Mama's Voice, a short story

The little girl raced through the fields. Her fiery curls danced behind her as she raced, certain that she could catch the elusive flickering lights. She prayed as the chase continued, "Please let me hold one of the lightmakers."


She was grateful that the setting sun was fading into darkness as she entered the forest. The lightmakers flickered even more brightly. She smiled certain that victory was close. Her hands reached a bit further as she lunged for another lightmaker, which again escaped her grasp. She had over-reached. Off balance, she fell to her hands and knees.


"Ouch!" she proclaimed, trying to stand up. Her feet and legs wouldn't cooperate. She tried pushing herself upright, but the pain in her knees forced her back to the cool ground. She breathed deeply and sat down to assess the damage. She rarely fell, but when she did fall, she always hopped right back up.


Tonight, she sat in the glow of the full moon and examined the gashes on her knees. She sighed, "Hmmmm...Mama's gonna be mad."


She inspected the ground, wondering what caused the gashes. Quickly, she saw the bumpy tree root. She nodded.


She could hear Mama's voice in her head, "You shouldn't be running around barefoot. You aren't supposed to be wandering in the forest. It's dark stay close to home."


Again, she nodded and sighed. She laid back, resting her head upon the mossy carpet of the forest. She drank in the moon. She marveled at it's white light and how cool it was compared to the warm sun.


Howling filled the night air. Her ears perked up. The wolves continued howling, occasionally breaking into barking and yipping.


She heard Mama's voice again, "Wolves mean us no harm. We're like our furry neighbors. We travel in packs and look out for the others in our group. They hunt on the fringes of a herd looking for the weaker ones who are less of a struggle. We share the land with them. We share the hunting grounds. We respect them and stay close to the fire. You needn't fear their nightly songs. Sleep now, Little One. You are safe."


She breathed deeply and smiled at the moon.


A twig snapped close to her. She sat up and quickly glanced around. She saw no animal but jumped when she heard the howling begin again.


Her mind began thinking, "I wandered away. I am not near my pack. I have no fire. I am alone. I can not run; I am weak." The thoughts whirled faster like a well-greased roller coaster, whirling around the track endlessly. She shivered in the cold night. Goosebumps covering her arms.


She again tried to stand, but the pain made her knees buckle. She sat down again. Her heart racing. Her breathing shallow. Her ears perked.


The howling began again. Her ears told her that they were even closer. The howling was much louder.


She sat still, wishing she could hear Mama's voice. The blood beat in her ears; she was deaf to everything but the howling. When the howling stopped, she dared to gasp for a bit of air.


Then the wolves were silent. Her tiny frame shook. She laid on her side, too trembly to cry or to move. Her mind too paralyzed to think about anything, except the prayer, "Please don't let them eat me. Please don't let them eat me."


Yipping and barking grew deafening. The pack was moving; she could feel it. She stiffened. The wolves growling; she felt their hunger.


She prayed, "Please don't let them eat me. I don't want to be their meal."


The yipping quieted, but the earth vibrated beneath their racing paws. They were on the trail of their next meal. The running was now coming from too many directions. She shook. The earth trembled. The air was silent. She held her breath.


She felt a rush of air whooshed over her and a screech shattered the air.


The running changed direction.


Again she felt the air whoosh and a piercing screech.


She trembled. Why were the wolves running away? Had someone heard her prayers?


Feeling a warm presence, she blinked her eyes open. She gasped. Staring into her eyes was a white feathery creature. She had never seen the owl-hawk bird that sat an arm's length away from her.


Her eyes merged with the creature's eyes. Her fear melted. Her body relaxed. She was enveloped by peace.


She heard Mama's voice in her ears, "You are safe, My Little One. You are safe."


With the protection of the white owl-hawk, she found the strength to stand. She walked out of the forest and across the fields. She heard voices calling for her and turned to her guide.


Tears blurred her eyes, "Thank you."


Their eyes shared the understanding, the connection.


The guide took flight, hovering in the full moon before disappearing into the night.


She smiled and turned to run into Mama's arms.

Namaste,

L