She lived a very long time ago, when fire and words were man’s best tricks and the stars were still the brightest lights in the night. It was a very remote place, up in the trackless north country where the snow began after the colors changed and didn’t end until the spring rains. The winters were long and hushed by the heavy snowfall, so there was plenty of time to think and to dream. Summers were brief but clear and warm, so there was a nice stretch of hospitable weather for exploring or just lazing among the wild flowers under the gentle sun.
The little house where she was born was built of log and mud from the deep green forest and the banks of the noisy brook at their back door. The forest circled round their house like castle walls with sharp sentries standing guard on top among the fancy spires and the falcons. That’s how she thought of the woods. The trees were her subjects as well as her castle and she their princess. They protected her and she in her turn loved them dearly.
She began her reign in the forest as soon as she learned to stand on her two chubby legs instead of simply crawling about on all fours. Her first steps were unsure but took her right to the edge of the trees and when she fell that first time, the sweet moss-covered roots of a gray bearded grandfather tree lent her his soft knees to save her from a hard fall.
She knew every citizen of her kingdom and held a thought of each of them in her mind. She knew them all from the tiniest buzzing ones to the tallest tree, from the little mice who had some secret realm of their own under the house to the placid elk that came to nibble the tender young grass of the small yard around the house. She sometimes managed to save an apple or carrot for the elk and boldly approached them with her gift which they humbly and gratefully accepted.
One may wonder how she got on so well with animals and trees, being after all a human child, and rightly so. It was her special gift. For in fact, she could do more than simply think about her subjects, she could hear their thoughts whenever she focused her mind on any one of them. She knew the thoughts of the very tallest trees, the tiniest mice, even the rustling grass beneath her feet. She knew them all and they knew her. So far as she could remember, it was ever so.
So it was that she felt especially generous towards all of her subjects, never hesitating to grant them fiefdoms. And she never requested a tribute for such favors other than a shy nod of acknowledgement now and again. So generous was she, that she was perfectly content to allow the mice their own kingdom under her very roof.
She heard the elk as they grazed, “Wolf, where? Far enough. Mmmm. Grass, sweet grass. Man, where? Far enough.” She heard the trees, “Sunshine, a little rain, the cool breeze to dust our leaves, and a little shade for the saplings just starting out.” The tree thoughts were more like music to her mind, soothing and cheerful. The squirrels in spring and summer thought only of play, games of tag, and daring leaps from branch to branch but in the fall she heard them everywhere, “Gather and store, store and gather,” all day long every day until it was really quite tiresome.
Now all good gifts come with a price, or so they say. The child’s gift was sadly no exception to that old saw. Simply said, people are the only living creatures on the planet who use words and she had none at all.
In all the world, words are one of the strangest creations, exotic and unnatural. A very long time ago, a human animal decided for whatever odd reason such decisions are made, to begin uttering sounds that would represent other things. For another odd reason, his idea became popular with the other human animals. This was the origin of what we call language and also abstract thinking at the same time. Humans took up residence then on a very different planet, a lonely planet removed from the thoughts of nature. A planet where we had only ourselves for conversation.
While humans were busy making a new world of their own, separated from the old one only by language, the plants and animals of the old world kept right on thinking just as they had always done since the world was made. Their thoughts kept right on flowing freely, to one another and through every single thing, even through the humans now deaf to the old way. The owl hears the tree, the tree hears the grass, the grass hears the elk, and the elk hears the owl. This is the way of nature. Animals and plants think in what humans would call “pictures” and the pictures in their minds are all about what they are doing or seeing.
Now the princess, unlike other children, heard these thoughts of the old world, because she not only heard their thoughts, but thought in exactly the same way herself. Somehow, she had escaped from the human world into the old world and the price she paid was the gift of human speech. She understood not a word. Her parents quite reasonably assumed that their poor child was both deaf and mute. They prayed for her, accepted that nothing could be done for her, and went on about their life. They spoke to her only little, expecting no response, and began to think of her more as a pet than a child. They were very kind to her naturally and they did such things as celebrate her birthday every year but they had no hopes for her.
One winter when she was just turned four, the mama and papa decided the little princess could climb as well as any bear cub. She could easily scramble up the shelves to the very top when she wanted to help herself to one of the sweet things the mama kept out of her reach. She could climb into most of the trees near the house too all by herself. The papa said to the mama that they probably would all be more comfortable if the crib were removed from the main room and the little princess moved up to the loft.
