help you,” and then they took off into the wet air. I just lay there for a while curled into a ball, and shivered with cold, reaction and fear for what may have happened to Acapella.

 

After a while I sat up, put the wings away, and took stock of things. I was alive, even if I was cold, sore, and scraped. I had no idea where the wind had blown us to, except that it was mountainous and densely covered with huge trees. My horse- my friend- was missing. My pack was gone.

 

I had le Enchanteur’s bag, my pocket knife, some matches in a waterproof case, and my worry stone in my pockets.  I had the tattered remains of my poncho around me but it was pretty useless after being ripped apart by the wind. My clothes were wet and I was wearing riding boots which were not the best choice for hiking. But I was alive. I staggered to my feet and stumbled downhill through the drizzle. I would try to find a stream to follow. Streams usually lead somewhere eventually. At least that way I wouldn’t be traveling in circles.

One Response to “Storm in the Night”

After the Storm

May 22, 2007

I walked downhill for quite a while in the drizzle and gusty wind.  The huge canopy of trees overhead kept some of the rain off of me, but it still managed to drip through on me. The gusts of wind shook cold shower baths onto me from the water laden branches. I was a sad and sorry soaking wet sight, limping through the forest.

I passed through an area where all but the biggest of the huge trees were uprooted and slung around, and even these had branches torn off. It looked like giants had been clearing the land and playing with the trees. They looked miserable, these ravaged trees. I realized that this was where the twister the storm had spawned had touched down. It cut a long swath down the side of the mountain, and I had to pick my way through the devastation very carefully.

Eventually, I came upon a tiny little brook trying to burst out of its small banks with the sudden addition of all the rain, and I followed it. It led, as I knew it would, to a larger brook. By the time I reached the bottom of the mountain, the stream was a good sized one, quite full from all the rain. The stream pushed its way through the canyon between two mountainsides. I stayed as close to it as I could and still follow it safely. One time I had to take a sizable detour when the canyon walls beside it grew steep and the water grew swift and white.

I was exhausted to begin with, and was rapidly running out of any remaining energy, and those riding boots just weren’t doing my feet any good at all. Luckily, I soon found what I had been hoping for. A small rocky overhang was visible from the stream bed, easily accessible yet high enough to be safe from most flash floods. I crossed the icy stream at a shallow point and hiked up to the little overhang. It was even better than I had expected. There was a very shallow cave there, only about five feet deep, and six feet wide, with the overhang acting as a covered porch.  It was barely tall enough for me to stand up in. The floor was sandy, and there was a drift of dead leaves caught at the very back of the cave. It was dry and protected. I was delighted. I checked the leaves to make sure they didn’t have any prior tenants of the venomous or toothed variety, and finding them safe, I took some to start a fire with because they were actually dry, and left the rest for a bed.

I scrounged up some wood that wasn’t soaked from some nearby crevasses in the hillside and made a small fire ring at the mouth of the cave. I soon had a fire going and was warming up. I really wished I had something to eat, but I didn’t know anything about the plants in this area. I decided the best thing would be to just go to sleep since I hadn’t slept for more that a day. I scraped the leaves into a cushiony pile and using my tattered poncho as a cover, fell asleep in nothing flat. I woke up briefly when thunder boomed overhead, but realized I was in a fairly safe place and went right back to sleep.

When I awoke again, it was dark out and my fire had been out so long the embers were cold. I made it up again and sat there for a while in the dark, listening to the rain on the overhang. The small cave warmed up quickly and I soon feel back asleep.

Morning came slowly. I woke up so hungry I thought perhaps I could eat my own arm – raw, not roasted – and began to pull myself together for another day’s rough hiking. I made sure to scatter the remains of my fire, and when I left the only way you could tell I had been there was a little bit of dry wood stacked at the back of the cave.  It had stopped raining for the time being, but it was still overcast. The stream below me was rushing and quite full from all the rain. I made sure to walk a bit higher up the hill side just in case it decided to flood; I knew how quickly a flash flood could rise from rains farther upstream.

After I had been walking for about half an hour through the damp and chilly forest, I saw the flock of ravens again. They swooped down and landed on tree branches all around me. I stopped walking and said, “Hello. Thank you for rescuing me yesterday. I don’t suppose you’d be willing to help me find a way out of here, would you? I need to find people soon, because I’m getting awfully hungry.”

The leader of the group cocked his head at me, and said, “Helpless as a half-fledged chick!”

I smiled wryly and said, “Actually, I think the chick would have it over me. At least he could probably find food!” 

