1995
Beyond
the sunshine of orange oaks and yellow maples, where Sunbeams courted Wood
Nymphs with brass trumpets and accordion ballads, a grove of solemn Pines stood
cool and gray like Gaelic warriors prepared for battle. Garbed in mails of tarnished silver,
their limbs were knotted with black fists and broken fingers, their petrified
roots thrust into the iron ground like ArthurÕs sword. From evergreen helmets they whispered
the cosmic secrets to the watchful breezes, secrets they had won like prizes
over the eons as they fought – firm and resolute – against the
invasions of time. The wisdom of
the Whispering Pines was known to all.
Though the glade was dark and alien, it hummed with the sentient
energies which rule all things. In
the white light of midday, even as SunÕs anger boiled with flame, dark shapes
and shadows danced with the imperious Pines: The ashen grove was possessed.
This
was the sanctuary where the wild creatures gathered for the Truce of the Oak
Seedling. Who called the Truce no
creature could say. Deep within
their hearts, the spark of their ancient genesis called them like a maternal
flame. To some, though they could
not have articulated their sentiments, it shone like a beacon of hope in a sea
of wild despair. They departed for
the Whispering Pines with great haste.
Others simply lifted their weary eyes and – with hearts bowed and
souls subdued – marched with the pain of the unloved creatures they had
become. While all knew they were
being drawn to a place most had never been, none were surprised. There were many omens of late.
When
the Mulberry Fairies danced the Ritual of the Mulberry Leaves they fell out of
step. Mulberry Tree no longer shed
her leaves. Beaver found nowhere
to whittle a wood home with his great white teeth. The Water Nymphs complained of their diminishing powers. But when Pine Grosbeak failed to return
to the Whispering Pines on the warm breath of spring, a shiver of fear ran
through the old Pines, shaking their pine needles loose, leaving trunks raw and
exposed. The pine needles pierced
the earth like spears, driving off the visitors who came seeking wisdom from
the Whispering Pines. Only the
wood snails, protected by the armor of their shells, dared venture forth in
this pine needle storm: Sticking a spongy foot out in foot out in front like a
tongue, glistening with spit, they carried their shells of polished turquoise
on their backs like crosses.
Change visited even the drippy corridors of darkness where Termite and
Maggot and Worm churned Life out of Death. The omens raised a stir in the ashen grove.
Thus
came the day when the Pines whispered to the Watchful Wind: Let the Truce of
the Oak Seedling begin. Then, and
for the time that it took young Acorn to split and sprout, and Oak Seedling to
climb as high as Forest Toad could leap, the Truce of the Oak Seedling would
protect all creatures as they gathered to gain wisdom and strength from their
nascent bond to Mother Earth and to each other. For this brief and solemn rite, the great hunters and their
many prey met eye to eye with an absence of fear or malice.
All
the great hunters came. The
Wing-eds, with eyes of polished diamonds to focus light and burn through night,
talons to grip and tear flesh. The
Four-leggeds, hooded and masked, stealthy and sly, whose teeth flash like
silver daggers as they scheme and plot to swallow the moon. The Fang-eds and Fork-eds, whose
tongues spit the bloody juices of their victims as they slither through mud and
moss, whose greasy bodies coil and sleep with the patience and stealth of the
millennium. The Gill-eds, whose
teethy hearts cease to beat as they lurk unseen in watery pools as black as
blood. And the Webb-eds, whose hunger
skulks in silk houses spun in the drippy shade of surprise. All the hunters respected the Truce of
the Oak Seedling, and they and their prey gathered together in the Grove of the
Whispering Pines.
So
it was when dewdrops gathered on forest leaves cascaded downward and spilled
into streams trickling with Polywogg.
It was then that the blue fins and bloody gills of Trout broke water to
join the creatures gathered in the ashen grove. It was then that Oak Seedling was born, as Acorn split her
heart and sent a tiny root into the soil, a tiny shoot into the sky. Forest Toad watched over her like the
silent sentry that he was.
