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Kajira woke on a fine morning, the sort of morning that just felt right, the sort of morning that you could pour into a cup and drink. The sun was shifting into the loft over her parents room where she slept. It crept into the loft through like a welcomed pet, sneaking against the skin and snuggling up all warm and wonderful.

Kajira was a little girl, only eight, but contained wisdom far beyond her years. She could talk to animals, just as any child can. She can carry on conversations with any beast that comes close to her and chatter and chitter away with cats and kittens and dogs and bears and goats and .. well.. just any animal that crawls, slithers, walks, bounces or flies. She played with dolls and held tea parties and sang songs that made no sense to her parents and was a wonderfully normal little girl.

Except for one thing. It was a small thing, but it was important. Important enough that her entire family knew it about her. Important enough that her name was well known in the Village of Shopkeepers. Important enough that now, she was known by a dragon, who she had befriended. And here was what was the one thing. When she talked to animals, when she chittered and chattered with cats and kittens and dogs and bears and goats and, yes, even dragons.. she held conversations. The cats and kittens and dogs and bears and goats and, yes, even dragons, well, they talked right back. Kajira could understand them, and they could understand her. She had done so many times, and it was this talent of hers, this oddity of hers, this one important thing about her, that enabled her to find out where the hurt was, where the ticklespot was, what made beasts angry or happy or sad.

The villagers brought their animals to her to be helped or healed or talked to or just sat with, and Kajira did it all, happily, because.. well.. because that's what she did. Her one thing was important because she was able to talk to and heal the King of Dragons, Gladure, and in doing so, she had made a friend of the great beast.

It was on this one wonderful morning, where the sunlight was shining warm and sweet and thick through the loft window that a chitter bird came to visit her. She called it a chitter bird because that's what it did. It would sit on the ledge of the window, all red and blue and cocky and chitter at her. Kajira would sit and listen to the never ending stories from the chitter bird and laugh. She could never get a word in edgewise, sidewise, topwise or bottomwise, but she loved to hear the stories anyway.

It was on this one wonderful morning that the chitter bird brought her just one story. It was the story of a black ship, filled with deadly dangerous men. It was the story of death and Deth and pain and hurt.

"Girl! Girl!", the chitter bird chittered. "Deth! Death comes! Must run, must hide!" The chitter bird was an excitable bird, and treated even the most simple things as dire emergencies. It danced back and forth upon the window sill, snipping and snapping at bugs and sunbeams. "Girl! Girl!" it cawed like a crow, which it wasn't like even a little bit.

"Chitter, please slow down", Kajira pleaded. "What are you talking about? Death? Death coming? What do you mean?"

"Girl! Death comes on the river! Evil men, evil men come on the river." The chitter bird flew away from the sill, and landed again. "Girl, must run, must hide!"

"Evil men, not likely, Chitter. To you, anyone that does not feed you is evil." Kajira was putting on her shirt and shoes. "To you, anyone that does not give you a shiney thing is evil. Death indeed."

"I'm afraid the lunch is right, girl", said the cat. "The mice and dogs and other cats have been talking about it all morning. There is a ship coming down the river, and from what I hear, it contains pirates, which are a very bad sort of man. This sort of man is like a mad wolf, who tears and rends with claws and teeth even it's own kind. The bird is right. You should take your family and run."

"Run where, cat?", Kajira asked. She was beginning to become just a bit frightened, because the cat is one of the wisest animals there is. They just act like they don't know anything at times because if people knew what they knew, cats would have no time for play. No time at all. And Play, as any cat will tell you, is what life is all about.

"Well.. if I was you, and I'm not, but I'd advise you anyway, I would go up the mountain and find that dragon you talked to for so long, completely ignoring me." The cat just sat there and proceeded to clean itself. Just as it lifted it's rear paw, it stopped, looked at Kajira and asked "Would you turn your head, please? It's rather impolite to watch while I bathe, you know."

"Oh!", said Kajira, blushing, "I'm very very sorry, cat"

"No harm done, girl. One can't expect humans to be civilized, you know. But if I was you, I'd go now, and run. The pirates will be here very shortly, within a just a few days. Go to the dragon." And with that, it continued to clean itself and wouldn't say another word.

"Girl! Girl! Follow me!" and the chitter bird took of into the blue sky.

