Wolf Dreams

Segue From Here to There 

 The house wasn’t usually quite this loud, but then everyone wasn’t usually home at once. My daughter and her boyfriend were playing a video game in the family room and cheering each other on. My mother was in her room, listening to a game show on TV - and she is a bit deaf. I could hear the particulars three rooms away, with the door shut. My husband was in the front room on his laptop computer listening to a sports station on the radio. It had to be loud enough to be heard over everything else, didn’t it? The basement wasn’t immune, either. I could hear “A Night On Bald Mountain” thundering up from the eldest son’s bedroom below me. He said he couldn’t hear the quiet parts if the volume was too low. He did apologize for the loud parts being really loud whenever he turned up like that. At least he didn’t do this at night since I complained. The other basement bedroom, that of the youngest son, had a strong hip-hop beat emanating from it. His subwoofer was certainly impressive. I hid in the bedroom and put my bags together. Let’s see now - matches, pocketknife, string: check. Sock knitting bag with spare wool: check. Colored pencils, favorite pen, pencils, paper journal and sketch pad: check. My little wooden flute from the Renaissance Fair: check. Spare clothing: check. Hiking boots on the wool-socked feet, sturdy jeans, baseball cap, t-shirt and warm sweater on me: check. Water bottle and snacks: check. I bundled up a lightweight blanket in a waterproof poncho and tied it to the pack. You never knew…

As I switched over to my computer bag, the noises from the house grew louder still. I could hear youngest son and his buddy thundering up and down the basement stairs, young male baritone voices rumbling loudly. The canary, linneolated parakeets and the budgies all reveled in the noises and sang or chirped at the tops of their lungs. The front door slammed, all four dogs went berserk barking, and another male voice greeted them. “Hey, has anybody seen my mail?” Second son was dropping by. He really needed to get his mail sent to his apartment, but at least this meant we could see him when he stopped by to pick it up. I heard a thump and a doggy scramble. Someone was playing fetch with the dogs, tossing the ball down the hallway.

I picked up my laptop, my wacom tablet and a few spare discs. I also grabbed my camera and the package of batteries for it. I checked to make sure that my jump drive was in its usual spot in the camera case. It was. I found a book I had been wanting to read but had mislaid and cheerfully added it to the mix.

Hmmm…My toiletries! I snagged my travel kit from the bathroom and added a first aid kit and some wet wipes. Excellent. Undoubtedly, there would be things I missed, but this would have to do for now.

“Go! GO! YES!!”

“HEY DUDE! LOOK AT THIS!”

“And our next contestant…”

BARK! Grrrrr….bark! ROFF! (thump thud thump) Bark!

Tweeee….chirp chirp chrrrr…..

“HEY! MY MAIL?”

“Don’t do that!”

Thump thump thump thump….

“Our next caller wants to talk about the team’s failure to score…”

“Doggone it! You guys go someplace else with that ball…”

CRASH! Thump thud…

DUH dah duh duh duh dah DAHHHHH…..

Bump thump thump…

The wind was starting to pick up, too. That was nothing unusual. We always have a lot of wind here.

I grabbed a few last, but very important, things. My bag from Enchanteur with its new addition of Adventure Calendar and my walking staff with the head of the wolf had to come with me. I was ready.

I looked outside. The snow had thickened and it was becoming a white-out. I couldn’t see the backyard fence now, just a wall of white. I had been joking with the eldest son a few days earlier, saying that I didn’t consider it a blizzard until I couldn’t see the other side of the street anymore. This definitely qualified.

The wind howled louder and louder, the normal noises of my household blending into the noise. I picked up my coat and then put it down again. I knew I wouldn’t need it where I was going; it was warmer there. The big question now was - where was the portal. I had used all sorts of portals into Lemuria in the past. I had no clue what this one was going to be like.

The wind howled so loudly that it blended into the noises of the house and the wall of snow pushed right up against the bedroom window. Strange - the direction of the wind seemed to have shifted. The storm looked like it was going to come right through…

A spiral of snowflakes came at me. At first it reminded me of what it was like to drive into a snowstorm on the highway. The flakes are mesmerizing, swirling right into the headlights and windshield. Then I saw that they were spinning, spinning, spinning into a white tunnel. The wind and the household sounds were completely one now, and the snowflake swirl came roaring through the wall into the bedroom yet the wall and window were still standing.

“I think my ride is here!” I called into the chaos outside the bedroom door. I picked up my bags and smiled, and stepped into the maelstrom.

WHOOOOOSHHHHHH!!!!!!

It was a rough ride, this one, and cold at first. The snowflakes stung my face and hands and since I had left my coat I was chilled through in seconds. Then I found that the blue wool cloak that I wear in Lemuria was suddenly around me.  The air grew warmer too. The farther I walked, the warmer things became. The white whirling around me slowly changed in texture and color. It became finer and a little less pure white in color. The roaring of the wind changed subtly, too. It seemed more like a people-noise, as it had at home. I kept walking, and the snow crunching underfoot melted away to sand crunching underfoot. The winds and swirling stuff began to clear and then I walked out onto a beach in the sunshine. It was crowded with people. People of all sizes and shapes, laughing, talking, selling things, eating things, juggling, playing musical instruments… It was incredibly noisy and somehow familiar.

“Fruits! Who will buy my ripe fruits!?”

“Two sausages for the price of one!”

“Hurry, hurry, hurry…See the man with two heads! See the India Rubber Man! See the half-dog-half-cat! Hurry, hurry, hurry!”

“My balloon! Wahhhh!”

I caught the string on the bright red balloon as it sailed past me and returned it to its small owner, who promptly stopped crying and smiled.

