enhancing
the glimmer cast from the windows
strangely
enchanting the dislocated sound.
Lumpy
and the princess came out to greet them
but
meeting the trauma they stopped in their tracks.
ever
so gently they unstrapped the trappings
springing back the springs in the ponies' packed backs.
while the fire sparked its primal enchantment
and Gramps spun yarns of inverted circumstance
nothing could inspire the warmth or the light
to
summon Pally from the depths of his trance.
all the terror laid bare in his anguished stare
chilled
the gathering deer to the very bone.
but though it caused Weepy to glisten with tears
Pally's petrified gaze was dry as a stone.
he
wrestled the night nestled in Nate's embrace,
lost
in a darkness impenetrably deep.
from
adjacent rooms faint sobbing could be heard
and
two or three voices cried out in their sleep.
the
moon bathed the earth in august splendor
evoking
its canticle of keening howl.
Pasty
paced the woods, flinging glancing glow
spoiling
the dinner of a disgruntled owl.
something
was rustling in the silvery gloom
so
she slipped within the branches of a tree.
then
a striding figure shifted the shadows
pausing
in a place Sludge White could plainly see.
a
handsome lass was clad in leather armour
with
penetrating eyes and a candid grin,
her
lustrous hair bedecked in dangling cornrows
cascading
on luminous, ebony skin.
as
she calmly inquired "why art thou hiding?"
her
flickering laughter lapped the brittle air.
the
princess emerged as her heart skipped a beat.
"only
to observe a smattering of care".
"i
see. then i ought to introduce myself.
i'm
citizen Sylvana, of Fleagle's Fern;
protectress
of the Peoples' Free Collective,
an
anarchist, and an acolyte of Herne.
we
brought aid to the survivors of the flood
and
uncovered a mountain pass steeped in rocks.
for
two days i've been bailing out a hamlet,
feeding
the farmers, and unmiring an ox."
"i'm known as Sludge White, and most pleased to meet you.
there's
a cottage nigh, where i'm staying with friends.
wouldst
thou partake of rest and refreshment?
it's
just simple fare. i'm afraid we're at loose ends."
"i
accept your kindness, and beg your pardon,
for
i mean no slight to your lady mother.
but
a name like that could hardly suit you.
i
wonder if you answer to any other?"
"my
friends call me Pasty" the princess replied,
stepping
over flowers filling up with dew.
Sylvana
sparkled with musical chuckles,
and
shaking her head, said "that'll have to do."
their
voices lingered in the sleeping forest,
till
the last glints of moonshine began to fade.
then
dawn resurrected the drowsy landscape,
splashing
its flashes of pink amongst the jade;
advancing
the gift of a separate grace
for
spanning the hours and wearing down shores;
for
grafting the grieving into different drifts
as
their feet find the grooves of well-worn floors.
rose-tinted
arcs illumined kitchen windows,
igniting
gilt edges of saucers and plates;
as
Lumpy and Weepy heaped on the table
plump
bowls of porridge, buttered crumpets, and dates.
"you
must have something" said Sappy with concern.
Pally
strayed farther in his faraway eyes.
it
was the first time they'd seen him unadorned,
in
the folds of Nate's cape, skirting past his thighs.
though Gramps gnarled fingers tousled his tangles
and
the otter tucked his tail around his feet
this failed to elicit any response.
for despite the mute scream his silence was complete.
Rashful's
bark blasted through an open window.
"just
how the hell did the ponies get unhitched?"
as
each person's glance met another's nonplussed,
Weepy
looked down and his jittery lips twitched.
a
wrathful visage sprang into the window,
it's
glare occluded by overhanging eaves.
those
gathered at the table shrugged their shoulders,
while
Weepy of course, was sobbing in his sleeves.
"i
should have guessed it would be you!" said Rashful,
rushing
in recklessly and slamming the door.
Sappy
stood swiftly to fend off the fury.
startled
deer scattered from their spots on the floor.
"we
have to accept each other as we are.
that's
what we all agreed, from the very start.
since
Weepy senses what the animals feel,
we
must respect him when he follows his heart."