ÒThe
Intruders are stalking the wilds,Ó spoke the gray Pines, after welcoming each
of the many creatures by name.
ÒAll must beware. They are
taking the forests. They are
taking the wood. Streams have been
sullied. Creatures been
bullied. The Intruders are
coming. And no Being is safe.
The
Pines spoke at length of the siege of the Wilds, the constancy of Change, the
twisting of Time – and the many omens which arrived like the screams of
Hawk on the Watchful Wind.
ÒBut
Strangers have come who are not Intruders,Ó said the Pines, at last. ÒThey stood amongst us, inhaling the
scent of our souls. They broke
none of our reaching fingers, scuffed no root. As they lay together on the pine needles shed from our
bones, they spoke at length of the magic of the Wilds. Their communion, here, has filled these
Pines with a warmth not seen since Pine Grosbeak departed forever. Like the pale white breasts of the
Seraph in the golden sunshine of spring, these Strangers brought truth.Ó
ÒThey
crushed no Wood Snail,Ó shouted the many Wood Snails, nodding their turquoise
shells in unison.
ÒTheir
spirits were pure energy,Ó said White Wolf, her voice as sexy and calm as the
flesh of Wild Strawberry. ÒThough
they did not see me, I followed them from the forbidden place, where no
creature sings and no wild thing grows, through the shattered souls of the
Broken Wood, to Honeysuckle Meadow and on to Whitetail Bog –
ÒItÕs
true, itÕs true,Ó shouted Emerald Butterfly. So excited was Butterfly that she lifted from the Bluebells
for an impromptu offering of the Dance of the Quartz Rainbow. The many creatures watched in awe as
Emerald Butterfly danced the sensuous but chaotic dance with the Sunbeams. The Caterpillars crowned her Princess
of Light as her stature rose even in HummingbirdÕs eyes. Of all the Wing-eds, only Hummingbird
could rival the beauty of Emerald Butterfly on the wing. The animals loved her. The young Flycatchers were enraptured:
They imagined consuming this succulent Princess, much as they imagined
consuming the lovers to whom they would give their virgin split-tails. For Emerald Butterfly, the Dance of the
Quartz Rainbow expressed her belief in the fatalism of all life. It was the meander9ing of Fate,
Butterfly knew, which had synchronized the StrangersÕ energies with her
own. She was meditating in the
blossom of Last Lonely Ladyslipper, painted with sweet cream and lavender, when
the Strangers passed nearby. ÒIt
is a good sign,Ó said Butterfly, shyly returning to the Bluebells from which
she had alighted.
White
Wolf praised Emerald Butterfly until Butterfly flushed as pink as
Flamingo. ÒI followed as the
Strangers splashed through Red Rock Brook, and on to these Whispering Pines,Ó
said White Wolf. ÒGoldenrod glowed
and nearly fainted as they passed.
From here to the icy heart of Aurora Borealis, I have seen no others
like these.Õ
ÒLies!
Lies! Lies!Ó bellowed Crow, able to contain herself no longer. ÒThey are Intruders! They must not be trusted!Ó Her wings outstretched, Crow was choked
with rage and sorrow: In the cornfields of her life, the kernels of her memory
grew bitter with the many lovers she had seen fall from the sky, never to rise
again. Her lonely heart trembled
as the last words of her fallen lovers burned – ÒWhy? – Why?
– Why?Ó – unanswered.
All
hearts went out to Crow then.
ÒNo,Ó
said gentle Pinecone, after a respectful silence. ÒThough they are Strangers, these two are not like those
others. They touched me as gently
as First Snowflake hails the coming of Winter. They spoke in hushed whispers. I know they can be trusted.Ó
And
then Black Bullfrog spoke.
ÒChigger-dee, chigger-dum,Ó he moaned, in a voice as black as mud. ÒChigger-ree, chigger-rum.Ó And all the creature waited.
Though
every creature knew Black Bullfrog well – senile old Bullfrog, gnarly and
cynical, snorting and huffing and snapping at Fly – they all knew that
none knew Black Bullfrog well-enough.