The swirl of humanity around me was stunning. I watched a pair of people juggle with fiery sticks and then paused to listen to a musician singing a ballad with a lonely, longing refrain. The warm sun was melting the icy feeling in my bones. A grinning girl called to me and tossed me a ripe fruit and I grinned back and bit into it, juice running down my chin.

Some dogs frolicked past with a stick, chasing each other into the water’s edge and barking joyfully. Gull and other birds wheeled overhead, their calls adding to the mix of sounds.

A company of acrobats cartwheeled and spun across the beach. I turned to watch them and the water itself caught my eye. It was as full as the beach was. Boat with vendors darted among the fishing boats, boats with families were tied up here and there, boats with entertainers wandered among them all looking for an audience. The place was an incredible mix of sight and sound. It had to be Rainbow Beach.

A Strange Tale

 

The floating pageant stage really came to life after dark. I always enjoy the performances of my fellow travelers, but I was a bit apprehensive about my own. I tell stories. I am most comfortable telling stories to a small group, not on a stage in front of who-knows-how-many people, half of whom have been consuming interesting things to drink. They would want something showier and maybe a little bit rowdier than a simple story.

Still, my turn came in due time, and I moped my way to a boat, across the water and then backstage. I dropped my pack in the wings, but before I could go out onto the stage itself, a young woman stopped me.

She was an interesting looking young woman - lovely, dressed in flowing silk robes, with thick, glossy auburn hair. She moved with an incredible grace, and I thought she must be a dancer.

“Oh, are you next? I am sorry. I didn’t mean to take your spot!” I said, looking around for a way out. (I was grasping at excuses to run for it.)

“No, no, you are next, but we have a moment or two…You were going to tell a story, weren’t you?”

“Yes, well, it’s what I do…I’m not sure it’s the best thing for this crowd, but I don’t know what else to do. I can’t dance, my singing is best done in a group, and I don’t know how to turn cartwheels or juggle. So I ‘m kind of stuck.”

She smiled at me. It was friendly, but just a little bit predatory, as if it were a part of her personality that she couldn’t help showing. “You have a little bamboo flute, don’t you?”

I burst out laughing. “I don’t know how you know that, but yes, I do. I didn’t even put it in the list of things I can’t do because playing it is far down the list. I can play a scale if I get my embouchure just right and I can manage “Do, A Deer”, “Ode to Joy” and a few other staples if you don’t mind lots of mistakes. I play for my own pleasure, and I try to do it away from people to reduce the winces I get.” I was still laughing.

She said, “Take it out.”

“Excuse me?”
“I said take it out. Now.” This was the voice of someone who was accustomed to being obeyed.

I eyed her warily. “If you insist.” I rummaged around in my bag and pulled it out. It was a small bamboo flute that I bought at a Renaissance Faire a few years back, with a pattern rather like feathers or dragon scales wood-burned onto it. It made a nice sound, when I could get it right.

She reached over and took the flute, inspecting it carefully, “Yes, this is the one.” She handed it back to me. “You will play it tonight. You will improvise; play what comes into your head.” She looked me in the eyes, and I saw that hers were…odd looking. They were a strange golden color and there was something not quite ordinary about the shape of the pupils…Before I could pinpoint what was off, she grinned at me. The show of teeth was startling and distracted me. There was definitely something predatory about her grin.

I began edging away from her. “If you want a comedy act, okay, I’ll do it. Should I add in some funny comments, too?” She was making me very uneasy for a lot of reasons.

“No, just play. I think you will be surprised.”

I was in the process of saying, “No, you’re the one who’s going to be surprised…” when she suddenly grabbed me and propelled me out onto the stage, flute in hand.

I stood there blinking in the bright lights. The audience had gone silent when I stumbled out and I could hear the water lapping at the floating stage.

I took a deep breath to calm myself, and put the flute to my lips. For once, I got my embouchure correct on the first try, and a pure clear note came out, filling the silence. Tentatively, I played another note, and then another. They all sounded far better than my usual noises. I was playing the flute the way I had always to play it.

Somewhere inside of me I was shouting, “That lady did something magical to my flute!” but the rest of me was too busy playing to really think about it.

Then the real magic happened. As I played, the notes flowing from the flute did something strange and became visible. They started out as whisps of fog or smoke and then they took on colors. After the colors swirled across the stage, they began to form pictures. As I stood on one side of the stage playing the flute, the smoke-pictures on the other side of the stage began to tell a story - a story about a dragon.

It was a simple story, with the dragon dancing in the air, clearly sad and lonely. Then it found another dragon. The two of them then danced together, soaring across the stage in joyous flight. It was a ballet of smoke, dancing to the tune of my little bamboo flute.

When I finally could play no more, the smoke-dragons swirled together into a glowing globe, hung there for a moment over the stage and then slowly dissipated. I was left alone on the stage, holding my flute and looking stunned. As the crowd’s applause began, I gathered myself together enough to bow and then hurried off the stage.

Backstage, I looked around for the woman who had told me to play my flute, but I couldn’t find here anywhere. I asked the stage hands. “A lady, about this tall, auburn hair? She moved like a dancer…”
The stage hands swore they had never seen anyone like that on the floating platform.

I looked at the little flute in my hands - the little flute with its pattern like dragon scales - and I thought about the dancing dragons and the woman that I knew I had seen, with her unusual grace and her predatory smile and her strange eyes.

I had been given a gift - to play the flute the way I wanted to, even if it was only for a little while. I had also been given the gift of a wonderful performance for the crowd, something they would remember and talk about. They might even be interested in some of my stories later, when things were quieter and we were sitting around a fire somewhere. And I knew that as I traveled, I was going to keep my eyes out for that woman - the dragon woman, as I was beginning to think of her.

I blew on the flute experimentally. It sounded like usually did when I played it. But that was all right, because I had the memory of playing it with more than a touch of magic for a little while.