Kajira left that morning. She bid her parents farwell while they slept, packed a small bit of food for the trip (she knew she could get more food from the berries and nuts and what meat was brought to her by the animals she would ask). She wrote a note telling where she was going, and why. Her letters were neat and precise, as she was, after all, eight years old. She knew the trip may be a bit dangerous. She had been close to the edge of the Darkling woods, and she knew of the swamp on the other side. It made her a bit nervous to think of these things, as rightly it should, but she was determined that she would make it.

So off she went into the bright early morning sun.

*StoryTeller's note* It's very late, loved ones. I'm in need of my rest and my tumbly does not feel it's best. Never fear. The story is still unfolding and I'll be back tomorrow to tell the rest of this part of the tale. Kajira is a very brave little girl, and as we've already seen, she will make it to the cave of her friend. Good night, and gentle dreams.

And so she went out into the morning sun. Beloveds, Kajira has received word from her friend the chitterbird that pirates were on the way, and the entire Village was in danger. Cat, Kajira's companion (cats are never pets, and at best merely tolerate humans), told her to go to the mountains and seek the King of Dragons, Gladure. And that is what she did.

Out into the morning sun, she went and high in the sky Chitter flew to guide her on her path. The air was sweet and the sunshine was bright and Kajira took in great big gulps of both. She could feel life flowing through her, like a fire in her blood, filling her with the magic was specially hers and hers alone. She felt like she could do anything, anything at all, even jump to the moon, if the moon was out.

She was a bit nervous, though. She had never taken such a trip by herself, and she had heard stories, dark and foreboding, strange and mysterious, of the Darkling Wood, and there were tales of the swamp on the other side of the Wood, though very few, as not many folks wandered that far, and those that did came back a bit.. changed. Kajira wondered if it would change her, and if so, how so.

But on she walked, through the sweet day, tasting the scent of flowers on the air, and feeling the voices of all the living things in the valley. The voices were nervous too, because they could feel something coming, something dark and dangerous. Some of the voices, of course, were not concerned. Earthworms continued to think their own quiet thoughts of dirt and dirt and dirt. Many of the insects were just concerned with eating and flowers and breezes and winds and water. Bunnies and dogs and cattle and other beasts, larger than earthworms and insects were concerned. Many of them had heard of the coming ship, and many of them remembered days of bad men and women, wielding cruel clubs or stinging straps. All of them knew of Kajira, and urged her to hurry, as the tale of her going to see Gladure had quickly spread from cat to dog to bird to cow and to all the other animals of the Village.

She walked the miles to the edge of the wood easily, chatting with all the animals that came to ask her questions and give her encouragement. The sun rose high into the sky and the sweetness that had been her farm and little village was left behind. She could smell a musky, woody smell, a mixture of wet wood and dry wood, of leaf and stone on the breeze and she could see the misty outlines of the Darkling Wood ahead of her, not very far off, and coming closer with every step.

Kajira could feel the hurry, hurry from Chitter as the bird flew overhead, sometimes dipping down and landing on the grass near her and then just as quickly flitting away into the air.

Trying to get the bird to speak with her was next to impossible, what with the comings and goings, the flitting and flying. She had no time at all to stop and speak with the other animals she could feel around her, much as she may have wanted to. The feeling of dread all around her was pushing her to make all speed to get to the mountain home of Gladure and ask for his help. Even so, she would have dearly loved to have a companion to speak to during the trip, as a good companion makes all the difference between a very long trip and a very long enjoyable trip.

At the border of the Darkling woods, she stopped. Chitter flew down and landed beside her, anxious to go, go, go. Birds do not fear the Darkling woods, apparently, as they can fly high above it.

"Chitter, I can hear sounds and voices from the Wood," Kajira said, "but I can't quite make out what they are saying. I must say, though I hate to admit it, it frightens me just a bit to enter these woods"

"Girl! Girl!" cried Chitter. "No fear. Mad animals. But you, no fear. They fear, they do. They fear, fear you!"

Kajira raised her eyebrows at this. She had never in her life had an animal that was afraid of her. The idea was so novel, so unusual, that it made her chuckle. "Afraid of me? Chitter, they don't even know me. How could they be afraid of me?"

"Girl!" Chitter cried with a bit of disaprovement in it's caw. "Man! Man frightens. Man kills. Animals in the wood. Are special."