Mystery and magic rained over bullfrog pond. The same cancerous tongue with which Black Bullfrog lashed
out at his peers, his friends, his enemies, even at his own kin blood, lashed
out with a vitriolic maelstrom of unpardonable and portentous truth, bitter as
the wart-rot between his toes, a scandal to the wisdom of the Whispering Pines,
was the same sweet tongue with which Black Bullfrog – senile old
Bullfrog, gnarly and cynical, snorting and huffing and snapping at Fly–
had drawn the virgin Fairies out of the lily blossoms for all to see. And the Lily Fairies showered him with
the sweet candy of honey buttercups and raspberry daisies. And the Fairies danced, naked and pink
and sensuous, like tiny ballerinas, wings of red silk stuck to the soft flesh
in the small of their backs with Honeysuckle and Sagetree. And the Fairies had lain with Black
Bullfrog, holding him with their tiny arms as only lovers hold lovers, while
cuddled in his black-backed arms, on a belly as slippery as eggwhitesegg whites. And the Lily Fairies sang the most
beautiful song the ashen Pines had ever heard. In the morning they were gone. After that night, with each full moon which cast the shadow
of Old Blue Spruce over his pond, Black Bullfrog uttered poetry – for
which creatures gathered as never before – of Edenic bliss and eternal
love. Old Black Bullfrog lived
those nights in ecstasy. And while
all things around him decayed as the seasonÕs passed, Black BullfrogÕs eternal
flame burned away half his age.
But when Black Bullfrog spoke at the Truce of the Oak Seedling, his
portentous voice was a black and as deep as the blackest whirlpool in the
bottomless swamp:
Witches
hair and slaverÕs cotton,
neÕre
the suffering eÕre forgotten,
tinfoil
heart shines white as sin,
with
gargoyleÕs lip, the blood drunk in.
On
rosy cheek red nectar stings,
eyes
of bluebells, black tongues ring,
piercing
star in twilightÕs mate,
blackened
lies of former hate.
Morning
mist on crimson thigh,
my
precious love, for you would die,
bittersweet,
in gangrene world,
love
in sandstoneÕs omen furled.
My
soul for you with hurried gate,
the
end of time together wait,
no
song, no curse, these rattled bones,
beyond
your flesh, my humble throne.
As
Black Bullfrog stilled his strange tongue, he Forest squeaked a collective
squeak of terror. None could
interpret Black BullfrogÕs black words.
Not even Wise Old Owl. None
tried. Like a startled animal
frozen in its tracks, ears up straight and eyes open wide, sniffing the air but
unsure which way to flee, the Forest stood in terror. The creatures found no solace in the silence. The words of Black Bullfrog passed
undigested through the bowels of the many creaturesÕ hunger to interpret the
here and now.
After
an ominous pause, all eyes turned to Birch Spider. It was Birch Spider whose tiny words the creatures had
gathered to hear. It was Birch
Spider who had seen what no other had seen. It was Birch Spider who urged the Pines to call the Truce of
the Oak Seedling. And so White
Wolf and Trout and Centipede and Red-tailed Hawk all pricked up their ears and
sniffed the Wild Wind once again, and listened as Birch Spider spoke. Oak Seedling had grown. Forest Toad jumped over it with ease.
ÒAs you know,Ó said
Birch Spider, Òmy web reaches from the boughs of Ashen Pine to
the stem of Larch Fern on the forest floor. My web is spun with the hearts of captured flies, devoured
as my nature tells me, a nature as old as the Blue Centaurs which often roam
amongst the ghosts of the Gray Wood.