The Trip to Triton’s Lair

 

Rainbow Beach was a blast. I hung out with the others, shopped for a new swimsuit and shorts at the bazaar, ogled the buff boys on the beach, took in some movies at the drive-in, and generally had some fun. I rounded out the stay with a trip to the salon and got my hair and nails done. I knew it wouldn’t last, but it was nice to be pampered and that nail polish was such a wicked shade of red that I couldn’t resist it.

Finally I realized that I had put off the inevitable as long as I could and I went down to the docks to see about a boat and some diving gear- it was time to see Triton. The truth was, I was putting it off because I had no idea what on earth I was going to appease him with. Something old, something new, and something borrowed? If it was borrowed, how was I going to appease him with it? Didn’t I need to give it back, or it wouldn’t be borrowed any more? Every time I tried to figure this one out, I got a headache. Of course, that could have been a side effect of too much partying on the beach, too…

At any rate, I found a little boat that was headed out on a tour of the islands first thing in the morning - just a day trip, but they had room for one more and were quite willing to spend a few hours by the dive spot for Triton’s lair. The skipper said that the reef surrounding it was a great place for the other passengers to snorkel while I went to see Triton. I paid for my passage and then went in search of a diving shop. By dinner time, I had rented some diving gear and had gotten a quick lesson on using it. I have been swimming since before I can remember and it didn’t take long to learn to use the equipment.

First thing in the morning, I stored my bags in a rented locker at the marina, gathered my courage and a few small items in a water-proof bag and joined the rest of the tourists on the boat. The other passengers were a mixed lot - some academic type who was rhapsodizing about some rare species of fish he hoped to see on the reef, an entertainer from one of the bars who was clearly planning on working on her tan, a rather stuffy fellow who had made a fortune in the pearl market and his new bride, and a young person on vacation from the family farm who was excited just to be going out on a boat. The captain and his one crewman sailed the boat. There was something about this group that made me feel vaguely uneasy, but I wasn’t sure why. I said hello and then excused myself from the group.

On the trip out to the diving spot, I sat by myself in the bow of the boat listening to the snap of the sails and splash of the water, and poked through my offerings. I had an old carving of a seahorse that I had bought at the bazaar (something old), a necklace of bright plastic beads (something new) and a silk handkerchief I had borrowed from the innkeeper, with the promise that I would replace it if necessary. I wasn’t happy with this selection of offerings - there was nothing of me in it, and I had a sinking suspicion that my offerings needed to be a bit more personal. I was truly stumped.

All too soon, we were at the edge of the reef surrounding the hole I was to dive in. The captain promised to wait two hours for me - I only had enough air for that long, so this had better be long enough. I was just getting ready to strap on my tanks when I heard a shout from one of the other passengers. I looked up and saw a boat bearing down on us at a tremendous rate of speed. A booming noise filled the air and something large hit the water beside our boat with a huge splash.

“PIRATES!” screamed the captain, scrambling to pull up the anchor and set the sails as quickly as possible. He didn’t have enough time, though, before the pirates were on us, grappling hooks and lines pulling our little boat close to their larger one. They swarmed over our boat, herding us with swords and knives into a group on the bow and then efficiently plundering the boat and everyone’s belongings for anything of value.

Finally the pirate captain turned to us. “All right, lessee what ye have on ye, ye lousy bunch o’ fish bait. Cooperate and let’s get this over with and we’ll be on our way and ye can be on yers.” His smile was that of a tiger ready to pounce, accented by gold teeth at either end.

Each of the passengers in turn was searched - the pearl merchant and his wife got special attention and yielded quite a lot for the pirates.

I managed to be last. When I handed my bag of offerings for the Triton to the pirates, the captain pulled out the carving of the sea horse and then threw the rest of it down in disgust. “Is this the best ye can do?” he snarled. “Ye must have somethin’ better on ye. Even the teacher and the farm girl had a ring or a necklace on ‘em!” He moved in closer, peering at me.

I was terrified that he would find my bag from Enchanteur. It was on a thin cord around my neck, and hung very low. I had nestled it in my cleavage, hoping that it would go unnoticed. But the pirate’s eyes were sharp, and he spotted the cord. “What’s this? Holdin’ out on us? Pull that out, and lessee what yer hidin’,” he sneered.

I slowly pulled the bag out of my shirt and stood there, holding onto it. The items inside clinked softly. They were alone in the bag; I had left the money back in the locker with my other things.

The pirate’s face grew greedy. “Well lookee here, boys, I think we got one a’ them bags that that magic lady, Enchanteur, gives out to her travelers. I heered there was a fresh bunch of ‘em over in Rainbow Beach an’ I got a standin’ order fer these bags o’ goodies. We kin get a lot o’ gold fer this, from the right people. Yessiree, I think we just hit the jackpot!” As he reached for the bag, a sudden wind blew up and caught the partially set sails. The boat jerked abruptly, sending everyone staggering.

Arms flailing for balance, I teetered on the edge of the bow and then realized that this was my chance to escape. I stopped struggling to stay on my feet and went over the side,

splashing into the water and still holding on tight to my bag. Quickly, I swam under the water to the far side of the pirates’ boat where I would be out of sight temporarily.

When I surfaced, the wind was still blowing and pushing both of the boats erratically. I realized that I needed to move quickly before either the pirates caught up with me or I was bonked in the head by one of the boats. Thinking quickly, I rummaged in the bag that I still held and pulled out the anchor. I took a tremendously deep breath and held the anchor out.

The anchor began to grow. In seconds, I was holding onto a full sized anchor and was descending rapidly into the clear blue depths of the hole.

