Free Fall

 My whole body is  being thrown around I can’t catch a breath.

“Woah,” I call shakily, pulling on the reins and pushing my feet down.

Nothing.

“Woah, Solomon!”

This time I am firmer. He eases out of his gallop into a walk, but he is impatient, full of energy and bursting to gallop.

“Please Solomon,” I say, “Just let me get my breath and remember how to do this.”

Solomon snorts contemptuously in reply, much like his owner.

“Okay boy,” I sigh, “Lets trot.”

I gently prod his flanks and let him trot. We have been traveling across pastureland towards a huge forest. The trees are coming closer but instead of entering the forest Solomon skirts around its edge. I am starting to find the rhythm of his gait, relaxing and enjoying the ride but Solomon, ever impatient, is pulling at the reins.

I squeeze his flanks again and he breaks into a canter carrying me away from the forest onto a rough stone track that shines in the moonlight. He pulls again on the reins and this time I let him take them. He stretches himself once more into a gallop and I lean forward in the saddle, my face behind his ears, and shut my eyes into the wind and feel his mane caressing my face. My heart is racing but my fear has dissipated and I thrill in the joy of sharing the night and the wind and a moonlit dance with Solomon.

After a while, I don’t know how long, I feel the air becoming cooler and crisper. I open my eyes to find the forest far behind us and the track all but gone. We are heading towards a vast bay. The night is so clear that I can see stars reflected in the water. Far in the distance I can see the man made lights of Duwamish Bay. Even with Solomon’s great speed it will take hours to get there. I rein him in thinking we can slow down and relax for a while. Instead of slowing Solomon picks up sped and turns to the sea towards what I can see quite clearly now is the edge of a cliff.

“Solomon!” I yell frantically, pulling at the reins,” Solomon!”

He won’t stop. His gait is relentless and the precipice is drawing nearer. Totally at a loss I decide to jump to the ground. To my horror I find my feet firmly stuck in the stirrups.

Luff’s words spring to my mind; He won’t let you fall.

“I don’t want to fall!” I scream,” Solomon!”

He leaps, clear off the ground, over the precipice.

The cliff is vast. Somewhere below, in the darkness, is water.

We fall straight down. The wind rushes past my ears. I force myself to stop screaming. I look below us. I can just make out the water. Solomon does not seem perturbed. In fact he is still trying to gallop.

Impossible.

“You stupid horse!” I scream

A sharp pain sears through my hip. I put my hand to it and feel the shape of L’Enchanteur’s bag. It is incredibly hot to touch.

Still falling, the sea approaching us, I pull the bag from my pocket.

“I can’t believe this,” I mutter,” I must be dreaming. Why can’t I wake up?”

The bag is growing hotter and hotter. I reach inside and find the source of the heat. The medallion. The unicorn. I struggle to remember what L’Enchanteur had told me.

“Impossible!” I scream,” I can’t do this. I want to wake up!”

The medallion burns in my fingers. I look at Solomon’s legs steadfastly galloping; he is oblivious to the fast approaching water.

“Are you trying to fly?” I ask, incredulous.

Solomon seems to nod in response.

“Can you fly?” I ask again.

Again a perceptible nod. I laugh hysterically. We were now only metres away from the water.

Impossible! Impossible! My mind screams. He can’t fly!

“Accept impossibility,” a clear voice calls. The medallion glows fiercely in my hand.

 I suddenly understand. That s it!

“Fly Solomon fly!” I cry and kick his flanks.

As his hooves kick the waves we suddenly pitch upwards and forwards into the night sky.
Fly Solomon, fly!” I crow, delighted at my new found belief and loss of fear. I look at the medallion, kiss it and return it to the safety of the bag and my hip pocket.

“Thank you, L’Enchanteur.” I whisper to the stars.

We scud across the bay, dipping and soaring.

We are reflected like the stars on the sea’s surface.

I whoop and laugh with relief and Solomon joins me; whinnying and snickering in pleasure.

“You knew all the time!” I shout, “You were just waiting for me!”

He skims the water again, enjoying the saltwater spray kicked up by his hooves.