Chitter flew up and came back down, agitated. "Man is the beast here. Kills what he doesn't understand".

Kajira, taken aback, a bit ashamed at her own arrogance, apologized. "Yes, Chitter. I'm aware of the madness of man. Well do I know it, as I have spent most of my life fixing the damage that my fellow humans did. Well do I know it, and so I do humbly apologize. I should have known better."

"Indeed you should have, Kajira." came a voice at her ankles. It was so surprising to have a voice down so low where she didn't expect it that she jumped, startling Chitter. It was Cat, of course, following her and then catching up with her while she had her conversation with Chitter. "It is well known that man is the cruelest beast of all, often hurting all in his path just to get what he wants. So it is with the pirates, but even more so. This is why we must hurry. Put me on your shoulder. My feet are tired."

Kajira picked Cat up and put him on her shoulders, draping him around her neck like a fluffy collar. "You see, the Darkling Wood is a place of madness. Years ago when the valley was first formed, all sorts of magic got loose and the animals that lived here were affected by the magic, and it changed them. Some became more than they were, and some became less than they were. Sometimes the changes were very great, and sometimes the changes were very small. Regardless, it's important that we need to get to the Dragon quickly, so let's proceed, and do not stop no matter what you see. There is a path there over to your right. Take that one, and it's the shortest course through the wood."

Kajira was amazed! "Why Cat," she exclaimed, “how is it that you know so much about the Wood?"

Cat stretched lazily on her shoulders "Did you think I just sat in the sun all day, playing with sunbeams and being just a house cat? Ha!. I spend my days roaming the country, and I spend my nights listening. I'm not some bird brain that just takes wing and flies around and does nothing."

Chitter bristled and fluffed his feathers at this "Cat! Cat!", he cawed. "I know more than you think. I just don't preen and prance and fill my belly. I fly and see, and fly and look."

Kajira was astounded! "Chitter, dear,", she said, "you don't sound like yourself at all."

Cat looked nonplussed, as if he had never seen a plussed in his life. "Kajira, just because animals can talk a certain way does not mean they are limited to that way. Enormous of variety, tremendous number of flavors. Even humans talk one way to some folks and another way to other folks. Do not be so surprised."

Kajira looked thoughtful. 'It does make sense', she thought. 'I do speak to mother different than I do to father, and I speak to all the animals far differently than I speak to either of them' "All right. I can certainly understand that", she said out loud. "So, Chitter, you've been able to speak full sentences all this time and never have?"

"Of course. I just choose not to, as it's too much trouble. I mean, look at me. I don't have the lung capacity for such a thing, do I now? It takes a lot of breath to make full sentences, so I don't." He grabbed a bug off a leaf and leapt into the air. "And don't ask me to, either!" he said around a mouthful.

"Stupid bird", said Cat.

"Let's move on, shall we?" Said Kajira, crossing over to the path that Cat had pointed out. As she moved from light to shadow, from field to forest, she noticed the difference in sound, in texture, in smell, in light and sight.

The Darkling Wood is a strange place with twisty trees and hidden things that go bump in the night and go bump in the day too. It would be easy to get lost in this place of shadow and light, with paths that go round and round and round, and sometimes no where at all. There were quick noises of animals that Kajira wanted to stop and investigate, being the curious girl she is, but Cat urged her on, and Chitter urged her to "Run Girl! Run!"

Quickly she moved through tree and leaf, grass and flower, and only stopped once to pick a bright red blossom that she tucked back in her little pack. Cat sneezed and wanted to know why she would do such a thing. "It's a present, of course. For Gladure" Hmph, hmphed the cat, who curled up around her neck.

"Let me know if anything interesting happens. I'm going to sleep", said Cat.

Nothing exciting happened, but to Kajira, it was all interesting. She wanted to stop and look and poke and see and touch and smell and talk.. but Cat just kept prodding her along, and Chitter just kept urging her to 'Run!'

she eventually crossed the little stream that eventually fed the forked river and was the border between the Darkling Wood and the swamp.

The swamp, while far less colorful, was still quite the adventure for Kajira. The swamp was just that. A small marshy place between mountain and forest where the winter snows flowed after melting. It was full of greenish frogs and marshy bogs and moldy logs. It was full of swampy smells, and swampy feels, and swampy water. It was, without a doubt, a swamp. And Kajira loved it as much as she loved anything, which was quite a bit.