To the Bottom of the Sea

The anchor pulled me down into the chilly depths. There was little light down this deep though the waters were crystal clear; I could see just a little, but not much. Also, while I was descending quickly enough that I hadn’t needed to breathe yet, I knew that soon my lungs would feel like they were bursting.

Then I felt my feet sink into the soft sand at the bottom. The anchor in my hand shrank back to its previous tiny size and I clenched my hand around it before it could be lost at the bottom of the sea. Without the anchor to hold me down, I bobbed up off the bottom and drifted there in the still waters. My lungs were starting to feel the strain and I knew I needed to find air, fast.

I looked around and could see a faint light off to one side and began swimming in that direction as quickly as I could. I was pretty sure I didn’t have enough air to get me that far, but I knew I had to try. I knew I was swimming by some wonderful things deep under the water - fish and plants and coral and sunken treasures, but I didn’t have the time to look at any of them. I was frantic, hoping beyond hope to find air before I drowned.

Something came up behind me - something very, very large. I stopped and turned to look, thinking that it was a shark and I was done for sooner rather than later. To my surprise, I saw a whale. He hung there in the water, looking at me curiously. Then he said, “Little human, you have no air tanks with you. What are you doing down here with no air? Are you a new sort of human who has grown gills?”

I let the last bubbles of air out of my lungs, desperately fighting the urge to inhale.

“I see that you have not. And you are out of air. You will drown without air.” He paused and then continued, “I would say that you are out of time, little human, but I can help you there. I have lots of time, all saved up, and I don’t need every minute of it. If I let you borrow a little, there will be no harm to me!” He laughed, a sound that hurt my ears, even with the water to muffle it. “Here, take this - it’s a half hour or so, and I think that will see you to the next place with air in it. Of course, that would be the Triton’s lair, but there’s no help for that…”

I felt something change, and suddenly I didn’t feel the need to breath. I felt fresh and ready to swim again. I remembered the story that a ferry woman had told me long ago during another Lemuian adventure, that whales live mostly without a real connection to time, enjoying life as it comes. They hold it all back, until they think about things too much and then the stored time all comes rushing in at them, aging them immediately.  I thanked the whale with a huge smile.

He said, “Oh, don’t worry about it. If you can pay it back, all well and good, but if you can’t, I understand. Humans never seem to have any extra time. Just do something nice for someone else some time!” and with a flip of his tail he swam away.

I started swimming towards the light again, but not so frantically now. I could look around a bit and enjoy the scenery. There were multi-colored fish everywhere and wonderful creatures like anemones and starfish on the sea floor. I saw a sunken ship off in the distance - it looked like mermaids were playing around it. I wished I could join them, but I was aware that I only had so much borrowed time, and I shouldn’t squander it.

The light was farther off than it had appeared to be. It grew larger and brighter and finally I was in front of a cave, out of which the light was beaming. The cave itself was odd. I swam around the outside of it for a little bit, looking at it more closely. It was part of  a huge stone carving  of a dragon’s head. The cave was the mouth, with carved white teeth curving up and down around the opening. I swam up looked at the rest of the face. It was an Oriental sort of  dragon, with curling whiskers near the nose and big eyes with tufts of eyebrows above them. The scales were carefully carved into it, and altogether it was almost too real for me. Still, I didn’t have much choice if I wanted to see Triton because I would give odds that this was his lair.

Summoning up my courage, I swam back down and into the open mouth. I could feel a current flowing out of the cave, and had to swim hard to get through it. Swimming upstream down the stone dragon’s throat, I went deep into the cave and into the bright light.

Suddenly the current ended and I was swimming easily in the light-flooded water surrounded by jewel-toned fish. I stopped and it felt like I was floating in light itself.

I felt something grab my arms and pull me up and moments later I bobbed up to the surface. Looking around, I could see that I was in a vast underwater cave. The roof sparkled and glittered in the light shining up from the water and the walls were covered with bright mosaics of sea life. I heard giggles behind me and turned to see two mermaids swimming off - they must have been the ones to pull me to the surface. I looked in the direction they were swimming and saw a magnificent throne rising out of the waters in the middle of the cave. The light was flooding out from under it. The throne itself was a huge sea shell carved to hold a seat, with sea shells and other treasures set all around it. And sitting in the middle of it all was Triton.

He smiled at me, but there was no warmth in the gesture. I winced slightly, smiled back, and said, “Greetings, Triton. I am sent by Enchanteur.”

“I thought as much. Come closer, human.”

I swam up to the base of the throne and hoisted myself out of the water to sit on the edge.

“Up here. You will sit here and show me what you have brought to appease me,” he commanded.

I ascended the steps and came to a small seat just below his and sat there. “I had gifts, but lost them to the pirates who attacked the boat I was on,” I said. “I don’t know what I can give you now.”

“Pirates? Near my dwelling? I think not!” he roared. Triton clapped his hands - they made a sound like thunder. “Send the Siren. Those pirates will rue the day they came near my lair!” he snarled.

“Umm…Triton?” I ventured. “What about the people on the boat I came on? Will they be ensnared too?”

“Probably. But I will send some others to rescue them. They will be safe. Now, human, what can you possibly appease me with?”

“Triton, I am a teller of tales. Could I tell you a story, perhaps?”

“I love stories. You may indeed tell me a story - or two, or three… I believe the standard appeasement is something old, something new and something borrowed?” His eyes glistened with anticipation.

“Right then. I’ll start with something old. My mother likes to tell stories about her childhood, growing up on a farm during the Depression…” I told him some of the stories my mother has told me and my children over the years and soon had him laughing.

“Very good! That will do for something old!” he said. “Now for the new?”

I told him the story of the pirates, and my lucky escape. His brows furrowed with annoyance. “Those scoundrels won’t be trying that again anytime soon!” he vowed. “And last, something borrowed.”