She’d never guessed that there was anything up over their heads. The papa brought in a sturdy ladder, raised it into the rafters, then disappeared with his saw, his hammer, and a tin bucket full of nails into the darkness. Shortly there was the heavy thud, thud, thud of hammer on nail, and the swooshing bite of saw on timber. Now and again, he’d call out to the mama for this and that then the mama would disappear into the darkness too.
After awhile, the papa went out to the lean-to and brought back a small bed tick. The mama took the ticking up the ladder along with the whiskbroom and a small flat bit of board she used when cleaning the floors. A sound followed of furious sweeping then a soft shoveling sound. The entire cabin was bathed in the soothing scents of cedar and pine. Finally, the mama descended again with broom and board in hand, her clothes and face coated with sawdust.
The sunlight was just going cold and gray in the big room when the mama said that the surprise was ready and she produced a small square of white cake from one of her mysterious larders. The girl was amazed by the mama’s ability to pour items into a bowl, stick the contents into a pan then onto a grate in the fire and then like some marvelous miracle hand her something sweet and delicious to eat.
The mama and papa began to sing “Happy Birthday” to her but of course, she neither understood what singing was nor the words. What she did understand was that the white cake was for her and that their howling was some sort of tribute to her.
She ate her cake with enthusiasm, scooping largish hunks up in her small hands. She devoured the unexpected delicacy, not a little indelicately, as she shoved the hunks into her mouth with both hands, carefully licking every speck from her fingers as she went. Then the papa brought out the small oil lamp and lit it. He picked the little girl up then set her feet on the rungs of the ladder and carefully curled her little fingers around the rails. She eagerly climbed the rungs with him carrying the light just behind.
When her wide eyes beheld the little room at the top, she thought that the papa and mama must have magical powers of their own. The thought had never occurred to her before that she must have gotten her special talents from these humble people. The room was the best magic she could have imagined. Here was a tower room worthy of the genuine princess that she truly was. Indeed, worthy of her beautiful kingdom.
A little bedstead just her size was all dressed up with snowy white sheets topped in blue checked gingham and placed along the back wall. Just under the peak of the roof, a bright little window held the silver full moon and a few stars over the center of the bed like a crown. There was a little dolly propped up on one end against a small soft pillow. She was so delighted she clapped her hands together and very nearly fell backwards on the papa who deftly caught her in one large paw.
Chapter Two
The little house where she was born was built of log and mud from the deep green forest and the banks of the noisy brook at their back door. The forest circled round their house like castle walls with sharp sentries standing guard on top among the fancy spires and the falcons. That’s how she thought of the woods. The trees were her subjects as well as her castle and she their princess. They protected her and she in her turn loved them dearly.
She began her reign in the forest as soon as she learned to stand on her two chubby legs instead of simply crawling about on all fours. Her first steps were unsure but took her right to the edge of the trees and when she fell that first time, the sweet moss-covered roots of a gray bearded grandfather tree lent her his soft knees to save her from a hard fall.
She knew every citizen of her kingdom and held a thought of each of them in her mind. She knew them all from the tiniest buzzing ones to the tallest tree, from the little mice who had some secret realm of their own under the house to the placid elk that came to nibble the tender young grass of the small yard around the house. She sometimes managed to save an apple or carrot for the elk and boldly approached them with her gift which they humbly and gratefully accepted.
One may wonder how she got on so well with animals and trees, being after all a human child, and rightly so. It was her special gift. For in fact, she could do more than simply think about her subjects, she could hear their thoughts whenever she focused her mind on any one of them. She knew the thoughts of the very tallest trees, the tiniest mice, even the rustling grass beneath her feet. She knew them all and they knew her. So far as she could remember, it was ever so.
So it was that she felt especially generous towards all of her subjects, never hesitating to grant them fiefdoms. And she never requested a tribute for such favors other than a shy nod of acknowledgement now and again. So generous was she, that she was perfectly content to allow the mice their own kingdom under her very roof.
She heard the elk as they grazed, “Wolf, where? Far enough. Mmmm. Grass, sweet grass. Man, where? Far enough.” She heard the trees, “Sunshine, a little rain, the cool breeze to dust our leaves, and a little shade for the saplings just starting out.” The tree thoughts were more like music to her mind, soothing and cheerful. The squirrels in spring and summer thought only of play, games of tag, and daring leaps from branch to branch but in the fall she heard them everywhere, “Gather and store, store and gather,” all day long every day until it was really quite tiresome.