As you know, I am wont to kill any creature beyond my needs for, survive
as I must, mine is a creed of justice and peace. As you know, these are the ways of all the forest beings, as
all who gather here must admit. Even Weasel – sly and sleek and toothy on the prowl
– must respect these simple laws of the forest. As you know, to ignore the ways of the forest would bring
the Evil Spirits from the bowels of Time to haunt us as they
have haunted the forests of our history.Ó
As Birch Spider
spoke the Forest nodded in agreement. And though he hid his toothy grin between
slippery lips and fidgety whickers, Weasel nodded in agreement too. And the flies whispered amongst
themselves in confirmation of the justice of Birch Spider – though they
shuddered to hear his words, slurred and twisted
by the drool which dripped from his hairy fangs.
ÒAs you know,Ó
said Birch Spider, ÒEvil Spirits have risen once again. They have captured the shrill cry of
Hawk before it has left his breast. They have stilled the
pitter-patter hearts of Rain. Evil
Spirits run like blood amongst the laughter of the Buttercup Nymphs. That the Evil Spirits have risen, even
Meadow Mole can see.Ó
When Meadow
Mole heard his name spoken he jumped from Mushroom, where he had been
listening, squinting through his blindness, his whiskers twitching, and he ran
blindly in the direction of Birch SpiderÕs words.
ÒWhat?Ó he
shouted, even as he came close – far too close, some said – to
Cottonmouth. ÒWhat?Ó he shouted,
once more, by then transfixed in CottonmouthÕs sights.
ÒSssssssssss-snake!Ó hissed
Cottonmouth, angered by Meadow MoleÕs impertinence, fighting the urge to swallow him whole,
Truce of no Truce.
Meadow Mole
flipped over backwards in terror.
He knew this terrible sound as the horror of Cottonmouth prowling over
his burrow at night. Meadow Mole
ran for his life. No creature
dared laugh, though some found humor at Meadow MoleÕs
expense. The smaller creatures
were heartened that Meadow Mole survived the encounter with Cottonmouth
unscathed. Their faith in the Truce
of the Oak Seedling was redoubled.
Birch Spider
continued.
ÒThe thunder in
the peat moss has shaken earthworm.
Whole forests have vanished.
Many trees are sick with disease. Salmon can no longer run uprivers. Wolverine can bear no young. And Ladyslipper has found no mate. Her tears have been heard throughout
the forest.Ó
ÒEvil Spirits
threaten all life,Ó said Birch Spider, suddenly filled with grief. ÒFrom the neighborhood of my delicate
web, members of my own family have perished. My blood too has been spilled. My children live in perpetual fear.Ó
As he spoke,
tearlets fell from the microducts of Birch SpiderÕs sad blue eyes. Trout rose above the ripples of the
Water Spirits to catch the sadness of Birch SpiderÕs tears, dripping from Birch
Spiders cheeks, onto his web and down, over troutÕs gills. As Trout swallowed the tearlets of
Birch SpiderÕs pain, Trout shared the sadness in Birch SpiderÕs heart. And Trout felt his own pain. And Trout wept. And then all the creatures wept the
pain which had filled their hearts in recent moons, pain of lost friends, pain
of broken nests and shattered homes, pain of lost loves.
Willow wept a
solemn song at the edge of the forest.
The Flowers drooped over and cried. Porcupine turned her head into her quills, where her tears
could fall, hidden from all, on her bristly heart. Doves rubbed cheeks together, cooing sadly, as tears dripped
onto the pine needles below. With each tear which hit the ground a yellow Daffodil
sprouted and blossomed, until the ground beneath the doves was covered with
tiny Daffodils. Mantis whispered
the Prayer of the Broken Heart.
Turtle pushed his head out of his shell, stretched his neck as far as it
would stretch, and wailed the pain of many sorrows. Chipmunk, sitting on TurtleÕs back,
tried to console him. In the end,
Chipmunk threw himself over TurtleÕs back and cried too. Though saddened to its deepest roots,
Oak Seedling continued to grow.
Forest Toad, his rubbery legs unsteadied by sorrow, could barely jump
over it. Barred Owl turned his bright but
bitter eyes to the ground. ÒI have
shed all my tears,Ó he whispered, sadly.
ÒThose long, empty nights, where I called and I called – Who? Who?