Crossing the swamp was an easy task, with Chitter flying over head to warn where the really soft ground was, and Kajira found her self at the base of the mountain very quickly. Night, however had started to fall, soft as kitty feet and the light had faded to the point where Cat's eyes were showing the shining green of cat's eyes at night.

"It's time for bed, Cat." Kajira said. She lifted cat off her shoulders and placed him on the ground near her. Cat stretched and said, "Then it's time to do some hunting, Kajira. I'll be close, and wake you if there is any need."

Kajira took her little pack and arranged it on the ground as a pillow. She pulled her cloak around her to use as a blanket and was soon fast, fast, fast asleep.

Tomorrow, beloveds, we shall climb the mountain with Kajira and see what we shall see!

We had just finished the climb, beloved readers. Night was not far off, and Kajira and Galdure had a tearful and joyful reunion. Kajira had, as companions, Chitter, a bird that does not really do much more than fly around and talk, but then... he is a bird, and flying and talking is what birds do best, and Cat, a slightly arrogant cat, who learned might have learned a lesson about himself.

"Pirates!", said Gladure. "Pirates in the valley? Why, that has not happened in the last hundred years or so. Are you sure?" He was agitated, as all could see. Little puffs of steam were coming from his nose, an his eyes shone with a bit of light that had not been there a few moments before. The joy at seeing his friend almost seemed to be swallowed by his dismay at the idea there were pirates still about.

Night had started to fall, and the travelers were very tired. Still and all, Gladure and Kajira talked way, way after the stars came out and looked down on them. Kajira told all she could about the trip, Cat shared what the other animals had told of the Pirates, and Chitter added what he had learned from speaking to crows and eagles and hawks as they saw the black ship sailing down the river.

"I wonder how close they are now", wondered Kajira.

Cat said "If they were moving as swiftly as they seemed to be, there are already there, and causing much mischief"

The talk continued till all were yawning and it was apparent that not much more would be done today. Even Gladure, the great King of Dragons, was yawning, a great dragony yawn, showing all his teeth and great long tongue. It was decided that the group would all start at first light, head down the mountain and ready the villagers for battle.

In the Village itself, the Pirates had already been there, and just as Cat had suggested, had done great mischief. The greatest mischief of all, indeed, for there were three less villagers than there had been, due to the sharpness of the Pirate Captain's swift blade and terrible anger. The Captain's name was Deth, and so, too, was the name of his sword.

Night settled on the Pirate ship as well as the mountain. The pirates had a fruitless search of the village, looking for the lost goods that they had previously stolen from the village. All the flour, jewlery, clothing, all the cakes and breads and meat, all the money and gold they had taken from the village had mysteriously dissapeared off the ship. This did not make the Captain very happy. NOt very happy at all in the least. He killed three
villagers before he started taking answers, and the only answer he got was one he didn't like.

One man, a small inky man with pointed ears, told Deth that everything that his men had stolen had faded with the night, that indeed it had never existed before, and was part of the magic of the village. Deth was not pleased and told his crew to take the inky man below and chain him up in the very hold where the stolen goods had disappeared from.

The night came and went, quiet as it could, so as not to disturb any thing in the Valley. It seemed that the world had come to a stand still, waiting, quite as anything, quiet as nothing, quiet as a sleeping moth. At the dock, the waves lapped silently at the sides of the black ship. The wind had stilled so the sails didn't snap or crack, and the boards on the ship didn't creak or moan. It was as quiet as quiet could be.. it was so quiet even quiet could have slept through it.

The night was unprepared for the day, and when day showed up, night did not even have it's bags packed. It grudgingly moved out of the way, slowly like a man in pain, and the sun fought it's way over the horizon to shine weakly down upon the valley.

The crew came grumbling on deck to do their morning rituals, whatever those may have been. Some sang morning songs in a mourning voice, some cooked, some did other things. All did them quietly, so as not to wake the Captain. They shouldn't have bothered.

"Snark!", came a most unhappy roaring from down in the ships hold. A very loud and distinct clomping came from below and was moving quickly up the stairs. A tall, black, stovepipe hat appeared followed by black hair framing a face that gave black looks to all it glared at.

