Journey to Ninas Twei Book One of The Earth Woman Tree Woman Quartet Read online

  Chapter 2

  Moon of Ripening Fruit

  Tata Sundancer circled high in the sunlit sky, gliding over the sea below and then beating his way back up the air currents to the top of the cliffs. He swooped low over the golden meadow, tipping his wings to the ancient oak tree, and then climbed the air currents up the hillside behind, turning higher and higher in the sky until he could see the wiry young man in jeans and open work shirt seated beside the sacred spring. Landing next to him, he called, “She’s come, Yameno Wolfwind,” and then took off back into the sky, heading again for the meadow.

  Yameno bowed to the little waterfall, renewing his vow to protect the spring as his people had protected it for centuries. He stood, pushing his long black hair away from his face. Singing a low song, he transformed into his Tla Twei – a huge gray wolf – and trotted across the top of the hillside to a place where he, too, could watch the meadow, his silvery fur a shadow under the trees.

  Stillness crept over the hillside, muffling the background hum of insects and birds, sung to the deep faint beat of the sea pulsing beyond the meadow.

  The Wolfwind, sitting on his haunches between two pines, nodded to the Sundancer flying high above him, and then lay down, feeling the spongy needles under his pads. He nosed a weed away from his face, and peered at the meadow below, watching the figures at the edge of the cliff, his ears perked forward, intent.

  The woman, and the small gray cat standing beside her, turned and watched the hawk rise out of sight. The sea wind swirled her cotton skirt around her legs. The wolf's body was tight, unmoving, as he sat watching and waiting.

  The beating of the surf on the rocks, the wind swishing through the meadow grass echoed a thrumming in Giselle's chest as she watched the circling hawk. She would do yoga here at the edge of the cliff every day. Surya Namaskara, the sun salutation. What a perfect place to do it – at sunset, watching the sun go down over the sea! She stretched her arms wide and threw her head back, feeling the pull on her spine reach down the backs of her legs and lift her heels from the ground. My house, my meadow, my beach, my place! This is my place!

  Breath, the song came whispering:

  Listen,

  Whispering breath,

  Anima of the earth,

  Murmuring in the wind-whipped grasses,

  Lift my feet and keep me dancing.

  And my song! With a quick release of her breath, she straightened, reaching for the sky, and then contracted in, touching the ground, curling into herself in a deep bow to the earth and the sea and the sky.

  Breath,

  Flowing in the waves of the sea,

  Creep into my soul and conquer me.

  The two dogs, who had been racing across the field, came back and ran in wide circles around Giselle and the cat. Caught up in their joy, she ran after them and soon led them around and around, beating a path in the meadow grasses. She tossed her head and laughed and the dogs wiggled and leapt and added small yaps to the whistling wind. Faster and faster they circled, until her breath gave out and she fell smiling on the ground.

  Breath,

  Singing through the voice of the wind,

  Dance with me, sing with me,

  Take my hand,

  Enter me as a lover,

  Make me one with you.

  A small breeze caressed her as she lay still, gazing at the sky. The dogs pounced on her, full of licks and rubs, shoving their cold noses into her neck. She held them both close and warm, one under each arm. The cat climbed up on her chest between the dogs and rubbed his head under her neck. “Do you hear the music, animals?” she whispered. “Do you hear it?”

  Breath,

  Warmed by the life-giving sun,

  Burn, burn within me, until I am consumed.

  Click here to listen to song

  The sun reached the edge of the sea and the jagged rocks pointed from their foam washed bases to the fire-lit sky. The wolf's gaze was drawn from the woman to where the hawk winged a swooping dance across the sinking sun.

  Even the dogs were quiet as the pink and orange light consumed the day. The cat rubbed against the woman and she sat up, pulling him into her arms, hugging him tightly, and running her fingers through his fur.

  Then the light was gone and the sea turned dark.

  The Wolfwind watched the woman return to the house set against the hillside. He lay there for a while after she disappeared under the cover of the porch, and then slipped away, a silver shadow in the dark forest. Loping tirelessly through the woods to the edge of town where the forest met the cat woman’s backyard, he crouched behind a tree and made a small yapping noise. The door opened noiselessly and Luhanada, walked swiftly to the edge of the woods. She smiled and pushed a strand of red hair shot with gray back behind her ear, as she watched the Wolfwind take human form. “She came,” Yameno said, joyfully hugging the woman.

  “Yes, Tata told me,” she replied.

  “Did he tell you of the song that came from the earth? Could he hear it from the sky?”

  “Yes, and I could hear it here.”

  Yameno nodded thoughtfully. “Ninas Twei sent for her. Ninas Twei is calling her – calling us all,” he added.

  “You’ll be able to create the totem?” she asked, anxiously.

