The lake of Souls - forest night
A fantasy tale from a time when humans were VERY young
Forest Night
The wind howled outside our shelter as if it was singing praise to Grandfather’s tale. I watched as he moved about and gathered more wood for the fire that was now almost glowing embers.
As he threw the kindling and limbs on the fire it rose up; hissing and crackling for some of the wood was damp. He sat down again, gracefully for his age, and I was reminded of the great cat we were speaking of. He pulled his skins over his shoulders and leaned forward to warm his hands in the hissing sparking fire.
Then with a satisfied sigh he leaned back, crossed his hands in his lap and readied himself to continue with the story.
There was strange and disturbing darkness this night that colors the lake with rivulets of gray and blue; as if the clouds were of a storm of discontent. The trees sigh in a song of beckoning peace that goes unheard on the cougar’s ears.
Shadows of the night dance across the forest floor. Silent paths stir occasionally with the scurry of nocturnal wanderers. The hum of insects is carried to the heights of the trees, as the still, warm air over the lake, wavers in the soft light of the moon.
His eyes blazed in the dim light, while the memory of the shrill cry of the eagle calls him gently to the lake. Yet his throat roars in the song of his fearful malcontent, as anger burns a ferocious fire in the caverns of his soul. His heart beckons him to the lake but fear turns his head from the eagle’s sharp eyes.
An owl sits nearby, her eyes reaching out into the darkness, looking for a careless wanderer on the path below. Her eyes turn to the eagle to watch her look longingly at the floor in her sleeplessness. He comes. Strolling down the old path so quietly amid the song of the night insects. The trees shudder in a breath of wind, as if to herald his nearness to his companion, and the lake. Stirring once again from fitful sleep, the eagle looked out into the darkness with growing awareness, then turned to meet the gaze of the owl. They watched each other for so long it seems. The trees shudder restlessly again, as the horizon is flooded with the glow of lightning.
Only the rumbling wake of thunder breaks their study of each other, and they both look down at the cougar; his coat gleaming in the moonlit moist air; and he is still, as if a veil of calm has descended over him.
Both keepers of this lofty domain know that this rigid pose does little to disguise the powerful strength, and unchecked rage of this beast. His anger resonates through the trees and out across the still waters, resounding as an alarm to the eagle’s ear. The canopy below her is dense and hides this cougar from her keen sight as she dives below it; twisting and winding her way through the branches until she is clear of them; gliding now; barely skimming the underbrush, her eyes watching every shadow.
Sudden movement grazes her unerring senses and she responds with boldness unchecked. The great cougar is caught unaware as she dives toward him…she has always stayed above the canopies of the trees. He tenses his body and he raises his head in anger at the intrusion. The rumble that escapes him shakes the very trees and brush. His eyes greet her in indignant defiance…her wings balancing her and keep her from him, she hovers awkwardly above him, but she will not give up.
“Why do you come in the night you foolish eagle,” Tahoma demanded arrogantly, “do you see not the anger in my eyes for I am hungry and thirst for that which comes to your talons over the lake of souls!”
Onawa the eagle, fluttered still above and out of reach.
“I will not be gone that easily oh large and powerful beast…you do not frighten me with your threats!”
A cry of pain escaped from the very soul of the cougar and his eyes flashed so angrily at the eagle that she withdrew from her approach. And with sadness she could not understand, she returned with heavy heart to her lofty branches.
As if known always between them, the eagle looks once again at the owl, and she responds by lifting herself from her branch. Her magnificent wings spread to test the air, and leaning forward almost as if to fall, she parts from the branch so slowly as if to be still in time for a moment. With a stroke of her wings she begins a silent graceful passage through the air.
The cougar, intent on his own thoughts, hears and knows nothing of Waki, the owl as she approaches him from behind. The eagle watches as Waki, like a shadowy ghost, glides through the trees. The wanderers of the floor, unaware of a threat, ignore the motionless cougar; and for a moment even the trees halt their random chatter as another flash of not too distant lightning illuminates the owl in time for all to see her glide past the head of the cougar; to slap his ear with the tip of her wing.