The ravens laughed and one fluttered down to a bush by the stream. He plucked a berry from the bush, gulped it down, and said, “Good for people to eat.”

I went over to the bush and tried one of the berries. Sure enough, it tasted good. I waited a few minutes, tried another, and then waited a little longer. The raven looked put out that I was questioning his choice of edibles, but held his peace. Finally I decided that they would be safe to eat, and really I was at the point where I didn’t care all that much, I was so hungry. I took a handful and ate them slowly, and then another handful.  I ended up clearing that bush of berries and felt much better. Once again I thanked the ravens. “You’ve saved me more than once now and I am very, very grateful. If I can help you in any way, please let me know.” The ravens croaked, swirled around me, and flew off.

I continued for quite a while longer and then met with another problem. There was a huge rocky outcrop, like a giant wall, blocking my path. The stream flowed fast and deep through a small gap in the wall.  I was going to have to hike quite a distance away from the stream to get around this one. With these riding boots on, I didn’t dare try to climb over the rocks. They were just too slippery.

As I hiked up hill, the ravens came back. This time, they didn’t land, but flew around and around my head. I was getting dizzy watching them when the leader lit in front of me. “Come and help,” he said.

I was pleased to be able to return the favors this soon and followed the birds up hill for quite a distance. The sound of the rushing stream faded away and I was left with the swishing of the ravens’ wings and the dripping of the trees around me. They led me a long way into the forest and then stopped, circling a bush near a huge tree. I took a good look and saw a baby bird, which by its size and the color of its few feathers, was a young raven. One of the ravens spoke to me, “Bad wind blew him down,” and then he flew up into the tree. I looked up and could see a nest high above me. I thought for a few minutes and then took the wings out of my bag again. I hadn’t wanted to use them in the forest while I was searching for streams but I could use them to put the little bird back in his nest. I scooped him up and held him gently while I flew up.  Moments later he was safely back in his nest with his nest mates and mama making sure he was safe and well. One of the ravens told me, “See? Not as helpless as chick after all!” and they all laughed again.

Since I was up here already, I decided I might as well do some reconnaissance. I flew higher, above the tops of the trees, and looked out. The ridge of stone I had been trying to get around extended all the way to the top of this mountain, at least, and to the top of the one on the other side of the stream as well. Since it was not raining right now, I decided to fly for a while and at least get over the ridge. With the ravens flying around me, I flew off in the direction of the rock wall.

The wall was easy to cross in the air, of course, but after that I had some trouble finding the stream I had been following, because the trees were so dense. All I could see were treetops in all directions. I followed the valley between the two hills in hopes that the stream still ran there and looked for a good place to land. While I was looking, I saw something hanging in a tree, quite high up. I flew over for a closer look and saw that it was my backpack. The bedroll was gone, I could see that from a distance, but it looked intact. I flew over and tried to grab it, but it was stuck on the branch. After a lot of tugging and unsolicited advice from the ravens, I got it loose and promptly landed to check it out.

The bedroll was indeed gone, and so were the little cooking kit and canteen that hung on the outside. The stuff inside was still all right, I was happy to see. It was so stuffed that nothing had gotten very tumbled around. The clothes on the top and outside layers were a little damp where rain had been blown in the top, but that was all. I gratefully exchanged the riding boots for my hiking boots right away. Then I set off down hill, back towards the stream.

As I walked down hill, I saw other things caught up in the bushes and trees. The saddle bags, which I rescued, were tangled in a thorny bush. There was a saddle blanket dropped on some rocks and then the saddle itself with the girth torn and stirrups ripped off. It was lying in the middle of the stream. I left it there – the stream was moving too fast for me to risk getting it.  The saddle was too damaged to use, anyway, and I was at the limit of what I could carry. There was no sign of Acapella, which left me room for hope. Maybe he had survived this thing, too.

I sighed and tramped onward. Eventually I came upon a little game trail and followed that – it was far easier to walk on. The trail wound around, roughly following the stream, and soon I was beyond the first two mountains. Still the trees extended in every direction, but when I flew up to take a look around, I could see a lake and what looked like a clearing in the distance. I made for that, hoping that there would be people there. I kept walking, hoping I would find Acapella.

It was early afternoon by the time I found the lake. It was a big lake, with a grey surface roughed up into white caps by the gusts of wind. I could see no boats on it, or evidence of human habitation. I followed the shoreline around to where I had seen the clearing and as I approached it I could hear voices and music.

Music! It was wild, lilting music that danced into my ears and made me feel it in my very bones. I was pretty sure I had found a Gypsy camp.

