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Hornets Nest

Hornet Nest

She was well and truly exhausted, as she sat in the shadow of the Grove looking at the spilled blood, torn grass and shambles of the chime. Her cloak wrapped around her trying to keep the heat in and the rain out. Pain radiated from her back down her legs, her heels feeling like she was standing on daggers even though she was seated. Her heart was broken with the pain of what she had allow to happen in the tunnels, the ending of a Spirit, and she had begged, grovelled to Isabel , abasing herself pleading to have the Spirit released. All the time having to work with that hideous corruption of a mage. It all came to naught of course, the priests prevailed. It was all for the ‘good of the community’. Her head was buzzing, it was like having a hornets nest inside her skull.

She leaned into the tree, seeking solace in the familiar smell and texture of the bark under her cheek. She sung softly to the tree and to herself about spring and the flowing of sap and new buds and leaves. The buzzing did not abate, it droned and swirled around and stung her. She had risked everything, her Grove, her Circle to help them and still, they didn’t understand. They could never get over their stupid writing in their books telling them what was right and who was evil. Even when faced with one of their living Saint and hearing the truth from him, they were bound by their scribbles from small minded fools of ages past.

She worried about what the People would say, she hadn’t seen or hear any of them since Grandfather had whispered to her to welcome the elf as an honoured guest. She hadn’t, she’d been rude to it. Hadn’t offered Hospitality even when the elf demanded it. Had tried to get to the Great Spirit to see if a compromise could be made but the damned Lion people kept getting in the way and then when Etienne had stepped up, she hadn’t been quick enough to stop the Pact. It was one thing to bind yourself but, the whole community? That would be a mistake that everyone would bare.

She thought that maybe she could temper the Pact the next morning at the feast but, the priests were there again, and the mage. Then the worst had happened, when she had stepped back from the Spirit she had seen the mage, waving his hands and wriggling his finger, casting corruption on her! She had called out for him to stop but he had tried to silence her, in desperation she had order dear, sweet Hugo to attack him. He hadn’t, blessing of the Spirits on him, his head had been clear, no hornets sting or buzzing to distract him. Then, the community actually did something together and stopped it. The Great Spirit would have certainly gorged on those emotions. Cadence was there, bringing her back to herself,the Spirit entreating her, almost bending her to pray to him. So much so that she did start to Pray, like crossing a racing river, she Prayed for community, for friendship, anything to try to get to the other side,as the Spirit retreated, in one desperate grasp for safety she wretched away from the Spirit and dedicated the Prayer to Cadence instead.

She though of the Spirit from the tunnels again grieving for the loss, of the Great Spirit corrupted, tormented entreating her to Pray to him. She had denied so much recently, all for this community, these people. She wondered which would happen first, the people burning her as a Witch or would the Standing People destroy her. The buzzing crescendoed in her head, PAIN! Then, in a burst of light she had a brief vision of a figure surrounded by light, then silence and darkness as she collapsed against the tree in relief as the pain stopped and slept.

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Hornets Nest

She was well and truly exhausted, as she sat in the shadow of the Grove looking at the spilled blood, torn grass and shambles of the chime. Her cloak wrapped around her trying to keep the heat in and the rain out. Pain radiated from her back down her legs, her heels feeling like she was standing on daggers even though she was seated. Her heart was broken with the pain of what she had allow to happen in the tunnels, the ending of a Spirit, and she had begged, grovelled to Isabel , abasing herself pleading to have the Spirit released. All the time having to work with that hideous corruption of a mage. It all came to naught of course, the priests prevailed. It was all for the ‘good of the community’. Her head was buzzing, it was like having a hornets nest inside her skull.

She leaned into the tree, seeking solace in the familiar smell and texture of the bark under her cheek. She sung softly to the tree and to herself about spring and the flowing of sap and new buds and leaves. The buzzing did not abate, it droned and swirled around and stung her. She had risked everything, her Grove, her Circle to help them and still, they didn’t understand. They could never get over their stupid writing in their books telling them what was right and who was evil. Even when faced with one of their living Saint and hearing the truth from him, they were bound by their scribbles from small minded fools of ages past.

She worried about what the People would say, she hadn’t seen or hear any of them since Grandfather had whispered to her to welcome the elf as an honoured guest. She hadn’t, she’d been rude to it. Hadn’t offered Hospitality even when the elf demanded it. Had tried to get to the Great Spirit to see if a compromise could be made but the damned Lion people kept getting in the way and then when Etienne had stepped up, she hadn’t been quick enough to stop the Pact. It was one thing to bind yourself but, the whole community? That would be a mistake that everyone would bare.

She thought that maybe she could temper the Pact the next morning at the feast but, the priests were there again, and the mage. Then the worst had happened, when she had stepped back from the Spirit she had seen the mage, waving his hands and wriggling his finger, casting corruption on her! She had called out for him to stop but he had tried to silence her, in desperation she had order dear, sweet Hugo to attack him. He hadn’t, blessing of the Spirits on him, his head had been clear, no hornets sting or buzzing to distract him. Then, the community actually did something together and stopped it. The Great Spirit would have certainly gorged on those emotions. Cadence was there, bringing her back to herself,the Spirit entreating her, almost bending her to pray to him. So much so that she did start to Pray, like crossing a racing river, she Prayed for community, for friendship, anything to try to get to the other side,as the Spirit retreated, in one desperate grasp for safety she wretched away from the Spirit and dedicated the Prayer to Cadence instead.