I study our reflection in the water and suddenly wonder what would have happened if I hadn’t chosen to believe the impossible.

Solomon snorts and tosses his head as if to break my doubts.

I look again at our reflection and cannot help but laugh at the two of us; windswept and carefree, tumbling and rolling across the sea to Duwamish Bay.

Solomon is beautiful. The wicked glint in his eyes is contagious; I can see my eyes sparkling in  the moonlight.

To Duwamish Bay - a villanelle

Ride with me down to Duwamish Bay;
We can take our time, it is not far.
Relax – the horses know their way.

We haven’t taken time to take the time of day,
Sometimes we forget who we really are.
Ride with me down to Duwamish Bay.

The ocean sparkles like a jewel in the bay,
Our minds can wander near and far.
Relax – the horses know their way.

In Lemuria, time moves differently, they say,
You are free to follow your own star.
Ride with me down to Duwamish Bay.

We’ll visit old haunts when we reach the bay,
Relive past adventures, some were so bizarre.
Relax – the horses know their way.

We’ll watch the ships go by at end of day,
From a vantage point in some Duwamish bar.
Ride with me down to Duwamish Bay.
Relax – the horses know their way.

The Attach of the Mushrooms

The Attach of the Mushrooms from She Wolf’s story Fran

One Night In Duwamish Bay

by a.m. moscoso

 One night in Duwamish Bay a Carnival and Sideshow came to town and in a building under a bridge across the street from Pier 64 the new owner of the building, a woman named Kincross Benandanti took the locks off the doors and told her workers to start first by bricking up the windows.

Down the street from the Carnival Mrs Lucia Arima, a master carpenter,  waited for her tools and chisels to arrive from the darkest streets of Cairo, Egypt and as the night wore on she looked up at the full moon and shook her head.

And at the very end of this steet under the bridge in a store with cats sitting in the window a woman named Livia Cotard unpacked books from wooden boxes with locks that had letters stamped on their faces instead of numbers.

She was humming to herself when she looked up and out her window and saw a tall dark woman in a Sheriff’s uniform. The dark woman smiled and shook her finger at her and Livia pretended to snap her teeth back.

Livia smiled but she wasn’t laughing and the Sheriff moved on.

Through the night and into the morning Saturnina Street came to life, building by building until last of all a Malt Shop opened her doors and from the inside came the smells of exotic spices and laughter and Elvis Presley and someone yelling to bring the Mummy out first followed by a woman’s voice saying, ” and don’t drop her- you know how she gets.”

” Yeah, yeah, yeah ” a man called back.

” Did the train come in on time? ” The man’s voice called a little louder.

A different voice answered ” Yes Pops, and the boat. “

” Then we’re all here” Cypriano  said as he walked out the door into the Morning.

His daughter Akela followed him and together they watched dozens and dozens of black horses pulling  dozens and dozens of black hearses down Saturnina  Street up towards the little logging town of Felonway.

Akela’s mother came up behind them and she said-

 ” We are now. “

The Formidable Mrs. Luff

“I am very nervous; I haven’t ridden for a long time. Not since I was fourteen.”

Luff looks me up and down,

“Not all that long ago then.” She says curtly.

Normally I would take this as a compliment, but Bluff’s manner is brisk, almost contemptuous. The horse she is readying for me is huge and dark with a glint in his eye that makes my stomach knot tight.

“It’s over twenty years ago Mrs. Luff!” I plead.

Luff snorts in derision,

“Like I said, not that long ago.”

She continues to fasten buckles and straps, all the while murmuring quietly to the beast, which is pawing the ground impatiently, shifting from hoof to hoof.

“Mrs. Luff, please, surely there is a smaller or older or quieter horse I can ride?”

“This is your steed. We’ve both been waiting for you.” Luff replies without turning to look at me.

I panic, searching for any way out of this predicament,

“Maybe you can ride with me? Or maybe there is another way, a car perhaps? I can’t ride him!”

Luff suddenly rounds on me,

“Listen to me, Missy, I’ve had women twice your age ride to Duwamish without ever having seen a horse before and they didn’t fuss or whine or carp one bit. Pull your britches up and stop being such a little girl. This is your steed and tonight you will ride.”