I slumped and shook my head. “I don’t know what to tell you. I had a borrowed silk handkerchief for you, but…the only thing I have borrowed now is borrowed time. I am living on it. Or I was, while I was swimming. You see, when I went over the side of the boat, I didn’t have my oxygen tanks on yet. I was ready to drown when a whale spotted me and loaned me some of his time so I could finish the swim here and not drown.”

Triton looked at me. “I will admit to wondering how you managed to get here without air tanks. That is certainly something borrowed. And since you used that borrowed time to come and appease me, we will call it good.” He reached into a nook in his throne and took out a beautiful piece of red coral. “Take this with my blessings. I have enjoyed your tales very much.”

I took the coral and thanked him profusely. Then he reached into another place in his throne, drawing out a shell with a long thong attached to it. “This is another gift for you. Had your appeasements not suited me, I would have had that pouch that I know you wear around your neck. Since they did indeed suit me, I will give you this new gift for it. I think you will enjoy it, and it will get you safely to the surface once more. It is a magic shell - just put it to your mouth and breathe whenever you need air. You will never need air tanks again. When you reach the surface, it will shrink down small enough to fit in that pouch of yours. Just remove it whenever you have need of it and it will grow large again. I know you will use it well.” He smiled again, and this time there was warmth in the smile. “Now go. I will send some dolphins to take you back to Rainbow Beach since your boat is currently dealing with the Siren. Do not worry about your former shipmates - they will be safely back by nightfall.” Then he clapped his hands in thunderous boom once more, and several dolphins leapt into the air, flipping and laughing. “Your escorts,” said the Triton.

I thanked him again, looped the magic shell’s thong around my neck and plunged into the water with the dolphins. What an incredible gift the Triton had given me! I was excited about the trip back to Rainbow Beach.

It was as wonderful as I thought it would be. The dolphins and I played in the deep waters and swam around sunken ships, playing tag with the mermaids. They showed me all sorts of undersea wonders, and when we finally made it back to the port, they promised to look me up again sometime so we could play and explore some more. I waded ashore, happy and thoroughly water logged. I must admit I got some strange stares, coming up out of the water like that, but I didn’t care. I had just had an incredible adventure.

The Sparkle

 The trip to Mudjimba was uneventful. I was grateful. A nice peaceful boat trip with no pirates and no trouble was definitely a good thing. When the bottom of the boat ground against the sandy shore of the island, I rolled up my pants cuffs and stepped out into the foam at the water’s edge. I shouldered my pack and made sure I had all of my things with me. I didn’t know where I was going next and I wanted to be prepared, come what may. I looked around.

The island was silent except for the sounds of the waves and the wind. I turned back and asked my guide if this was really the place. He nodded and assured me that it was. “But you need to go into the center,” he said with a smile, and indicated the jungle in front of me.

I sighed and trudged through the sand to a nearby rock, where I dusted off my feet and put my socks and boots on. When I looked up again, my guide and boat had disappeared. Well, that did limit my options. I started looking for a gap in the heavy growth so that I could “go into the center.”

About a quarter of a mile down the beach, I found a small opening, framed by flowering vines. I ducked in and followed a narrow path deeper into the jungle. I could hear birds around me and saw bright flashes of color in the trees nearby. A small creature ran across the path in front of me, and sweet smells from flowers and fruit danced into my nose. It was cooler here, too, which I appreciated with my heavy load. After about half an hour, I heard a faint roaring noise.

The noise grew louder and louder, and I thought I must be near a waterfall. That was odd, because when we were approaching the island, I didn’t remember seeing any hills that would cause a waterfall.

I came out of the jungle into a sizable clearing. Luxurious green grass carpeted the ground and surrounded a large pool of water in the center. In the middle of the pool was a huge rock, with water pouring down all of its sides; this was the noise I had heard. It wasn’t a waterfall, but an enormous fountain instead. The pool was surrounded by rocks, set flat and smooth in the ground. A series of stepping stones went from the edge of the pool to the fountain at its center.

Was this what the guide had meant by finding the center? I scouted around the clearing. There were several benches at the edges and flowers bloomed beside the jungle, but I couldn’t see anything else. There were three more entrances for paths; they seemed to be roughly north, south, east and west. I almost went down one, but then I decided to look around here some more first.

I took off my gear and my boots and socks and after making sure I had my bag from Enchanteur and my piece of red coral, I stepped carefully out onto one of the stepping stones. My balance isn’t the best, and I teetered a bit, but then I steadied myself and took another step. About five steps out, the rock I put my foot on wiggled, and I went splash! The water wasn’t deep or even cold, but my dignity was a bit strained and I was glad I was the only one here. I stood up and waded the rest of the way to the rock in the center.

All I could see was a rock with water cascading down it - lots of water. If I hadn’t been wet already, I would have been after checking out that rock. I felt it all over for holes and openings, even for places my piece of red coral might fit, but there was nothing. It was as solid as, well, as solid as a rock.

Defeated, I waded back over to the edge and sat there, dangling my legs into the pool and dripping. As I sat there, a bird flew past me in a bright flash of green. He spiraled up and around the rock fountain. A second bird, a blue one, joined him. Then came a yellow bird, and a white one, and a red one. They were all darting and weaving around the fountain like feathered ribbons - it made me think of a Maypole dance, or perhaps Japanese cord braiding. I lost myself in the beauty of it. The sparkling water, the darting, dancing birds and the soft lap of the water around my legs distracted me and relaxed me. I forgot my frustration and started to smile and enjoy the show.

And as I did, something happened. The fountain disappeared; its roar softened and gentled into the singing of the birds as they flew in their intricate patterns. The water around my legs went away and I was sitting on a bench, looking at a path into a valley dotted with small buildings. Even the vegetation had changed - it was no longer a jungle, but a rich forest with all sorts of trees and bushes in it.