Deth stepped on deck.

"Snark!" he bellowed. "Where were you, Snark, when the prisoner dissapeared? Where are you now, Snark, when I'm wanting to disembowel someone?"

Snark was, in truth, hiding. He had gone to check on the inky man in the middle of the night, you see. He had some questions to ask, and he just had a feeling, just a small nagging, just a tad, that the inky man could give the answers. So down he went into the hold, a sneaking so as to not make any sounds at all. However, when he got to the bottom step and turned to where the inky man was supposed to be, he was surprised by seeing the inky man fade away, bit by bit, by arm and leg, until there was nothing left. The last thing he saw was the inky man lift his forefinger to his lips and say "Shhhhhhhhhh"

And so, he decided to hide away, hoping the Storm of Deth would pass and life as he knew it would continue. He snuck off the ship in the dark of night, when all on board were asleep. Deth never had anyone watching at night as his ego was sure that no one would ever, ever attempt to board who didn’t belong there. Snark went right to the border of the Village and stopped when he felt his feet tingle. He Knew, with a capital K, that meant he had gone far enough. He turned to his left, and wandered up the little knoll to the single twisted tree. There he lay down and slept. For the first time in a long time, his dreams were free of the beatings, the chasings, the guilt. He slept like an innocent man.

Deth was not in a good mood, he was not happy, not by a long shot. He stomped, he fumed, he yelled and he bellowed. He cut one man in half with is sword and tossed the pieces over the side of the ship, just to see if it would calm his anger. It did not. “Snark!”, He bellowed. “Where are you?” He stomped and cursed and bellowed some more. “Stupid little gimpy brained nobody. Where did he get to?” It never occurred to him that Snark might have simply left. It never occurred to him the possibility that anyone would defy him and just walk away. It was inconceivable that anyone would have the courage to turn their backs on him, Deth, the meanest, blackest, hardest Pirate of all Pirates that ever existed.

“Gather up all the villagers! Bring them here! Bring them to the docks, tie them up, and get your swords at the ready, Lads. Today we take this place and burn it down to the ground, and you can mark my words on that, that you can. Mark my words.”

And so it was done. The crew left the ship and gathered every villager they could find, which was not hard, as the villagers had not moved very far from where they were found the last time. The men were roughly tied and dumped on the dock, without so much as a how do you do, or a by your leave.

Deth stomped and huffed and growled as he paced back and forth before the villagers. “I have had just about enough of this!”, he bellowed. “I will not put up with this sort of thing for very much longer, and mark my word on that. I would kill each and every one of you if I though it would do any good, but I know it won’t because you are all just puffs of smoke, aren’t you? You’re all just mirror tricks or my imagination or some sort of dream walking.

“So what I will do, for your amusement, is to set fire to your little village here.” He pointed to five of his crew that were holding lit torches, burning bright. “Those men there are going to throw those torches as hard as they can. I know they can throw very far as I’ve had them practicing all morning, and I have picked my five best throwers. Deary dear me, they can throw far and, mark my words, they can throw far enough to reach any number of the little shops in your little village that you hold so dear.”

None of the villagers batted an eye, none of them twitched a muscle, none of them even showed that they had heard him at all. This did not please Deth, not one bit, not one tussle. He looked over at his crew and gave the order to throw the torches.

The five men took the torches and heaved them high into the air, sailing, sailing, sailing far over the border of the Village, where the torches turned into white birds and flew away.

Captain Deth stood and stared. He stood frozen like a statue, motionless with mouth open and eyes wide. He didn’t seem to breath, he certainly didn’t blink, and it was never really sure if any blood at all pumped through his heart right then, but then, no one was sure he even had one at all.

Very slowly, a vein started to beat out a drumbeat on his forehead. Very slowly his mouth began to close. Very, very slowly he blinked. Once, twice, and then he took a very deep breath. His hands clenched into fists, once, twice. He turned very slowly to where the villagers were tied on the docks and said in a voice so tight you could not even see light through it, it was so tense that every bow wished it could be strung with it, it was so narrow that it could fit through the smallest pinhole made by the smallest pin. “Kill them all”, he said.



We leave the story here, beloveds. It's not quite done, and the bad part isn't quite over, but in time all will wash out, like stains from last nights chocolate.