Rashful
struggled with himself for a moment,
and
settled on secreting a strangled sigh.
then
Sappy squeezed the dripping hanky, and said
"there
now, dear Weepy, there's no more need to cry."
the
otter prodded more grumbles from Rashful,
trampling
his toes on the way to Weepy's lap.
"i
don't know what's come over me lately.
i
never used to be such a softhearted sap!"
Sylvana
was delightfully diverted,
fondly
reposing a hand on Pasty's knee.
Mock
instantly noticed, but feigned nonchalance,
while
passing to Lumpy honey for his tea.
"what
was it?" asked Sleazy, audibly airing
the
one burning question on everyone's minds.
Gropey
dropped the dishes he was balancing,
cluttering
a muddle of shards, crumbs, and rinds.
but
all their attention focused on Pally,
his
head cupped despondently under Nate's chin.
"they
mentioned a weapon" the woodsman offered.
"the
soldiers discussed it when they brought me in.
it
was something that could kill at a distance,
so
its use would pose no danger to themselves."
"well
as long as they're safe!" said Mock with a smirk.
"another
'orror snatched from misery's shelves!"
"that's
the whole point of makin' weapons" snapped Gramps.
"wreakin'
'avoc without feelin' its effects."
"to
do away with Karma?" Sylvana
blanched.
"surely
that's not a thing a person directs."
"as
i told Mock when 'e were just a sprat,
the
world's been in denial since it got started."
she
thoughtfully looked from one to the other.
"how
long has it been since you two were parted?"
"you'd
better ask 'im, i've no 'ead for numbers,
and
me best guess wouldn't be near enough right.
it
were all darkness for us in that dungeon,
with
no way o' tellin' the day from the night.
but
it 'urt me 'eart fierce to be without 'im,
for
i raised 'im, you see, since 'e were a pup.
any
moment now it's like as not to burst,
seein'
'ow me darlin' boy's grown 'imself up."
Mock
said "they took 'im when i was eleven.
days
later they told me 'e died of the pox.
that's
when i first were branded a terrorist,
for
peltin' the sentries with insults and rocks."
Sylvana's
laughter rippled in soothing waves.
Rashful
leaned in closer, leaving off his wrath.
"may
i ask what decided you, m'lady,
to
foster the seedlings on the Green Man's path?"
"as
a child i'd heard of Herne the Hunter,
but
stumbled on his acquaintance in a dream.
he
placidly stood in a sun-dappled wood,
resplendent
and smiling in his dazzling beam.
his
antlers appeared to be growing swiftly,
yet
they managed to remain a constant height;
and
the moon and the stars rose in the sunshine,
filling
the forest with several shades of light.
a
herd of deer danced enigmatic steps,
weaving
a pattern too intricate to follow.
then
he beckoned while his image receded,
taking
me with him to a haloed hollow.
surrounded
there by cedars and willows,
we
ambled past mushrooms of astonishing size.
vines
were entwined with tinkling sapphire bells.
and strangely hued rainbows shimmered in the skies.
empathetic
animals thronged at my side.
flowers
blossomed in bewildering array.
i
felt so completely peaceful and happy,
i
couldn't imagine not wanting to stay.
when
i reluctantly woke from this vision,
i
knew i'd embarked on a signal sea change.
but
finding myself alone in our cottage,
i
hastily scoured the rest of the grange."
a
gripping stillness soaked up Sylvana's pause,
the
table held tautly in tense suspension.
rapt,
spellbound birds had assembled on the sills,
and
even Pally was paying attention.
Pasty
seemed unable to believe her ears.
though
captivated she was plainly perplexed.
poor
Rashful was flirting with apoplexy,
blurting
"well, what the bloody hell happened next?"
Sylvana
continued, rethreading the strands
misfortune
had seeded, then callously strewn.