The birds suddenly darted off and I was alone again. There was only one thing to do. I stood up and started down the path. The sun was warm, and fortunately for my bare feet, the path was grassy and soft. I could still hear birds calling in the distance and a soft breeze brushed by me. I headed for the first building.

It was a small hut, with just enough room for a table and chair in it. A woman with long white hair and a cheerful wrinkled face sat there, looking out at the world and humming. She seemed to be quite content just to be - I wished I could be that serene.

“Well, my dear, I see that you found the way in. The center is the center of yourself, of course - silence and stillness and just being are the ways to find that, you know.” She smiled at me.

“The birds are to thank for that. I was all about action.” I smiled back ruefully.

“No, if you had not been able to stop and see the birds and relax and enjoy them, then it would not have worked. You were ready. You just needed a small prompt. Now, then, can I see your coral?”
I fished the coral out of my pocket and handed it to her. She nodded and placed it in a pouch at her side.

“Can I offer you some dry clothes? A bite to eat? The spinners and weavers will wait for a bit, you know, and you’ll be more comfortable if you change and eat first.” She was leading me farther down the path as she spoke.

“Ahhh…sure. That would be nice,” I answered as she led me into another small building.

She looked at me carefully and then rummaged in one of several chests in the room. “With so many spinners and weavers here, there are always spare items of clothing for our visitors. You’re lucky you only arrived wet. Some of them are much the worse for wear. I remember one who had fallen out of a tree trying to see into the top of the fountain. Her things were in tatters!” The woman chuckled, and then emerged from the trunk with a cobalt blue caftan in her hands. “Here.” She thrust it at me along with a few other things. “Go and change over in that room,” she nodded at a door in the wall behind me, “and then come back out and we’ll see about some lunch. Then you’ll be ready.” She nodded decisively and gave me a gentle push in the direction of the changing room.

I happily peeled off my wet clothing and put on the things she had handed me. Silky soft underthings went on first and then the dress itself which was flowing and comfortable made in my favorite shade of blue with a delicate pattern in a lighter shade of that color. There was a brush in the room, and I untangled my wet hair and fluffed it so it would dry faster. Then I hung my wet things on hooks to dry and padded back out into the main room, where a table had appeared. It was set with a light lunch of bread and cheese and fruit and a fragrant tea to drink with it.

My guide joined me, and when we were done eating and chatting, she winked at me and poked around in the pouch she carried. “Ah, here it is!” she exclaimed, and pulled out two bars of chocolate. She handed one to me. “Chocolate finishes it perfectly!” I agreed wholeheartedly, so we enjoyed our dessert before setting off again.

We passed by several small cottages before we came to the one I was to visit. It was a perfect little place, with a thatched roof and stone walls and flowers spreading out from it like light from a lamp. Birds fluttered all over the garden, and butterflies rested on the flowers. I was charmed.

My guide simply smiled and opened the door, letting us both in. We entered into a large open workroom.  The first thing I saw was a spinning wheel with a bobbin half-full of spun fibers. I looked at it more closely - it was fine and smooth, the colors in it changing and sparkling in the sunlight that shone in through the windows. My guide sat down at the wheel and took the unspun end of fiber which had been tucked around a hook on the wheel.

“You?” I asked, my eyes growing large.

She laughed heartily, “Yes, me. I am your spinner, your weaver. I wanted to walk with you and chat with you before you knew who I was. Now you can observe me!” She started treadling the wheel. I was confused, because there was no basket of prepared fibers there to spin. But before I could ask, she took put her right hand behind the left one holding the spun fiber, as if she were drafting more to spin. And when I looked between her hands, I could see a sparkle of something.  I could almost see fibers there being drawn out to the right thickness before the spin from the wheel ran into them. Then there was a flash as she let them run between her fingers and wind onto the bobbin. I could see colors of all sorts running onto the bobbin, which was filling amazingly quickly and smoothly.

“I am spinning from life, from experience, not from wool or silk or cotton. It is a special thing to be able to spin.”  She looked up at me and smiled. “Today’s spinning is colorful and smooth. Other times, it has been dark and lumpy and scratchy. One moment, and I’ll show you.” As she spoke, the bobbin finished filling.

I rubbed my eyes and looked at the full bobbin unbelievingly. She laughed again. “Do you remember the saying, ‘Seven knitters for one spinner, seven spinners for one weaver’? I have to be able to spin quickly to keep up with myself weaving!” She pulled the bobbin from the wheel and put it aside for now. Then she led the way to the largest loom I had ever seen. I had seen looms with no harnesses, with four harnesses and with eight. This one seemed to have countless harnesses. Every time I looked at it, there seemed to be more. I shook my head to clear my eyes, but still changed. The woman had seated herself at the loom, and with her feet playing over the foot pedals like an organist playing an organ, she began weaving. The shuttle flashed back and forth like lightening, the reed darted back and forth, and fabric flowed from the weaver in intricate patterns and designs. After she wove for a few minutes, she stopped and stood up.

“Yes, this section is light and beautiful. See the sparkle in it? Your fabric almost always has a sparkle, even when it grows dark and rough and uneven. You like to look for the good, even if it is only one little thing in a great huge time of darkness. This is a good thing, and binds your fabric together with joy.” She unrolled some of the finished fabric, showing me different sections and the patterns in them. “Never lose the sparkle, She Wolf. There will be times when it wants to go away, but you must always look for it, and if you do, there will be at least a fine thread of it in your fabric. It is important, that little bit of sparkle. Always look for it, no matter how hard it is to find.” She traced the sparkle with her forefinger. I nodded, unsure of what to say.

“I’ll try,” I said finally.