She looks at me fiercely, challenging me to utter one more word, as she holds the bridle, controlling the horse with a powerful hand.

“What is his name?” I ask meekly, taking the bridle from her.

“Solomon,” Luff replies as we walk out of the stables into the moonlit courtyard.

Solomon snorts, shaking his head in anticipation, almost ripping my shoulder from its socket in the process. I can feel his body trembling with excitement. I am also trembling though for entirely different reasons.

“He’s a good fella,” Luff continues, slapping his haunches fondly,” he’s strong, fast and fearless. He knows his way and he’ll look after you.”

She looks at me and her tone softens slightly.

“Solomon’s your steed Missy and he won’t let you fall. Now up you get.”

I still after all these years, for some unknown reason, remember how to mount a horse. I breathe deeply, give Luff a shaky smile and swing up, such a long way up, onto Solomon’s back.

“There y’ are now!” Luff smiles,” It’s something you never forget.”

Solomon begins prancing and bouncing beneath me, like an excited pup, eager to start.

I tuck L’Enchanteur’s bag deep into my hip pocket and tighten my cloak around me. Despite my fear a silly grin finds its way onto my face.

“Goodbye Mrs. Luff. Thank you.”

“Och, y’ welcome Missy. Now off y’ go .” She slaps Solomon squarely on the haunches, “Be away with you boy! Travel safe!”

Solomon needs no urging; leaping into a gallop he speeds out of the stable courtyards and into the night.

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

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

After the Storm

 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

Storm in the Night

I 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.

-She Wolf (c) 2007 

 

To Duwamish Bay

 

I have my steed and I am ready to go to Duwamish Bay and beyond.
by Heather Blakey

Search for Duwamish Bay

“You lookin’ fer someun’, sweetie?” Tillie doesn’t let just anyone come into her stables. She cares for her horses like new mothers care for their wee babies. “Do ya need someun’ to answer yer questions?”

I stare at the luxurious interior of these stables. Each stall accommodates a perfect 10 specimen of a horse. “Yes, ma’am. My name is Bo and I have some questions. le Enchanteur sent me here to look for Tillie, a wondrous stablewoman, she claims. Tillie’s to get me a steed for a night sky ride to Duwamish.”

“She is, is she? I’m Tillie and I can git ya a sweet lil’ miss or a gran’ sturdy stallion. I have painters an’ morgansmiths, ‘loosas an’ mixes, too. All good tempers an’ fast, sleek an’ a lil’ magickal, too. My horses, all of ‘em are fine, fine horses. What’s yer pleasure?”

“I’m not too experienced with this animal. They all look awfully big. Do you have anything about half their size?”

“M’ dear, they don’t come half tha’ size. I’m not sure I should giv’ ya any a’ my horses, but if ‘Chantuer says, guess I mus’. Ride much?”

“Yes, I’ve ridden, but that horse was led on a trail by a man.” Tillie gives me such a look, that I fear to say anything else.

“Tsk. Tsk. Yer a true babe. Better give ya one a’ my best, one that don’t need a human ta tell ‘em what ta do. I’ll give ya my good boy, my Joey. He’ll do ya fine. My big man can nearly read yer mind, so ye’ll be in good care.” Tillie leaves me standing by a pile of smelly blankets and an insect-covered lantern. She disappears into the back of the barn where she spends many minutes rummaging through piles of papers and pictures. While occupied, she talks quietly to a nearby black and white horse, scratching it lovingly and beginning his travel instructions. Finally, Tillie returns to me leading a monster horse.

“This fella speaks perfeck English. No problem fer ya there, plus he knows ’bout ten other languages. Might help ya a bit if ya git in o’er yer head. He’s been trained by th’ best — he can read th’ minds a’ humans an’ most large animals. He ain’t mastered th’ languages a’ small’uns or all th’ magickal creatures, yet, but he knows some a’ their words.

“He knows what I say and he speaks, too?” Did I understand Tillie?