Then without concern, she brings her talons to bear, to snatch up a careless traveler from the forest floor. Her ascent is punctuated by the surprised convulsions of the cougar. His claws instantly present themselves, as his lips draw back across his teeth, his body crouches; his powerful legs twitch and stiffen in readiness to attack. From deep within a rumble of impatient anger meets the air, to be echoed moments later, by a roll of thunder. His eyes blaze in the darkness, his teeth slowly bare themselves from behind his lips; his tail and claws twitch and sway, as if the guardians of readiness to kill; his instinctive role. Aware now of the owl, and the cry of the cougar, the floor of the forest ripples with the scurrying of the small creatures into the protective dark shadows.
“Who are you that you deny yourself this night my dear Tahoma?” the owl calmly chewed on her prey and studied the cougar nonchalantly waiting for a response.
“I have no need of company or attention from the likes of you!” Tahoma growled impatiently at this indifferent keeper of her lofty domain.
“Ah, but you do my angry companion,” she muttered. “You come from the shadows and we call your name, for from you we see your pain, and yet you will not bring us the shredded waste of your rage, that we might cast it to lake and have the deep waters quench your torment.”
The cougar snarled as his jaw shuddered with anger at the words of the owl.
“I have turned with heavy wing as has the eagle” the owl continued, “as has Sibeta; your loving friend walked with heavy heart; and we see the contours of your face that scribe the darkness of the domain of your crying soul my cougar,” the owl persisted.
“We call out to you my cougar, and speak with you, and tell you of our day and night. Yet from you there is nothing changed! Your face spreads to smile but in its glow is the aura of death, as the fire in your soul is nothing but an ember. All we see is the lifeless indifference of the frozen lake.”
Tahoma stood firm, his tail swishing slowly, his glaring eyes burning brightly.
“What we would we give, oh handsome cougar,” Waki sighed, “for the touch of your embrace…the comfort of your soft and gentle paws and the smooth soft carpet of your fur. Why is there not the profound energy of your passion that you so boldly hide from us? Why do we have to stand distant from you and watch the shadows grow longer…your soul darker!”
Slowly his eyes cooled from their glow, his ears came forward; his lips drew a curtain across his defiant grimacing teeth. His powerful claws retracted now, he turned amidst the fingers of dawn flickering at him, as if the trees would speak to him; and began to walk away. Uncertain, the owl and the eagle glide in tight circles above him, silently swooping over him, as if wanting to take his heart in their talons and warm it at their breast.
The thick growth parts once again to the ancient path the cougar knows so well.
The trees begin to stir and sing their heralding song as the wind begins to stretch out in front of the rains that will come on the storm, yet behind the curtain of the mountains. The calm warm stillness of the night is broken now, as the opposite horizon presents a faint steady glow in contrast to the approaching anger of the storm. The dawn is carving out is presence in the eastern sky. The owl retreats on high and devours the last of her meal, and watches again as the eagle stirs restlessly on her lofty branch. The cougar tried to wander indifferently toward the lake and the fallen log. But the owl knew; that with the arrival of a storm to invade the stillness of a new day with its brief passage; the eagle would seek comfort and communion in the company of her temperamental friend.
I looked at my grandfather, and he seemed distant from the warm and dark shelter of the cave, almost as if he was out there in that forest by the lake.
A single tear rolled slowly across his face and I asked if he was tired.
“Yes boy, I am tired this night, we will finish this story the next night.” And with a loud sigh, he appeared almost to sink into the sand of the floor of the cave with his great bulk.
The wind howled outside, and the storm seemed relentless now. I sat and watched the fire as it crackled and hissed its dying breath. I wondered what made Tahoma so angry, why he hated his companions so, as they appeared to be very fond of him. I looked over at grandfather one more time as if to hope that he would sit up and continue with his story. But he lay very still now, and as I wrapped my skins about me and drifted into restless slumber, I could hear the percussive rhythm of grandfathers deep and dreamless sleep.
izzybeth 29 days ago
Your writing is magical. I want to see more.
Ian Kahler 28 days ago
Thank you izzybeth… very kind of you to notice and read.
I will find other chapters for you