She nodded. “That’s all anyone can do, is try,” she answered gently. “Now come with me once more.” She led the way back to the spinning wheel, where she put a fresh bobbin on to be filled. Sitting down, she spun for just a few moments and then stopped. There was only a tiny amount of thread on the bobbin, but it was beautiful - colorful and filled with the sparkles of joy. She took out the piece of coral I had given her and wound the thread from the bobbin onto it, tying it off when she was done so it wouldn’t unspin itself.

“Take this with you. This is the thread of your time here. You may want it, or need it, down the road. It is yours to do with as you will, and do not hesitate to use it if you need to or even just want to.” Then she presented me with the thread-wound coral.

I took it, marveling at the beauty of it. “Thank you. This is a priceless thing. Thank you so much.” I looked up at her and smiled.

She smiled back and said, “You are welcome, but it is truly yours. Just don’t forget that the best things in life, the truly priceless ones, are the ones that you share with someone else. And never forget about the sparkle.” As she smiled at me, she looked me in the eyes, and the sparkle that was in her eyes surrounded me, drew me in, and filled me. When my eyes cleared again, I was standing by the roaring fountain and the pool once more. I held the coral with its precious thread wound around it in my hand. My clothing, now clean and dry, was folded on the ground beside me.

I stood there staring at the coral in one hand and smoothing the other over the dress I now wore. If it had just been a dream, I would not have had either of them. And yet my time there had a dream-like quality. I ran my finger over the thread, remembering. Then a bird swooped down and pulled at my hair, jarring me back to here and now. I thought about the woman, the visit…I put the coral in my pack, picked up my things, and walked back into the jungle, lost in thought.

Danger on the Kerith

Floating along on the Kerith, the day was lovely, with a gentle breeze…I lay on my stomach on the deck of the boat with my eyes closed, warm but not baking since the sun was behind the clouds. The scent of damp wood filled my nose as I lay with my cheek pressed to the deck. My arm hung the side, with my fingertips occasionally brushing the surface of the water as small swells moved past the boat. The breeze softly caressed my back. I lay there in complete relaxation and contentment, letting the warmth from the sky and the deck soak into my very bones. I could hear the wind rustle the sails a bit, some bird calls from the shore, and the gentle lap of the water on the hull. Nothing mattered right now except for the peace I felt.

Warmth, relaxation, peace, contentment…ummmm…I dozed a bit, not thinking of anything, just being for a while.

“She Wolf! SHE WOLF!”

I startled awake with my heart pounding, jumping up in a panic. “What!?” I gasped.

The man sailing the boat for me looked at me apologetically. “You must not let your hand dangle in the water in this section of the river. I am sorry to disturb you, but it really isn’t safe.”

I glared at him. “But it was safe before?”

“Actually, yes. It was a few hundred meters back when we entered the dangerous area. I woke you as soon as I realized where we were.”

“What’s so dangerous about it?” I grumbled, crabby from being yanked out of my comfortable state. I looked around me. The Kerith and its banks looked the same as they had earlier. I couldn’t see any difference that would make things dangerous all of a sudden.

The guide pointed back down the river. “Do you see that tall tree there? That is the dividing line.”

I looked back and saw an enormous tree towering above the rest of the vegetation like a giant. “What sort of tree is that, anyway? And what is it dividing?”

“We call it the Guardian Oak. It lives with its feet in the water. Its roots are incredibly long, and they go all the way across the Kerith, like a fence running underwater. The fire fish refuse to swim past the tree and its roots. It may be magic; we don’t really know. We just accept the gift of the Guardian Oaks.”

I was impressed; the Kerith was very, very wide here, and even as huge as the tree was, it was amazing that the roots traveled as far as they did. Magic? Probably. Then the rest of what he had said sunk in. “Fire fish?” I asked.

“The fire fish live in this part of the river. We think they are strange children of the volcano…I will show you why when we round the next bend. Just do not touch the water whatever you do.”

I looked up at the volcano. We were still many miles away, but it glowered over the whole landscape, with sullen clouds of ash surrounding its peak and dull red lava oozing down its sides. I wasn’t thrilled with trying to appease such an angry looking thing. And now I had its children, fire fish, to contend with? Just ducky.

“What do the fire fish do?” I asked the guide.

“Wait, and I will show you,” he replied.

I waited in silence, sitting on the deck with my arms around my knees, keeping well away from the sides of the boat. When we rounded the next bend, I could see a break in the heavy vegetation on the bank that was closest to the volcano. As we got closer, I saw that it was a cooled lava flow that had run all the many miles to the river. Then I saw that the river nearby was steaming slightly and even bubbling a little bit. There must still be lava moving underneath the cooled crust, or maybe a hot spring came up here.

The guide spoke. “The fire fish come out from here. Take this” and he thrust a large piece of fish at me, “and toss it in the water. Not too far, I want you to see what happens.”

I did as he requested, tossing the fish into the water near the boat. Almost immediately, the water there boiled and bubbled and the fish disappeared.

“Piranha?” I asked.

“No, they are fire fish. Do that again and then scoop with this net.” He handed me a small net on a long pole. It was really heavy and I saw that it was made of metal - handle, net, and all.

I tossed in the fish and then scooped as soon as the motion in the water started. I came out with a small, bright red fish flipping angrily in the net. The water clinging to him sizzled and burst into steam.

“A fire fish,” the guide said. “If you were to touch him, you would find your fingers burnt rather badly. They cook and eat any flesh that they sense in the water. No other fish will live here and the fire fish are usually hungry. Very, very hungry. Some fish will swim into the area by accident, and once in a while some careless animal will fall into the water and be eaten, but mostly the fish stay unfed. Yet they do not seem to die. They just wait…Some of the locals will feed them to keep them from becoming dangerously hungry. There was once a group who worshiped them as children of the volcano and makes sacrifices of pigs and cows on a regular basis. Me, I am just glad that the Guardian Oaks exist. There is another one just ahead that guards this end of the section.” He pointed and I could see the tree towering ahead.