  “Yes, soon. I’m beginning to understand it,” he nodded. “Beginning,” he added, smiling. They hugged again before he took wolf form, melting back into the trees.

  A large yellow cat came and twined himself around her ankles, rubbing back and forth. She leaned down and picked him up before walking silently back to the house and settling herself in a chair, the cat in her lap, the other cats sleeping or bathing on the sofa and in other cozy spots around her. The music had started. Twei – both music and dance in the language of Yameno’s people, the Tuwillians. “Well, cat,” she whispered. “Now we gather. First this young woman, then the children.”

  Giselle lit a fire in the small stone fireplace. Tonight was a new beginning. Not just a move to a new town and a new job and her wonderful new house. There’s something else, she thought. She looked into the fire. Today, in the meadow by the cliff, a hawk circled and the earth sang. I heard it. She looked at the little cat. Didn’t I?

  Waxing Crescent

  The morning sun fell across the old oak bed awakening Giselle and the two dogs lying curled one on each side of her. As she rolled over to look at the time, a small gray head popped out from under the covers. The cat climbed precariously up her side to her shoulder and then leaned his head down and rubbed it under her chin. She hugged his whole soft body close to her and let his strong tail run through her hands as he arched and walked away across the bed.

  Yameno Wolfwind, welcoming the morning scent of pine surrounding him, lay under the same tree as the day before watching the little house. Tata glided in the swift air currents above the cliff. Both watched as Giselle opened the door and the cat walked out, turned toward the hill and stretched, pulling all his rippling body back and back, fixing his eyes on that particular spot in the pines where the Wolfwind sat. Yameno grinned back, his red tongue hanging from the side of his muzzle. The hawk called and the cat padded down the porch steps and sat looking up at the swooping bird.

  Giselle, still in her pajamas, followed the cat and looked up at the hawk, watching until he disappeared around the wooded hillside. She laughed and shook her head. It was less than two weeks since she first saw this house and here she was living in it! “I’m here,” she whispered, moving in a circle, her arms outstretched, stopping as she faced the oak tree’s ancient, commanding presence out in the middle of the wild grasses. Now it was... not her tree. You couldn’t own a tree. It felt more like it owned her. Looking out to sea, she felt the warmth of the sunshine sliding down her back. The world seemed friendly, welcoming, as if the air, the atmosphere was caressing her. Even the soil in the garden was just sitting there waiting for her to dig her fingers in, wiggling in anticipation!

  She laughed and ran back into the house eager t
o buy garden tools and other housekeeping supplies. A little later she appeared on the porch fully dressed, leaping down the three steps to the ground. Soon her car was leaving a cloud of dust as she climbed the dirt road to the highway.

  As soon as she left, Yameno trotted down the hill to the house, waiting a moment at the edge of the woods to make sure the car was out of sight. The dogs ran out the doggy door, barking, and then crouched to greet him as he took human form. They sniffed him and then rubbed closer, wagging their tails and murmuring little whines. He scratched their ears and allowed them to escort him to the house.

  The gray cat sat at the top of the porch stairs and he sat on the steps a moment and scratched his ears. “You've done well, little friend.” The cat purred and rubbed against him.

  He stood up and went to the window on the left of the door and looked in at the living room. Boxes of books were stacked against one wall, waiting to be shelved on boards and bricks. Across from them, an old trunk sat in front of a comfortable, but shabby looking sofa. There were plants in every window. The dogs and cat followed him, rubbing and begging for pats and cuddles, as he walked around the porch to the kitchen windows, shading his eyes as he peered in past the plants at the oak table and wooden chairs. He laughed at them, gave them all a little hug, then slipped off the porch and strode up the hill.

  When Giselle returned from town a little later, he was sitting with his back against a boulder at the top of the hill reading a book. He glanced down as her car pulled in, shifting his position so that he could see the house without moving his head too much from the book, and returned to his reading.

  Giselle went happily to work in her garden. The work was hard, but the chill breeze from the sea made the warm sun on her back welcome. She was able to pull most of the large brush out by hand loosening the soil, and then sort through the dirt with her hands for the offending weeds and grasses.

  “I know why the sand box is always the most popular part of the play yard,” she informed the dogs. “It feels like the dirt wants your hands in it. Sensual dirt, flowing through your fingers, rubbing against you, loving every minute of your digging in it.” Once she turned up a fat wiggling earthworm. She jumped, letting him fall back to the earth and laughed. “I'm sorry. I do like you, worm. Eat and enjoy! And I hope you have a large family.” The worm wiggled off into the dirt.

  Giselle stood up and stretched taking a deep breath. The mingled odors of fresh-turned soil, the thick unkempt greenery in back of the house, and the salty sea air seemed as heady as ether. She stretched, taking in the wide circle of her world.

