The River to the Sea

A Gloth is a beautiful mystery taking over a thousand years to reach maturity; is what I told Celest this morning before she headed out; as hatchlings, they appear as small leafy sea dragons, in bright blues and greens. Their leafy appendages fan out in a feathery magnum opus that rings in lyrical notes as they fluffle in the night air. This allows their plumage to expel all moisture. As they dry beneath the evening sky, they absorb the colors of the night; once in sync with the sky above, they take to the air. Flying by night or over a storming sea, choosing to bask under the glow of the sun.

Contrary to popular belief, Sea dragons do not eat livestock or their keepers. They derive their strength from the sun and dine on storm clouds. Eating both lightning and thunder. They always chase the night wind hungry for more. So, if it ever seems like the night sky is void of stars, possibly a lumbering sea dragon is overhead surfing the depths of night. 

Milfred is three thousand years young. He has seen most of man's mistakes. He does his best to steer clear of human folk, but he has taken a shine to Celest. He has observed her on more than one occasion and has judged her heart good. I believe she will be able to help him once he comes to terms with his misery. I watch her head upstream on her raft, piercing the fog with her pole. Each stroke moving her forward, and I am hopeful.

"Don't worry. I'll be fine," Celest calls out as she enters the fog blockade.

The tributary hugs tight the foggy breath of morning. Packed thick, it overflows across eddies and hides a bit of white water. Most everyone is entangled in the day's heat. While Celest is glad for her cape as she traverses the sleepy water. Even Wahya snuggles beneath the hem of her cloak.

Flashes of blue and green shadow the raft escorting the travelers. The small fry occasionally darts from the water, sounding like little arrows cutting the air. Each mini flight ends with a splash. If the fog would lift, she could get a better look at her traveling companions.

Celest watches the wolf cub sleep. He looks happy and contented, but then he always does, and always the outcome is the same. His ears begin to twitch. She smiles and pictures him dreaming about a meadow of butterflies, with the cub running in circles, not knowing which one to peruse. However, his dream finds him happily buried beneath a heaping pile of siblings. His mother's rhythmic breathing adds to his contentment. Darkness sweeps across this living memory by a human hand clutching the base of his nape. He springs to all fours, hackled and trembling, with little ears penned.

Celest knows all too well what he dreamed. She leans down to scratch his ears. She rubs the top of his head. His downy fur warm and soft. To ease his stress, she hums that familiar tune. The melody tastes sweet upon his palate, releasing his pangs. He is a wild thing, and possibly in times past, she has held on to him too tightly. This time will be different.

Fear and hate are tightly tethered if she can break this cord, she will have a friend for life. Anger chisels away at the spell, and he doubles in size. At this rate, we will be grown by a forte night. The wind jostles the cape spilling out a splash of enchantment. An intoxicating aroma eases his mind, and he returns to his slumber. 

She looks up at her destination, the mountain ahead. This place is not like her forest home but void of greenery. Black rock springs from the ground nestled beside the river and overshadowed by a larger mountain that casts shade each evening. A slender pathway begins at the shore. It serpentines up the ledge ending at the mouth of a cave. The path is packed with brightly colored pebbles that declare this is the way. 

The path to Milfred's cave ends at the easternmost mountain, where the river culminates into a bay, and the sea takes over beyond the barrier. The journey has taken a good part of the day. Celest and her companion must walk from here. Night has come way too early, and Celest is left to contemplate why?

Author's Note

closer

Reviews

[Coyote Poetry]

Beautiful. A tempting and wonderful chapter shared dear Cherrie. I liked the history shared and the journey in the words. You create a amazing world. Thank you for the outstanding chapter.
Coyote

[Cherrie Palmer]

The grandkids are having fun with it, and me too. I'm glad you were able to enjoy this remixed story.

[Coyote Poetry]

I did enjoy dear Cherrie and hello from Michigan.

[Einstein Noodle]

I have to mention your poetic imaging again..its wonderful says i .."Their leafy appendages fanout in a feathery magnum opus that rings in lyrical notes as they fluffle in the night air." mwahvelous mon cherri! I have seen and read a little about Leafy Sea Dragons of the deep .. great character .. and to give Milfred such a benign heart intrigues me ..and I like how you segue into the next section with something that Celest can help Milfred with .. it really raises questions in me begging answers .. I hope you keep a goin' Cherrie .. love it so far!
E.

[Cherrie Palmer]

I am hoping to add the woodsman to the next chapter. I'm at a 6th grade band competition at the moment. :)

[Einstein Noodle]

What better place to be. My four children all did band ... my youngest didn't continue but switched to Tae Kwon Do throughout the high school years .. kept them busy and what a great foundation it can be to have music and sight reading added to ones life. How did the band do?

[Cherrie Palmer]

These were trios and solos. Peyton got her first blue ribbon. She plays the trombone:)

[Einstein Noodle]

woot woot ... Go Peyton! and she is a trombonist??!! how cool is that for a young lady. :)