The Dancer

He stood up and stretched, his limbs almost seemed to detach from his joints. He stretched his neck from side to side and then looked at me curiously.

“I think it’s best we move away from them.” he said, motioning to the sleeping mother with her young.

He moved away and as he moved I noticed how he seemed to blend in with the grass. There was no jarring motion to him but energy seemed to come out of every limb. There was power there. Then suddenly he began to turn, swiftly, I felt myself getting dizzy as he moved over the ground. I was sure he would take flight, a tornado that would pluck everything in its path and take it with him. Then he deftly stopped, did two cartwheels and then landed in a sitting position in the grass.

“Sorry about that. I’ve been following them for a while and I can only keep my movements quiet for so long.”

“Why have you been following them?”

He stretched one leg out and pulled his other up so he could lean on it.

“I’ve known the doe for a long time. She didn’t always look like that. She was proud and beautiful. She used to fly across the hills, I could barely keep up. The day she brought her fawn to me there was enough light about her that it hurt to look.”

“What happened to her?”

His face turned. It was as if he’d just smelled something horrific.

“I hadn’t seen her for a while and decided to venture a bit out of my glen to find her. I found her fawn first. He was upset and crying. I knew she’d never leave her son and I feared the worst. He took me to her . . .”

He swallowed, hard. I could tell her was trying not to cry.

“She was outside the camp. The one that’s being built outside the city. I barely recognized her. I only knew her when her son cried and she lifted her head slightly to the sound. I almost ran to her and then I saw him.”

“Him?” I heard myself ask, but I knew who it was. It had to be him.

The boy looked at me through slitted eyes. He knew I wasn’t ignorant.

“You spoke to the Woodcarver. Who do you think it was?”

I averted my gaze. A shadow had fallen over my soul.

“What was he doing?”

“Whispering.”

I saw him wince as if he’d just been struck. He rubbed the back of his neck and then stretched his arms above his head.

“I tried to remain as still as possible, but the more he whispered the more pain I saw over her. Her knees were starting to buckle and her head hung so low I thought her neck was broken. She was so beautiful . . .” he looked in the direction of the mother and son, sleeping peacefully in the grass.

“The little one wouldn’t let it go though. He charged. I couldn’t let him go in alone. We both reached them at the same time. I wrapped my arms around her neck, shielding her from something I didn’t understand. I could feel her shuddering in my embrace, but I knew her strength was returning. I looked up at Lesco and he slowly turned and walked back towards his camp. I stayed with her until she was able to walk, but even now she only wanders. Her son cries for her and she gives him no response.”

“Has she gotten any better?”

“I feel the further away from the camp she gets the faster she moves. When she rests and her son is with her something seems to slowly awaken. So now I just follow them and hope that soon she will recognize her son again.”

He wrapped his arms around his knees and locked his gaze towards where I knew the camp was being built.

“It’s strange though, when I met Lesco’s eyes I saw something I didn’t expect.”

“What was that?”

“Sadness.”

I sat with the boy for an hour in silence. I watched as the doe stirred, and shook herself off and began to stumble forward. It may have been just hope but I thought I saw her knees bend a bit as she moved. Her son followed behind her, crying to her softly, but she could not hear.

The boy let them go ahead of him before slowly unfolding himself and following behind them.

Then I heard it.

Humming.