  The oak tree in the meadow stopped her.

  Waves of things of forms I am…

  She took a deep breath and walked over to it. It feels so important, this tree. I want to touch it. I want to climb inside and be this tree. She reached out to its warm trunk. The ridges made a rough bark, and yet each one was individually smooth. She sat between its roots and leaned her head back against the trunk, turning her cheek to feel the rough-smoothness. Everything seemed so silent – waiting. She heard the sea gulls out by the cliff and the smaller woods birds in the forest on the hill behind her.

  The man on the hill saw her smile. He watched the cat walk over and sit quietly by her side. The afternoon seemed to take a deep still breath...

  Sinking into the soil and twining into the twisted oak, no longer existing apart, no longer separate from the rest of the universe, she was the soil, the air, the tree...

  Waves of things of forms I am,

  exist in dreams within me.

  Flow through the sap of trees to come

  and leaves to come.

  Falling, decaying, the soil I am,

  a nutrient for things living.

  Eating the earth,

  the water and sun,

  fruit I become,

  feeding the unrooted beings

  ever I'm giving.

  And then I am free!

  I stretch my wings

  and fling myself into the air.

  I sing!

  I call!

  My joy is beyond any earthly care.

  The snap of the jaws of the four-legged one

  is only a moment of pain,

  for I am living again

  with a different name.

  And when this life's done

  the worms I become,

  and pass to the earth

  to gain my rebirth.

  Click here to listen to song

  The sun shifted just enough to fall across her face, pushing away the shade of the oak.

  Breath,

  Warmed by the life-giving sun….

  She turned her head to look into the twisting branches of the old tree and the two songs seemed to weave together…

  Breath,

  Live in the windwhipped grasses…

  Waves of things of forms I am…

  Exist in dreams within me…

  Breath,

  Flowing through the waves of the sea…

  Flow through the sap of trees to come

  and leaves to come.

  Earth and tree,

  Sun and sea.

  Click here to listen to song

  The song faded out to a whisper, like the sea breeze in the leaves above her:

  Earth and sea,

  Sun and tree,

  All one. All one. All one.

  She reached a hand out and rubbed her fingers along a ridge of bark and dug them into a crevice feeling the smooth roundness of years of growing. A warmth tingled from the tree through her fingers and she felt a reluctance to sever the contact. Even after she pulled herself away she felt a strength emanating from it, reaching out like an electrical current from the tips of its branches to the tips of her fingers. She picked up the cat, pulling him tight to her chest. “I think this is what I'm looking for, but I could get lost. I felt lost, like I was gone and the tree – don't let me get lost, kitty.” Giving the tree a last caress, she ran across the field and returned to her garden. She dug in the dirt, feeling a little shaky. “I like the tree,” she whispered. She looked down at the dirt, grinning, “and I like you, earth.”

  The Wolfwind ran south through the forest and then west to the beach. He grinned at brother sea breeze as it ruffled his fur, his nostrils dilated to draw in the thick sea smell. He loped swiftly along the hard packed sand until he came to a driftwood log, wide at one end with a long, thick fork at the other. Becoming two-legged, he went down on one knee beside it and ran his fingers along its water-smoothed surface.

  Tata flew down the beach, landed first on the log, and then flew off onto the beach becoming an older black man, tall and craggy in jeans and black t-shirt.

  Yameno nodded at him and pulled a small knife from his jeans pocket to carve at the hard wood. Tata watched silently as Yameno, the wind whipping his hair into his eyes, sliced a hard piece off and examined it. Yameno sat back and looked at him. “She's the tree.”

  Tata crouched down beside him, his brown hands caressing the driftwood. “Yes, and the earth. The earth sang to her.”

  “Earth and tree. I can feel it in the wood.” Yameno leaned over and rubbed his hand along the water-smoothed log. “And I am wolf and wind and water.”

  Tata smiled and touched his shoulder. He turned his black eyes on the sea and gazed out to the horizon and beyond. Standing up, he brushed the sand off his legs and turned back to Yameno. “I feel… it feels like there’s some urgency to this. They called her.”

  Yameno nodded.

  First Quarter

  A week after Giselle moved in, the dogs barked loudly as the local deputy sheriff drove his car down her driveway and knocked on the door. She had been surprised and a little alarmed to see the officer, a slim fiftyish man with short sandy-brown hair, standing very straight in his khaki uniform and looking a little disapprovingly at her.

  “I heard you were living out here all by yourself. Just dropped by to let you know a few things about the county and law enforcement.” r />
  “Why, thank you. I'm not quite alone. I have two dogs and a cat,” exclaimed Giselle.

  He rested one hand on his belt holster, stuck the thumb of the other into his belt, and turned toward the hill behind her house. “I know you just rented this house, but you might reconsider living way out here on your own.”