Who? – and listened and
listened, for my lover. But there
was no answer. There was no ÒMe,
Me, Me,Ó to answer. There is no
lover for me. Burned by the fire
of an endless search, Barred Owl burst into tears once more.
For several days, all creatures shed
their tears. But none sobbed as
sorrowful and sad as Great Cat. Great Cat sobbed
as he thought of his lonely mate – her tasseled mane, the flash of her
tail, her golden breasts, the twinkle in her eye – and her soul
wandering, alone, in the tinfoil wilderness of Intruders who came with the roar
of thunder and took his precious love from him. The sobs of Great Cat echoed through the forest and shook
the Cherry Hills beyond. With
his head hung proud and high, Great Cat shared his great and bottomless pain
without shame.
Hearing the sobs of Great Cat, the Lily Fairies
poked their tiny heads out of the Lily
blossoms. When they saw Great Cat
sobbing, they lifted, one-by-one, with tiny blue wings and soft pink skin, and
together they tried to soothe Great CatÕs soul. But all their power and all their magic could not stop Great
CatÕs sobbing: So great was Great
CatÕs pain.
With their own tiny pink hearts broken, the Lily Fairies broke down too.
From
tiny heads buried in tiny hands, their tiny tears rained over Great Cat. And as each tiny tear of the Lily
Fairies struck the flesh of Great Cat, a tiny note twinkled through the
forest. The tears of the Lily
Fairies twinkled like wind chimes. Still Great Cat sobbed and sobbed.
When the river of tears was so deep that it began
to carry the smaller creatures away, when Oak Seedling had climbed to one-half
the height of Forest ToadÕs leap, then Birch Spider spoke once more.
ÒTogether we shed our tears alone,Ó said Birch
Spider. When he said this, Great
CatÕs whiskers sank low and his eyes began to
water once again. But Birch Spider
– afraid that Great CatÕs sobs would again cast them into mourning
– spoke quickly, with much clarity of purpose, with great valor. Forgetting his own sorrows, nodding the
sorrows of Great Cat, surveying all who had come to hear him,
Birch Spider spoke with the red truth of RobinÕs breast.
ÒThey were two,Ó he said, speaking of the
Strangers. ÒThey came in peace and
tranquility, seeking peace and tranquility. Before my tiny being, causing me great terror, they appeared
as large and powerful as Grizzly.Ó
As Birch Spider pointed at Grizzly, a lightning
bolt struck the air behind him and his words exploded with a force that
startled even cynical, old Black Bullfrog. The force with which Grizzly heard his name spoken brought
him up on his hind legs, his giant paws flailing, where he roared the angry
grief from his own heart. Many
creatures had heard of GrizzlyÕs might, but few had ever seen: In fear they ran for their lives,
diving into rotted logs or woodpeckerÕs holes. The Gill-eds plunged underwater. The Fang-eds hid in the leaves. The Wing-eds lifted above the forest like a dark cloud. Grizzly roared and roared.
In his careless anger, with a single swipe of his
giant paw, Grizzly felled Old Cedar.
The creatures shrieked: Old
Cedar was as old and wise as Oak Seedling was young and innocent. As poor Old Cedar fell to the ground,
crushed and broken before his time, the creatures broke into hysterical tears:
Grizzly had broken he Truce of the Oak
Seedling. Grizzly stood before
them then, naked, confused, his mangled heart shattered with regret. After much deliberation, and with much
sorrow, Grizzly was banished from the Grove of the Whispering Pines. With his head hung low and his tail
between legs, with his heart dripping from his eyes and running over his face,
Grizzly left in silence. All
creatures watched in horror as Grizzly left them,
lonely and forlorn, lost in the wilderness of his own wild heart. Behind him a trail of blue tear-drops
sprouted from the earth where his tears had fallen. The tear-drop blossoms opened then, one-by-one, each
revealing a choir of Angers singing within. As the blue tear-drops blossomed in GrizzlyÕs wake, the song
of the Angels grew and grew until it was heard by all. The Angels of the Tear-drops sang a
melancholy chorus and with the banishment of Grizzly, the loss of Old Cedar,
and his own sorrow, it sent Great Cat to sobbing once more. Grizzly was gone.