She though of the Spirit from the tunnels again grieving for the loss, of the Great Spirit corrupted, tormented entreating her to Pray to him. She had denied so much recently, all for this community, these people. She wondered which would happen first, the people burning her as a Witch or would the Standing People destroy her. The buzzing crescendoed in her head, PAIN! Then, in a burst of light she had a brief vision of a figure surrounded by light, then silence and darkness as she collapsed against the tree in relief as the pain stopped and slept.

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With steady hands

With steady hands
She rubbed the wood she had just planed, the smell of the cedar fragrant and sweet. A small rough spot and she applied the plane gently, shaving a near transparent curl of wood that peeled towards her. It popped out of the plane and rolled just a little and fell gently to the floor to join hundreds of others around her feet and skirt. She felt the wood again, smooth, warm and as perfect as she could get it. She looked at the stack of planks she had created. It was pleasant to see so many finished but it was also a sign of her lack of calm.
Her mind was whirling with all that had happened and the change in her responsibilities. Before, there had always been Chevreuil or Poppy and Ginny, now there was just her. She had never thought to be in this position, she was had no training for it. She sighed and rubbed the smooth cedar again. New responsibility, new faces, new problems. She …disliked new, new always had to be weighted, judged to see if it would harm or help the family, the Circle or community. She wasn’t happy about taking the council seat but she was the logical choice. Much as she loved her nephew Simon, good young man that he was, he didn’t truly represent the whole family. There had to be someone to represent the Circle, and make sure that they had a voice. It should be Chevreuil but after the Circle meeting the previous night it had to be her. Merde! And more Merde.
She picked up the finished plank and carefully set it with the others and grabbed another rough piece of wood and picked up her planer. After a quick assessment she slide the tool along the surface of the cedar and let her mind focus on the turmoil of her emotions. The Circle, she hummed as she worked the wood, was yet another responsibility she never expected, but had had to shoulder. She was more comfortable with this one, this, was at least her own people, her family that she loved. She could be sure of their support and understanding as she took on the role of Mother. Most of them already looked to her so it would not be as difficult an adjustment. They were Family, be it by birth or adoption, family supported one another.

There was another thing. With all this …new, there was a…hole. Like when she was a child and a tooth had come out and she would wiggle her tongue in the empty place, exploring, testing for the new tooth that was to come. She knew there would be no new tooth to fill this empty place because it was not a tooth that was missing but part of her heart. She had traded that part of her so she could be Mother. She no longer remembered his face, his smell or any part of him, only that he had been there and was now gone. It was a strange kind of grief, sharp but also dull. She had weighted what she could give the Spirits for the gift of Mother, it was what they all needed, and rather than a future promise that she might not be able to provide she had decided to give the Spirits a part of her past. She sighed again and looked down at the plank she had planed, smooth, she rubbed her work hardened hand along the surface. For no reason she could put a finger on, she reached for her carving knife and with a few deft cuts a fox face appeared in the whirl of a knot. She ran a finger over the engraving, just looking at it, then taking up her plane again she smooth the spot over and it was gone the curl of cedar dropping to the floor with the rest. She swept the plane along the wood one more time and satisfied, put down the plane and place the plank with the other finished one and selecting a new piece of wood returned to her work.

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New direction

She was concentrating on the small mote of dust that floated in the sunbeam filtering through the clouds. Her gaze unfocused as it swirled in the gentle eddy of the air. Yet another bead of sweat trickled down her spine as she tried to meditate on her bond with Benalus.
It was barely blossom time and already she was roasting in the starched white robe and trews she sat in. Giving up on the dust mote she closed her eyes and released all her breathe very, very slowly through her nose, she leaned back against the still cool stone wall easing the pain in her back and legs. Drawing her breath in again she tried to imagine herself instead drawing in the light of Benalus, feeling the glow of that connection she strove for. Exhale, inhale, calm, exhale, calm, inhale. Finally she began to feel her body drift away, pain ebb and tranquility suffuse her being. She floated, as the dust mote had, no direction, at the whim of fate. She felt the tiny spark of joy as the connection was made, rather like tingle before a lightning storm. She let the feeling of joy spread through her, lightening her being. She guided the spark toward her long time goal, lead the way to path she had struggled so hard to create. There was a second of confusion from the spark as considered the path. It stopped as if contemplating the direction. Then with an almost painful tug shifted away from the path. The spark, no longer content to be lead, now dragged her consciousness towards a new goal. She saw a brightness before her and then a shape defined itself. A very humble priest, leaning on a staff, barefooted with a sad expression. He spoke very softly, “Little sister, would you join us? By giving away all that was yours to give you have created…an opportunity, would you tread our path?” She considered carefully for a moment, “You offer me a great honour, I would be pleased to add my footsteps to yours and as long as my duties as a Charismata permits.” The priest smiled held out a hand and grew brighter and brighter, the spark swirled around her until the light became blinding and she closed her eyes shut and flung her arm in front of her face falling backwards.

She awoke slumped against the wall. Back and legs sore from being stuck in such an awkward position. She righted herself and got clumsily to her feet. The grass felt cool between her toes, she looked around for her shoes, she was positive that she had worn them and just as sure she hadn’t removed them before beginning her meditation. Checking carefully she realized they were gone and that her face stung. Raising a hand to her cheek she felt the heat and knew she was sunburned. She sighed, really, as she thought to herself, one sign was enough Melandihim, did you really have to take my shoes?