It was a Gypsy camp, sure enough. I called out at the edge of it, not wanting to take anyone by surprise, and was surrounded by people within moments. They all wanted to know what I was doing out here by myself and why I looked so bedraggled. 

They fed me and gave me steaming hot cups of tea while I told my story, and then played me music.  They had not seen anything of Acapella, and although everyone agreed that it had been a terrible, fierce storm, they too were hopeful that he was still alive. “After all, this is one of Tilly’s magnificent horses, is it not? They are magical and intelligent. If any could have survived this, he could have,” one of the Gypsies told me.  They had hunters coming back to camp later in the day. Maybe they would have some word of him.

The Gypsies told me that I could travel with them – they were heading for Duwamish Bay themselves, although it would be a long trip. The storm had blown us far off course. They wouldn’t be moving on until tomorrow, since the hunters were still out. They taught me some new tunes for my little wooden flute and I got a chance to get dry and rest for a while.

About dusk, I heard a shout.  The hunters were returning. They had quite a bit of game with them, and a figure that I greeted with a cry of joy. Limping in, head down and clearly exhausted, was Acapella! He neighed ecstatically and trotted over to me. We just hugged for a few minutes.

I could hear the hunters talking behind me, “He thought he had lost his rider and friend forever in that wind. He was so very sad. Obviously, this is the one he thought he had lost, no?” Someone came up behind me and slapped me on the back. Then someone else was leading him away for a hot bran mash and a good grooming. I followed along. He and I were talking the whole while, telling our stories to each other.

He had finally escaped the twister after the wind had pulled all the tack off of him and was distracted by playing with that for a few minutes. He had galloped away as fast as he could and then got caught in a down draft which sent him crashing through the trees to the forest floor. It was far too windy for him to risk going back up that night. He was worried sick about me, and only hoped that somehow I had survived. Despite the fact that his leg was sore, he had planned to go back up tonight and begin looking for me.

We decided to travel with the Gypsies for a few days while his injuries healed and then set off for Duwamish Bay in the night sky again. This time, though, we would be sure to pick a clear night!

- She Wolf (c) May 2007

Through the Forest and Down the Road, To Duwamish Bay We Go

June 4, 2007

Acapella and I soared through the night- this time the sky was crystal clear and sparkling with stars. The air was crisp and chill and as refreshing as a long draught of ice cold water on a hot day. We laughed as he raced along the starry trails, heading as straight as we could towards Duwamish Bay. This night was just made for riding the night sky.
All too soon, I could see streaks of red and orange on the horizon, and I knew we wouldn’t quite make it to Duwamish Bay in this one night. We were close, I knew, but Acapella said we would be about an hour’s gallop short of town. That being the case, we decided to land and find a nice spot to take a little rest before we went the rest of the way on foot.

Acapella trotted down to the ground in a clearing just as the first rays of the sun peeked over the horizon, and we were quickly enveloped in the trees of the forest, where the sun had not yet penetrated and the light was still grey. Dew had formed and the forest was dripping with it, damp and chill. A few birds chirped sleepily, and some sort of small animal rustled in the branches above us. Acapella’s hooves crunched quietly on the leafy carpet as we wound in between the big old trees.

“I saw the road a little ways off when we were still in the air,” he told me, “But I thought we’d find a better place for a little nap here in the woods.”

I agreed with him, and we wandered a little farther before I saw the perfect spot. It was a very small clearing underneath a big fir tree – like a little tent with a smooth carpet of fir needles. It smelled nice and fresh, and it was fairly dry. I dismounted and took all the gear off Acapella and then gave him a good grooming. He whickered with pleasure, which made me happy, too. Then I grabbed a snack out of the stash the Gypsies had given us, and lay down under the tree. As I stared up into the branches and watched the sky grow lighter behind them, I relaxed and fell into a deep sleep.

Much, much later I roused to Acapella calling me, “She Wolf! She Wolf! Wake up now! Hurry, before it’s too late!”
I was very groggy and this did not make any sense at all. I struggled to drag myself up from the bottom of the well of sleep I was in. Finally, I was able to open my eyes.  Looking up through the branches, I could tell it was probably around noon, with clear weather. Acapella was still calling me. I sat up and answered, “What? Too late for what?” I may have sounded just a little bit cranky – I don’t wake up too well.

“Get out of there NOW!” my equine friend shouted.