As the creatures once again mourned with Great Cat,
the Cedar Waxwings gathered together the many shards of Old Cedar. Wrapped like treasure in the tart flesh
of Elderberries and carried on the wing, they scattered Old Cedar over soil and
sky and water like seeds of wisdom. And still Great Cat sobbed and sobbed.
When Birch Spider finally spoke, again he spoke of
the two Strangers. ÒIt is true,Ó
he said, Òthat these beings are Intruders. But I and I alone have seen the embers of a wonderful fire
which burns in their eyes, a fire which glows red and hot like the passion in
their hearts, a fire which not even the Spirit of Rain could smother. It is the Fire of All Beings. Huddled in fear at the center of my
web I watched these Strangers approach.
They spied me there.
Shaking with fear I fell from my web – but the Stranger caught me
in his hand. Together they looked
into my eyes as he held me there.
I saw peace and love and wisdom within them. And then he set me free.Ó
At these words the many creatures moved closer to
Birch Spider, sure to hear. The
flies trusted Birch Spider with their lives as they perched on his web: Birch Spider nodded their
security. With blue fins and bony
tails Trout slid themselves onto slippery rocks, while the nearby hunger of
Martin and Otter – sitting up, on hind
legs, leaning close – ate only of Birch SpiderÕs words.
ÒHe took her hand as they shared our world,Ó said
Birch Spider. ÒThey showered
happiness over all as they explored the mysteries known only to the Whispering
Pines. They
spoke, as Blue Jay will confirm, of the sanctity of the Earth.Ó
As Birch Spider said this, all eyes went to Blue
Jay. Puffing up her chest and the
tuft of feathers on her head, using the talents endowed her of
which all were familiar, Blue Jay mimicked the voices of the Intruders for all
the creatures to hear. The
creatures listened with wonder. The
sounds Blue Jay made were strange but clear: There was no mistaking the intent
of the
Strangers. After Blue Jay had
finished, Birch Spider spoke once more.
ÒAnd so you see,Ó he said, Òthey are of us. They are not Intruders. They stood
here, cheek to cheek, their eyes burning with the passion of the wilderness,
seeking the Wisdom of the Whispering Pines. They believe in us.
In you, Rabbit. In you,
Copper Beetle. In you, Great
Cat. They too suffer for our
losses. They would shed tears were
you to perish, Flicker. They would
revere the Dance of the Quartz Rainbow, Butterfly. And they would sob as sad and sorrowful
as Great Cat, were they to see hi fallen love before them.
As Birch Spider said this, Great Cat heaved his
sullen frame up off the mossy ledge where he had lain throughout the Truce, and
with a roar so fierce that it startled even Grizzly – who was by then
far, far away – Great Cat leapt from the cliff with all the agility and
speed of the angry Warrior he had become.
Great Cat scattered the many creatures once more. On the ground he stood as firm and
resolute as the Whispering Pines, his
solid frame as vibrant with emotion as the seas of a terrible storm. And with all the power of justice and
truth and compassion, Great Cat roared his mighty pain for all the Intruders to
hear. Like an ominous wave Great
CatÕs roar spread over the Earth, shaking the
inveterate ignorance of the Intruders to the pillars of their uncaring and
denial. Great Cat roared and
roared such that all would see and hear and feel the Pain of the Last Lonely
One. Like Ladyslipper, like Barred
Owl, Great Cat was alone. He could search
no more. And for every roar of
Great Cat, all heard – from far, far away – the great and sorrowful
roar of Grizzly.
