Song of the Earth J. M. Strother A cool and gentle breeze carried soft music in through the open window. It was not a tune Mhari knew, yet it played at her mind like some ancient memory. The more she tried to concentrate on it, the more it seemed to slip away, just beyond her grasp. She sat up, bathed in a rectangle of bright moonlight. She glanced up to see the full moon high in a cloudless sky. The music beckoned to her, and she rose as if in a trance, put on her robe and stepped out into the hall. The house was quiet. Everyone else was sound asleep. She crept to the back door, and slipped quietly outside. Now the music was clearer. Not loud, but more distinct, and coming from the woods out beyond the yard. Without hesitation she stepped out onto the dewy grass. It was cold on her bare feet. I have to be dreaming, she thought to herself, for surely I would not do anything so crazy if I were awake. Yet she walked on, towards the woods, drawn ever forward by the haunting tune. She stepped into the woods without regard to her bare feet. Where she would have expected the sharp stab of pain from hidden rocks, roots and twigs, she felt only the soft cushion of leaf mold under foot. It was as if some greater power protected her from this foolishness, guiding her gently towards its own ends. There was light ahead now. Soft yellows and oranges flickering on the boughs of the trees. There was a fire. And music. She slowed, and paused just at the edge of a small clearing, considering what she saw. Ahead there was a stone circle with a merry fire within. Around it sat a menagerie of beasts the like of which she knew had not wandered these parts in many a day. There sat a wolf and a bear, a smaller animal she assumed was a badger or wolverine, and a bobcat. Laying on the ground were a deer and buffalo. Perched overhead in the bows of the trees were an eagle, owl and hawk. At the point of the circle closest to her an old man sat, hunched over his ocarina, with his back to her. The deer looked up and caught her eye. The music stopped. Welcome, sister, the old man said without turning his head. Come. Join us. Mhari's heart raced. All the animals were now looking at her. The wolf got up and padded over, stopped just short of her, and examined her closely with his nose. Don't be afraid, the wolf said, turning invitingly back towards the fire. We've been expecting you. Oddly enough Mhari was not afraid. She fell in step beside the wolf and went to the circle. The badger scooted to one side to give her room to sit, and she sat down just opposite the old man. The old man smiled a gummy smile, a twinkle in his eye, and put the ocarina to his lips and began to play slow now, and sad. The owl fluttered down from above and alighted on the ground just at her feet. It looked at her, as if searching her soul though the windows of her eyes. She felt her heart laid bare, her joys and fears exposed, yet never judged. We have never gone, the owl told her. Your people think we are all but gone, driven to the hinterlands or beyond. But we are still here, for those that can see. We are the spirit of the land, the bear added in a low rumble. The land is eternal and we are in the land. But we diminish, said the wolf. The old man looked at her, as if asking a question with his eyes. She tried to understand, but he looked away before it became clear in her mind. He paused but a moment and then began to a different tune. This one seemed familiar to her, like she should know the words, yet the words eluded her. Like the question the old man had asked with his eyes. The spirit of the Earth can not be stilled, the owl said. Your people may think they are the masters, growled the bear, but the Earth has no master. The power of man is but a feather on the winds of the great Mother's breath. Arrogance is it's own peril. Yet we can live together, soothed the deer. The music changed again. The tune was different now, faster and joyous. The animals seemed to sway in rhythm to the music, as if in rapture, some with their eyes closed, others plainly watching her. The old man stood up and the animals followed suit. Mhari rose to her feet, as if in a dream, and they began to walk slowly around the fire. The music got faster and faster, and their walk became more of a dance. Soon they were all leaping and jumping each dancing in its own way. Mhari danced a dance she did not know, as round and round the circle they went, faster and faster. She laughed out load, while her companions cried and called in their own animal voices. She was becoming breathless as the circle danced itself into a frenzy. She got a stitch in her side and yet danced on, sweating, yet cooled in the breeze of her own making. The fire became a blur, the animals leaping masses of muscle, hide and fur. She felt lightheaded and dizzy. Just as she felt she could not go on, the music stopped. She fell into a swoon, dropping to the ground almost in slow motion. She saw the fire, the trees, the old man, the moon above like vivid snap shots, as she spun downward. She landed almost gently on her back, looking up at the full moon framed in the open circle of sky in the canopy above. A feeling a sheer joy came over her. She was dimly aware of the wolf that came and curled up at her side. Rest now, the wolf said, laying its head on her stomach. She reached up and stroked the neck of the beast, feeling completely at peace. Slowly her eyes closed and she went to sleep. Mhari woke with a start and sat up in bed. The sun was shining brightly through her open window. Wow, what a dream! She sat there in bed, trying to recall it to her conscious mind. But even now it was fleeting away, more of a feeling than a memory. She smiled at the memory, for it was one of great comfort and of promise for another day. She rose and went to her dresser to brush her hair as she always did. Still bemused by her dream she began to run the brush though her hair and came up short with a stab a pain. Scowling, she worked the brush hard to remove the stubborn tangle. Much to her surprise she pulled out a twig that had somehow become entangled in her hair.

 
~jon
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