  Giselle's brows narrowed. “It's really not very far from town.”

  “Arundel isn't incorporated. There're no police in town. The county sheriffs take care of it all and there's only one deputy at a time covering this north territory. That's two hundred square miles, I'm talking about.” He waved his arm around indicating the size of the territory. “You have some kind of trouble and call it in, I might be on the other side of the county. If you’re in trouble and can’t call it in, we’d never know. Not unless we get one of them surveillance drones.”

  Giselle’s eyes widened and she shuttered. Surveillance drone? “Do you think I'll have any trouble? Do people usually have trouble out here?”

  “No – no.” He turned again toward the hill. “No, not much trouble over here, but I never had a young woman living alone out the country to worry about before.”

  Giselle smiled. “Well, I don't think there's anything to worry about. I have dogs, and frankly I haven't seen anyone out in this area at all. You're the first person who's come down my driveway since I moved in here.” The deputy shrugged his shoulders, muttered something about just letting her know the situation and walked off toward his car. Giselle called out a thank you to him and closed her door.

  Full Moon

  She felt very safe at her house. Her only human contact was when she went to town. She did keep up with friends, and the sometimes heart wrenching state of the world via email and the internet, following especially the news from One Earth Together knowing that OET consolidated news from many other concerned non-profits, but at home, except for the animals, she was alone. She’d driven up and down the streets of Arundel looking at the mostly older houses, well kept with pretty gardens. She’d seen all the stores and a couple of churches, one very traditional looking little white church that contrasted sharply with another very bleak looking church down the street made of gray concrete blocks with a big banner that read, “REPENT AND BE SAVED.” There was one small coffee shop in town and she'd been there for lunch once, and out on the highway there was a restaurant with a bar that didn't look like a place where she'd be too comfortable.

  As far as people were concerned, she’d already become friendly with Hazel Fraya who was the librarian in the one room library – a delightful woman with a mass of red hair beginning to gray pulled back in an unruly braid, who “kept house”, as she secretly confided, for seven plump cats.

  She was only on a “Hello, how are you?” basis with the older black man who could be found gardening in one or another of the yards she passed walking from her parking space to the little library or the local stores. He was the only person of color she’d seen in town so far, which seemed a little odd. His eyes, sharp like a hawk's shining from his craggy dark face, always seemed to catch in hers.

  The storekeepers had been friendly enough. There was a hardware store, a variety store, a combination drug and grocery store, and some smaller businesses. In the weeks before school started Giselle visited all of them. She knew once school started she'd meet some local teachers, but meanwhile, rushing to get the things she needed to settle in before school opened gave her an opportunity to meet some of the local people.

  Back at home hiking through the woods or down the beach Giselle felt totally alone and free to do as she pleased. Free from anyone human at least! Ghosts? Well... she thought of the song that came to her out on the cliff and her experience with the tree. More like spirits.

  Last Quarter

  One day, however, she returned from a trip down the beach to discover a small bouquet of wildflowers sitting on her porch in front of the door. There was no note. She turned full circle looking up at the hills, down the drive and out at the meadow and the tree. No one. Her stomach gave a little twist, but, she thought, anyone could have left the flowers as a welcome, even a child. The deputy had just made her apprehensive.

  Every evening she went out to the meadow by the edge of the cliff to do her yoga exercises and watch the sun set. She felt like the sun, and the sea and the earth and the air, too, were holding her, cradling her in their arms. As she repeated her ritual bows twelve times to the fiery sky, it felt like her body melted into the earth and the air, floating in the pink of the ragged clouds, clinging to the sinking sun, rolling in the curves of the waves as they beat their constant rhythm on the beach, riding them like a roller coaster.

  The gray kitten sat silently at the edge of the cliff, watching the gulls slide down the air currents whipped over the open sea.

  Yameno watched her from his hillside lookout. He studied the contours of her figure, her waist above the small curve of her stomach, the muscular sturdiness of her legs. He came often to watch her bow down to the sun, to capture the feel of her arms outstretched to the sky to translate to the driftwood, to see the swirl of her skirt, and the straightness of her whips of hair in the sea wind. Tata had helped drag the log up the hill to Yameno's home, smiling as he watched Yameno caress the wood, and helping as he turned it this way and that to see the natural curves and crevices. The woman’s totem was begun. “And the children?” Tata had asked. Yameno grinned, pointing to a carving of a squirrel sitting between the ears of a coyote.

  That evening Tata also talked to Luhanada about the children, taking a hot gulp of the tea she’d just poured for him. “We need the children to complete the circle.”

  “They’ll come soon,” she’d replied pouring her own tea, carefully stirring half a teaspoon of honey into its dark amber depths. “The teacher will help bring them.”