I got up and pushed through the low hanging branches, only to find my way barred by a huge toadstool. I looked to the side and there was another one. On the other side was still another. I tried to go out the other side of my tree-tent and found that way blocked, too. I was completely ringed in by fungi taller than I was, set so close together I couldn’t squeeze through them. “What the hell?!” I exclaimed.

I could hear Acapella on the other side. He was clearly agitated. “They were almost grown by the time I woke up!” he shouted. “Then I tried to wake you up, but you wouldn’t! I don’t know what they are or why they’re here, but this doesn’t look good!”

He was right. This didn’t look good. In fact, it looked very bad. The words Fairy Ring popped into my mind. I knew that if this was, indeed, a Fairy Ring, I was in for some trouble.

I heard a thumping on the other side of the wall of toadstools and some of them shook. Acapella’s voice came to me, a little distant and jarred. “I’m trying to kick them down, but they’re just absorbing the blows. I’ve dented them a little, that’s all!”

“Don’t hurt yourself, Acapella,” I answered. “Hang on a minute. I want to try something.”

I pushed back inside the canopy and reached up for a branch. They were low enough down and close enough together that I had no trouble grabbing hold and pulling myself up into the tree. I quickly clambered up above the level of the fungi and pushed aside some of the branches above me to get a clear view. I could see Acapella below me and the ring – made of the classic red and white polka-dotted toadstools -all around the tree. Beneath me something was happening – I could hear strange noises and a crystalline ringing sound. There were some far-off voices, too.

Now I was sure this was a Fairy Ring, and the inviting tree-tent was actually a portal for some of the fair folk. I was pretty sure they wouldn’t be happy to find a mortal inhabiting their doorway and I had no desire to be taken Underhill for goodness knows how long. I figured that le Enchanteur would rescue me, but I also knew that time runs differently in the fairy realms and didn’t want to risk becoming an elderly She Wolf there while waiting for a rescue that only took a few days here.

I whispered loudly at Acapella, “Up here!”

He looked up and moved over by the toadstools closest to me. I wiggled out on a branch above the fungi and as it dipped down with my weight, I slid down it until I was on the red and white cap of the fungus. I slipped down that, too, and onto Acapella’s back. He stepped away, and I slid off of him and grabbed our gear. There was no sense in leaving anything they could trace us with if they were annoyed that we had been here.

As the voices – beautiful, silvery voices, like so many magical flutes – came closer, we slipped quietly away into the forest. Ten minutes later we were on the road and galloping towards Duwamish Bay.

The rest of our trip was not exciting at all, and I for one was glad. When we trotted into the familiarity of Duwamish Bay and up to the Inn, I was just plain relieved. This had been one memorable trip.

- She Wolf (c) June 2007

The Sands of Duwamish Bay

June 8, 2007

After I had settled Acapella at the stables and put my belongings in a room at the Inn in Duwamish Bay, I decided that I needed to get out and walk around or I would fall fast asleep and not be able to sleep that night. I walked over to the Dolphin Baths, but the dolphins weren’t there today. I walked over by the harbor and watched the gulls flying for a while. The boats were all out and there really wasn’t anything going on here in the middle of the afternoon.Finally, I decided to walk along the shore for a while. The tide was running out and there would be a good bit of beach exposed for a while. Maybe I could see some sea creatures in tide pools or something.

I took my boots off and tied the laces together to make them easy to carry. Then I set off away from town along the shores of the Duwamish Bay. It was peaceful and the sun was warm and pleasant. I watched shore birds hunting small things to eat and watched the small things try to scuttle away to safety. Rocks divided the shore into little coves – private little sandy rooms.

In one of these coves, I found people digging for clams where the tide had gone out. I watched for a while and then tried my hand at the digging, much to the amusement of the local people. We laughed and they offered me some of the clams, but I declined. I wanted to keep on exploring and didn’t want to carry them.

About half and hour’s walk from town, I started to hear voices – children’s voices. I climbed up on the rocks separating this section of the beach from the next and looked down. This little beach was full of children. It looked like every child in town must be here. Big, small, and in between, they were all busily engaged in building sand castles.

The sand castles were of all sizes and shapes. Some of the children worked alone and others worked in groups. The children were laughing and shouting and planning together. It all looked like fun.

“Hello!” I called, “May I join you?”

The children stopped what they were doing and looked up at me. Several of them looked at each other and the oldest ones – they looked to be twelve or so – said, “All right, sure, only…” They paused and shrugged.

I caught their drift. “I promise not to be bossy and take over or anything like that. It just looks like fun to build sandcastles.”