Now all good gifts come with a price, or so they say. The child’s gift was sadly no exception to that old saw. Simply said, people are the only living creatures on the planet who use words and she had none at all.
In all the world, words are one of the strangest creations, exotic and unnatural. A very long time ago, a human animal decided for whatever odd reason such decisions are made, to begin uttering sounds that would represent other things. For another odd reason, his idea became popular with the other human animals. This was the origin of what we call language and also abstract thinking at the same time. Humans took up residence then on a very different planet, a lonely planet removed from the thoughts of nature. A planet where we had only ourselves for conversation.
While humans were busy making a new world of their own, separated from the old one only by language, the plants and animals of the old world kept right on thinking just as they had always done since the world was made. Their thoughts kept right on flowing freely, to one another and through every single thing, even through the humans now deaf to the old way. The owl hears the tree, the tree hears the grass, the grass hears the elk, and the elk hears the owl. This is the way of nature. Animals and plants think in what humans would call “pictures” and the pictures in their minds are all about what they are doing or seeing.
Now the princess, unlike other children, heard these thoughts of the old world, because she not only heard their thoughts, but thought in exactly the same way herself. Somehow, she had escaped from the human world into the old world and the price she paid was the gift of human speech. She understood not a word. Her parents quite reasonably assumed that their poor child was both deaf and mute. They prayed for her, accepted that nothing could be done for her, and went on about their life. They spoke to her only little, expecting no response, and began to think of her more as a pet than a child. They were very kind to her naturally and they did such things as celebrate her birthday every year but they had no hopes for her.
One winter when she was just turned four, the mama and papa decided the little princess could climb as well as any bear cub. She could easily scramble up the shelves to the very top when she wanted to help herself to one of the sweet things the mama kept out of her reach. She could climb into most of the trees near the house too all by herself. The papa said to the mama that they probably would all be more comfortable if the crib were removed from the main room and the little princess moved up to the loft.
She’d never guessed that there was anything up over their heads. The papa brought in a sturdy ladder, raised it into the rafters, then disappeared with his saw, his hammer, and a tin bucket full of nails into the darkness. Shortly there was the heavy thud, thud, thud of hammer on nail, and the swooshing bite of saw on timber. Now and again, he’d call out to the mama for this and that then the mama would disappear into the darkness too.
After awhile, the papa went out to the lean-to and brought back a small bed tick. The mama took the ticking up the ladder along with the whiskbroom and a small flat bit of board she used when cleaning the floors. A sound followed of furious sweeping then a soft shoveling sound. The entire cabin was bathed in the soothing scents of cedar and pine. Finally, the mama descended again with broom and board in hand, her clothes and face coated with sawdust.
The sunlight was just going cold and gray in the big room when the mama said that the surprise was ready and she produced a small square of white cake from one of her mysterious larders. The girl was amazed by the mama’s ability to pour items into a bowl, stick the contents into a pan then onto a grate in the fire and then like some marvelous miracle hand her something sweet and delicious to eat.
The mama and papa began to sing “Happy Birthday” to her but of course, she neither understood what singing was nor the words. What she did understand was that the white cake was for her and that their howling was some sort of tribute to her.
She ate her cake with enthusiasm, scooping largish hunks up in her small hands. She devoured the unexpected delicacy, not a little indelicately, as she shoved the hunks into her mouth with both hands, carefully licking every speck from her fingers as she went. Then the papa brought out the small oil lamp and lit it. He picked the little girl up then set her feet on the rungs of the ladder and carefully curled her little fingers around the rails. She eagerly climbed the rungs with him carrying the light just behind.
When her wide eyes beheld the little room at the top, she thought that the papa and mama must have magical powers of their own. The thought had never occurred to her before that she must have gotten her special talents from these humble people. The room was the best magic she could have imagined. Here was a tower room worthy of the genuine princess that she truly was. Indeed, worthy of her beautiful kingdom.
A little bedstead just her size was all dressed up with snowy white sheets topped in blue checked gingham and placed along the back wall. Just under the peak of the roof, a bright little window held the silver full moon and a few stars over the center of the bed like a crown. There was a little dolly propped up on one end against a small soft pillow. She was so delighted she clapped her hands together and very nearly fell backwards on the papa who deftly caught her in one large paw.
Chapter Two
The Storm
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