"i
discovered my mother in the garden,
her
hemorrhaging injuries disclosing bone.
flapping
scraps of shredded dress ripped through the air,
as
her windswept spirit was torn from my hands.
of
my father i found only his pitchfork,
broken
and splintered on the blood-spattered sands.
panicked
and crushed at the loss of my parents,
compelled
and entranced by the promise of Herne;
i
decided to set out for the hollow,
grasping
hopeless straws, yet yearning to return.
but
the trees i walked under didn't greet me,
and
sapphire bells weren't blooming in the sage.
it
was only the greenwood i'd grown up in,
with
nothing to temper my heartsickened rage.
at
the edge of the forest stood a cottage,
which
i'd willingly swear was waiting for me.
a
wizened old woman beckoned from a window,
'come
in, my poppet. you're in time for tea.'
despite
misgivings, i pushed open the door;
inciting
glitter in the hovering dust.
sprigs
of drying herbs dangled from the ceiling,
mingling
their fragrance with primordial must.
a
cauldron was simmering in the fireplace,
adeptly
stirred by a free-floating spoon.
two
or three brooms had been propped in a corner;
another
swept ashes while whistling a tune.
a
caucus of crows clung to the chimney,
profoundly
engaged in a heated discussion.
a
monkey was slapping the clock with a stick,
keeping
the time with impromptu percussion.
'they've
been at it all morning,' she chuckled.
'they'll
tire soon enough. don't pay them any
mind.'
then
she lifted a cup into empty space
and
i suddenly understood she was blind.
as
the afternoon waned i learned her story
how
she tended the rustics for leagues around,
with natural remedies poultices
which
hearsay said were the best that could be found.
Guanyin
was named for the Goddess of Mercy
and
crossed the fell mountains from the farthest east.
she'd
settled in the outskirts of Fleagle's Fern
to decline no mild man, nor kindly beast.
we've
bided together since our first meeting
and
she's taught me all the healing lore i know.
but
when i suggested Herne charted my steps
she
said the wind introduced us even so.
from
that day to this i've been an apprentice
extending
the work of her dexterous hands.
and
i serve in the People's Free Collective
to
ferment freedom in plutocratic lands.
we're
a council empowered by peasants
to
see to their needs and defend the common good.
honoring
an oath i plighted to Herne
i'm
an escort for outcasts adrift in the wood."
Lumpy
caught Weepy as he dipped in a swoon,
sparked
and smitten by Sylvana's gallant tale.
it
seemed that Sappy had forgotten to breathe,
his
chocolate skin tempered to a creamy pale.
Pasty
grew pensive. "i fled to that hollow,
ferried
through the air by some magical grace.
encircled
by willows, enveloped by bells,
your
phantom hollow is an actual place."
Gramps
said "quite surely. it's in all the
legends.
custom
calls it 'appily Ever After.
that's
'cause it's mostly composed of reflections
and
tears shed there are said to brim with laughter.
no
space misplaces your neighbors or their thoughts
and
each consequence gets concurrently cast.
whatever
you fancy unfolds on the spot
yet
the time it befalls has already passed."
"it's
not likely you've heard of it." Mock observed.
"i'll
warrant their majesties wouldn't approve.
to
escape the contagion of reflection
they'd
bloody well force the whole kingdom to move."
mirth unfastened every face but Pally's
for humour was estranged from his senses by grief,
swapped like the hopes of ByWater Landing
for the changeling terror of a soul-sickened thief.
Sylvana
took her leave early that evening
as
a blushing sun flooded the earth with rust,
and
the frayed shadows of unattained desires
shifted
about in the unsettled dust.
they
bade their farewells amidst sighing thrushes
in
the drift of cooing doves, plaintive and hushed.
yet
somehow Sludge White simply failed to fathom
why
her heartbeat fluttered and her cheeks felt flushed.
faint
stars made their flickering appearance
while
a parcel of ponies scampered in a field.
for
the very first time in their hemmed in lives
they
weren't reined, restrained, or required to yield.
eternal
yearning revolved in the sky
as
the planets revelled in their ponderous dance.
unleashing
their kindred downtrodden wishes,
the ponies frolicked in a freewheeling prance.