“Okay!” came the reply and I scrambled over the rocks onto the sand. At first I just walked around looking at what the children were making. The sandcastles were remarkable. They were very detailed – the children were careful to use sand that was just wet enough to mold. They had buckets and tin pails and little shovels and cups which they used to make the basic shapes of the castles. They were decorated with rocks and shells and even feathers left by seagulls. One enterprising child had brought along some leaves and flowers and was using these as decorations. Older children were helping the littler ones and everyone was busy.

Finally I found a castle that I could help on. The children making it were a little bit behind the others and one of them handed me a bucket and asked me to go and get some water in it to wet the sand a little bit more. I did as I was asked and soon I was very involved in creating a large sand house. The children said theirs wasn’t a castle. They didn’t want to participate in the battle.

“The battle?” I asked.

The children giggled and replied, “You’ll see!”

We worked for quite some time and everyone finished up about the same time, just before the tide began to turn. Buckets were filled in the bay and used to fill the moats around the castles. Then several of the children did something strange.

They went over to the rocks and climbed up above the high-tide mark. One of them reached into a small cave and began handing out little boxes. All the other children ran up and grabbed these and took them to their castles. As I watched, the children set up toy soldiers- hundred of them, all in different styles and colors of paint. There were infantry and cavalry and artillery, all sandy and well used.

The children I had helped, and a few others, took boxes that were marked differently. These turned out to be full of doll’s house families instead of soldiers. One smiling child carried off a box that proved to be full of toy farm animals.

The children saw me looking and said, “There’s a set of zoo animals, too. The littlest ones like the farm and the zoo and the Noah’s Ark best. Most of us prefer the soldiers, though.”

The children hurried to set up the toys. There was some discussion over where the soldiers should go, and some regrouping of the little units, but just as the tide turned, one of the older children called out, “All right! It’s time! Here we go!”

And as I watched in wonder, the toy soldiers began to move. They came to life and attacked the sandcastles. The doll’s house families moved, too, and so did the farm animals. All of the toys came to life just as the tide turned.

The children cheered on their favorites and watched excitedly as some of the castles began to fall to the little soldiers.

One of the children explained, “We try to see who can make the best castle. The ones that last the longest are the best. But it doesn’t count if you just make a big pile of sand. It has to look right, too. Some times we put two sets of soldiers on one castle. The set that gets their flag to the top first, wins.

The children were running around and supervising the battles, picking up the toys that had gotten knocked down and putting them in their boxes. “If they get knocked down, they’re out,” the child beside me said. One child ran around refilling moats, carefully avoiding stepping on the toys.

The children with doll’s house people and farm animals were contentedly watching their toys go about their business. Little piles of shells, rocks and vegetation were being used by the toys to make things and decorate the houses. One very small child told another, “I think they like the house better this time than they did last time. Look! They’re really fixing it up!”

I was entranced everything and had forgotten about the tide. I was surprised when the oldest ones called out, “Tide’s almost up to the rock! Get ready to pick everything up!”

As the water reached the lowest of the rocks, all the toys fell still once more. The children discussed whose castle had looked the best and which ones had withstood the battles the best as they picked up all of the toys and placed them carefully back in the boxes.

“Would you make sure everything gets picked up?” a sand-covered child asked me. I did, rescuing one little soldier from the bottom of a moat and another from underneath the ruins of a tower.

By the time the water reached the first of the castles, everything was picked up. The children sighed contentedly and lined up to put the boxes back in the cave in the rocks.

“That was fun,” the one of the children I had helped said. “I wish it happened more than once a month.”
“No,” replied another, “then it wouldn’t be as special.”

I went over to the older children who were up in the rocks and began handing up boxes.

The children putting away the boxes explained to me, “Every month, on the full moon, this happens. The toys come to life just from the lowest point of the tide until the tide reaches the first rocks. It’s happened for years. We call it Cove Day. Our parents used to come here and do this, and so did their parents. Some of the toys that we play with were theirs, even. We don’t know why it happens, but it’s only in this cove. Usually, our parents make sure we have Cove Day off, if we’ve been good. You better believe we try to be good, so we aren’t grounded! No one wants to miss this. Sometimes our parents aren’t too busy and come along. That’s okay once in a while, but…”
“I know!” I laughed. “Thank you for letting me stay. I’ve seen some amazing things in my time, but this one was special. Thanks for sharing!”

The children finished putting things away and then stood at the top of the beach to watch the bay roll in and wash away the castles. Then, sandy and happy, they ran off for home and their suppers.

I walked back slowly, savoring the magic of the day along with the sunset.