Smoldering Reverie sat quietly in a small patch of leaf-dappled moonlight, something in the moon was telling her to stay awake, and so she did, in the cool moonlight that made her think of the ashes that settled across the land in the wake of a fire. Partially sunken into the waters of the swamp, Will Burn Again was settled nearby while Ember perched on slightly less boggy ground. Next to her, pressed comfortably to her side was Walking on Fire, a calm, warm presence. As she contemplated the moon, a long lost dream, perhaps of a story that she had heard long ago before she had the use of her eyes or even her ears had fully opened. She had heard whispers of it in the wind and though the whole story was lost to her, she had at least one part of it.
Turning to Will Burn Again, Ember stared at the caiman for a long moment before a half-smile that softened her already gentle eyes came into being on her face. Leaning forward, her nose met his as he lifted up to complete the simple touch. Sinking down again, Imminent glided a little closer to his master and companion before stopping into silence again.
Looking up at the moon then at her two companions, one strange and intense the other imminently kind and loyal, Ember spoke softly into the night, “I’ll tell a story tonight then.”
Perhaps other kin would hear her whispers on the wind and they too would have a part of the story.
“A long time ago in a time when things were very different from how they were now, there was buck, black as the darkest, moonless night, who was named Black Dog. He was ferocious, and for hunting, running, fighting, and beauty, none could match him.”
“In those times, during which Black Dog ran and fought, stories where horrid, ferocious wild beasts with sharp claws and terrible fangs. They were frightening creatures that growled and roared, keeping to themselves the secrets they carried, never letting kin hear their contents,” at that, Ember paused because Imminent let out a growl, rather appropriate, but she was careful anyways of some unknown predator, but when he settled down, seemingly at ease, she knew that it was safe and so she continued.
“The stories intimidated the kin and kept them far away, but brave Black Dog was not one to let even the most ferocious wild beast to hurt his kind and so, he attacked, he fought back. It was then, in his fearsome campaign against the terror of the wild stories that he found that you could defeat them, that you could tame stories have them spill their secret tales to you and once they were tamed, all kin could enjoy in the story’s wonder.”
“Though he was strong and fierce, sometimes it too great chasing and shaking to contain a story. Along the way, some stories become torn and broken, shaken up or some parts misplaced, and that is why some stories, memories, and dreams come to us in fragments with some parts out of order or make very little sense. Even so, the stories that Black Dog tamed were met with great joy fore stories can let one experience what one has never been able to experience before.”
“Soon all the stories were tamed except one. That one ran farther and faster and hid better than all the ones that before it and though Black Dog was good and running and finding, the story eluded him for five years. In those five years, Black nipped at the heels of the story many times, but time and time again the story got away.”
“It was by luck one day that as the story grazed and rested that Black Dog snuck up on the story and jumped on it. They battled long and hard, but Black Dog was able to defeat the story and pinned it down to the ground. He demanded to know the secrets that it held, but it wasn’t until after a many day wait with more shaking and fighting that the story final spilled its story to Black Dog. It spoke quietly at first, telling its story.”
“And so it went: A long time ago in a time when things were very different from how they were now, there was buck, black as the darkest, moonless night, who was named Black Dog…”
Will Burn Again watched Ember quietly before sinking into the water, he reappeared some lengths away and following him, Smoldering Reverie picked herself up and leaped from patch to patch of solid ground, Walking on Fire close on her heels, whispering softly as she did, “And so it went, on and on, the story told through and through.”