“It would be awful if those things got out,” I shuddered.

“Once, someone tried to bring them out. They died as soon as they were put into the water on the other side of the Guardian.”

” Ugh! Good thing, too! That would be awful. What happened to the person who did that?”

“Punishment.” And that was all he would say on that issue. Then he continued, “Sometimes people will bring their washpots and things that need boiling to the edge of the water. They scoop out some water and a fire fish to boil it. As long as they stay here and use the water from here, it will work. The fire fish can be used this way. When they are done, they dump the fish back. It works.” He shrugged.

“The water here must be really hot,” I said.

“It is, both from the volcano and the fire fish. Here.” He handed me another pole, this one with a scoop on it.

I scooped up some water and felt it - it was almost hot enough to make tea with!

“It cools some near the edges, but not a lot. The fire fish like to swim near the edges, hoping for stray fish to eat - they keep the water plenty hot there, too.”

We were sailing towards the end of the section now. I was relieved; the fire fish made me uneasy. Then the wind stopped.

It didn’t just die off slowly. It stopped, just like that. We were sitting there, dead in the water in the fire fish zone. I heard a plopping noise, and looked around to see several fire fish jumping out of the river.

 I turned to the guide and he was as pale as a ghost. “I…I …I have heard legends of this happening…but I never…” He looked up at me. I thought he was going to faint. “They say that sometimes the fire fish get so hungry that they will use magic to stop a boat so they can have a meal. They make the wind stop for a sail boat, or the water swirl so a rowed boat cannot go anywhere. Then they will surround the boat and jump over it until they…well, until they can feed.” He gulped. So did I.

There were more fire fish now, and they were jumping closer to the boat and higher into the air. One bold fish tried to jump over the boat and missed. He flopped on the deck, sizzling. The guide swore and grabbed the net to scoop him out. He left a charred spot on the deck. Another one jumped and landed on the deck, and then another. We were in desperate trouble now.

I looked around - we were only a short distance from the Guardian Oak. I saw a large coil of rope on the bow of the boat and then I had an idea. I shoved the guide towards the bow and said, “Grab that rope and make sure it’s tied tight to the boat. Then give me the end of it!” I was rummaging in my magic bag from Enchanteur the whole time. It seemed like it took forever to find the wings. I put them on quickly and then ran to the bow, dodging jumping and flipping fire fish as I went. I grabbed the free end of the rope and took off.

I flew through a storm of fire fish, heading for the Guardian Oak as quickly as I could. I had to fly low because of the trees hanging overhead near the banks and I felt one of the fish graze my ankle as I flew. It burned immediately and I flew faster than ever, now dodging and weaving as I went to avoid the hungry fish, which seemed to be following me. I could hear them jumping and splashing back into the water below me. Another few got me, but then I was at the barrier and to the huge branches of the Guardian Oak.

I stood on one of the broad branches and looped the rope around the next one. Then, using the branch for leverage, I pulled. I pulled as hard as I could, leaning back and tugging, fluttering the magic wings for balance. The boat started to move. I pulled harder, moving hand over hand down the rope. I could hear the guide shouting - I hoped he was shouting with joy, not pain and fear. This was taking far too long. I was afraid there wouldn’t be anything left by the time I got the boat to the Guardian Oak. Pull, pull, pull, pull…Then I could hear the guide yelling, “Stop! You did it! Stop!” I had pulled the boat out of the way of the fire fish. The danger was over.

I collapsed on the branch, puffing with relief and exhaustion. I still didn’t let go of the rope - I was afraid the boat would drift back if I did.

I could hear the guide doing something down below, and then he called, “Come down now. I have moored the boat to the tree and we will be safe!”

I pulled the rope I had used to tow us out of danger from around the branch and tossed it down to the boat. Then I flew down too.

The boat was a mess, with charred spots and the smoking remains of fire fish everywhere. The guide sported a patchwork of burns, but he was grinning anyway. Now that the danger was over, I could feel my own burns again.

The guide hugged me ecstatically and then said, “The fish seemed to follow you when you flew off. Only a few stayed with the boat - it was strange. But it did save me and the boat.”

 I looked around again. It looked to me like more than enough of the fish had stayed.

“Come, let us pull the boat through the branches and over to the shore. There is a village near here that we can walk to. We will tell them about the fish. They can return with something to feed them with and then they can bring the boat to us. We can get salve for our burns while they do this.” The guide was putting actions to his words, and moments later we were scrambling ashore.

The path was right behind the trees lining the river bank and we were soon at a small village. The villagers were very upset that the fire fish had done this and quickly dispatched a party with some oxen that had been butchered the day before. I fished out some gold to pay the villagers, but they waved it off.

“This is our job,” they said. “We are supposed to keep this part of the Kerith safe…But it is odd. They should not have been that hungry so soon.”

Some of the other villagers brought us a wonderful salve for our burns. The village shaman was with them.

The shaman eyed me speculatively. “They may have been after something else. You may have been the target. You are a seeker, no? From Enchanteur?”

I nodded.

“It has been known to happen before. You are going to the volcano…” he stopped and just looked at me. It was unnerving. Finally he continued, “Sometimes it happens that other forces do not want the volcano appeased. You appear to have drawn the interest of some of these forces. Be very careful…They will not give up easily. The dragon fish will just have been their first effort.”

“Dragon fish?” My head jerked up.

“Yes - that is our local name for the fire fish. Why?”

“Oh boy!” I shuddered - and it wasn’t because it was hurting to smear on the burn salve, either.

-She Wolf © 2008