“That’s a’ what I said, ain’t it? Now, me horses don’t go fer metal in thar mouths or whips on thar flanks. None a’ tha’ sorta stuff, ever. You tell Joey wha’ yer want, he follows yer command. Or mebbe he has a better idea, then he tells yer so. Yer works as a team. He tells ya what he needs an’ ya help ‘im; ya tell him wha’ yer need an’ he helps ya. He’s not the best wit’ maps and directions, but he’s learnin’. And he’s mos’ gran’ with sports — racing, swimming, flying, deep sea diving. Don’ call ‘im short ’til yer give ‘im a try. Thas’ what I say.” Tillie nodded her head in certainty, pleased with her instructions. “A couple more things. Introductions. Bo, this is Joseph Arthur the Learned. He only answers to Joey, unless he’s in trouble with me. And Joey, this is Barbara, always called Bo, whether or not she’s in trouble.”

“Last, the only ‘quipment Joey needs is th’ softes’ possible blanket fer ‘is back. I’m th’ only one knows how ta’ felt ‘is cover an’ I only felt it from th’ magick flora a’ Lemuria.” Tillie smiles at Joey, rather a lovey smile, and gives me a dark frown for no reason at all.

“Bo, put Joey’s blanket on ‘is back — no wrinkles, now — an’ climb on up. Then he’ll walk yer ta th’ house. Don’ forget yer suitcase an’ yer neck bag. I’ll be up in a minute ta say my good-byes.”

Up at the house, Tillie does her last minute checks on Joey. Her heart is heavy, seeing her precious Joey leave for Duwamish and places beyond. “Well, Bo. To get Joey ready for his Journey was my life’s ambition, an’ he could be no more ready than he is. Good-byes ta ya both. Joey walk down th’ trail an’ talk o’er ya plans wit’ ya new mistress. I’ll be goin’ ta th’ stable an’ look after me other horses.”

As soon as Tillie is out of sight, Joey makes a confession. “Bo, I hid my map under the blanket, just under your right hand. Where are we going? Try to find it on the map.” Just then Joey whinnies and sneezes and that combination turns into a screech. “Maps aren’t my best academic. Maybe yours, Bo?”

“I’m afraid not, Joey. Always getting easts and wests mixed up.” Then I brighten. “Maybe Lemuria doesn’t have easts and wests. But, darn. I only got the directions in my head, which isn’t the best place for me keeping to the maps. I’ll give it a try, though. Ahead is the coast. At least, I think a coast is ahead. We follow that to the Bay of Duwamish. We’re either to take a night sky ride or to fly in the sky at night. Joey, are those the same instructions or different ones?”

“Hmm. We could ride on the land while we’re traveling at night. That is, you could ride and I could gallop. Or I could carry you on my back and fly in the dark sky. Or we could both fly alongside each other.”

“Joey, I can’t fly.”

“Oops! I knew that. Can’t ride. Can’t fly. I’m the one that can gallop and night-fly. Tell me which you prefer, and I’ll follow the coast until we reach Duwamish Bay. I don’t suppose there will be a neon sign giving us the location of the Bay, but perhaps some neon fish are swimming about or maybe it’s a bit of a horse town.”

“Joey, I think it’s a town town. And let’s fly. Flying sounds faster and safer.”

“Then fly it is. Here’s my plan. (I’m very good at plans.) See the star-shaped jewels loops in the sky. The sky looks like day-light, but it will soon be night. I fly straight into the air. You grab a strand of those jewels, throw it over my neck and fasten them tightly. The jewels will provide us light and give me energy for our trip. Do not drop your empty suitcase or your bag of talismans, EVER! Get the plan?”

“Yes. Grab. Throw. Fasten. Don’t drop times two.”

“Yes. Now we’re off to Duwamish Bay.” Joey shoots straight into the air while humming a sailors’ ditty. “Know what, Bo? We’ll make a famous pair.”

“Think so, Joey?” As I hang on to a jeweled star, we zoom into the night sky. “Uh, Joey, I think you’re going the wrong way.”

“Not me, Bo. My steering is right on, this evening. And the seahorses will help us along when we get lost.”

“When?”

“Yep, when.”

by Bo