And so Great Cat roared. And Grizzly roared. And Great Cat roared. And Grizzly. But as Great Cat roared, all life went out of his broken
heart and, on this day, his legs wavering, his roar weakening, Great Cat fell,
brokenhearted. All life went out
of Great Cat. His great roars
faded into soundless mews, his chest shuddered. And with his tears frozen on his whiskery cheeks and his
sad blue eyes locked open in disillusion – a testimonial to unrequited
love, a passionate reminder of what once was, another historical monument left
to crack and crumble for those who would not miss what they never knew – Great Cat was turned
to stone. Grizzly kept on
roaring. But Great Cat was no
more.
Whether the creatures felt greater pain in the
silence of Great CatÕs earthly passing, or whether the incessant sobbing of
Great Cat had hurt them more, none
knew for sure. In
their hearts all creatures bled for Great Cat. In their eyes the silver tears gathered and fell like icicles in the spring.
For twenty moons Grizzly roared and roared. Did Grizzly know, the creatures
wondered? Many remembered the
words of Bullfrog. What did
Bullfrog mean? Even
as Oak Seedling grew eye-to-eye with Forest Toad at the height of his leap, none
could reconcile the intense pain of the forever loss of Great Cat. The Whispering Pines had not foreseen
such a sad event. The many
creatures were badly shaken. But
in their common love for life and for truth and for the two Strangers whom
they now trusted, the creatures gathered together once more as the Truce of the
Oak Seedling came to a close. There was much confusion and despair until Birch Spider
spoke. Again he spoke of the two
Strangers.
ÒAs I have said, the Strangers are of us. They came, here, to mingle with our
souls. They did not come to draw
our blood. They came to share
themselves. Our destinies are
linked like the seasons. We
must touch them. We must speak to
them. We must invite them to
return, to share our world, to breathe the wild scent of our beings. We must run from the Grove of the
Whispering Pines and show them we are still here. Remind them, for they know not what they do. Invite them back to make love on
the soft blanket of the Grove of the Whispering Pines. It is there that they will find solace
and comfort for their long journey.
Their destiny is mingled with ours. Surely they will not choose to travel the millennia alone.Ó
The voice of the tine Birch Spider had grown very
loud though no creature could understand why. ÒGo!Ó he
shouted. ÒGo friends!Ó Go
enemies! Go! Speak to the Intruders from your
hearts. Sing them songs. Go! Remind them of our fragility. Break through the uncaring crusts of the
Intruders. Bring them the love
which I saw in these two Strangers.
The love in his eyes, as he looked at her. Go! For Great
Cat and for Grizzly. Spread the
ferocious love of these two Strangers to the hearts of the many
Intruders. The Intruders have done
much harm. The Intruders will
return. Go!Ó
As Birch Spider said this he pointed toward the
sunlight of the orange oaks and yellow maples, beyond the Grove of the
Whispering Pines. The creatures, still greatly
saddened by the fall of Great Cat and the banishment of grizzly, began moving
away. Some creatures resigned
themselves to fate. Others were
troubled by Black BullfrogÕs words.
But remembering the two StrangersÕ love for them, there was renewed hope
in the hearts of all. And so the
creatures departed, in ones and twos, in packs and in flocks,
young carrying old, friends carrying enemies, on hoof and on wing and on the
blue fins of Trout, until all had disappeared from the glade and only the
wisdom of the Whispering Pines could be heard on the Watchful Wind.
Turning back to the tiny neighborhood of his web,
Birch Spider spied Fly there.
Intoxicated by words of justice and wisdom and hope, Fly lingered where
he had perched to listen. With the
indifference and blood of violence, Birch Spider snared Fly where he lingered. As the last energies of the doomed
creature shuddered from its mangled body, Birch Spider quickly surveyed the
forest. Basking with the Sunbeams
on the ochre moss in the Polywogg stream was wise old Trout. Having witnessed Birch SpiderÕs treachery,
Trout laughed like the icy Moon of winterÕs night. ÒSelfish fool,Ó he said, as he slid into his watery
realm. ÒThe cowardly creed of the
Intruder.Ó
Forest Toad had jumped for the duration of the
Truce but he could no longer jump as high as Oak Seedling had grown. He no longer tried. The Truce of the Oak Seedling had
ended. Forest Toad hopped away.