Stories from Heaven's Library
Vol. 3
For Young and Old
Featuring:
Amaris: Chapters 5 & 6
A Tale of Two Turtles
The Adventures of Little White Hawk: Meeting White Man
AMARIS
The story so far
In a faraway Eastern nation, the young Princess Amaris has embarked on a journey at the request of King Merchal, her adopted father.
When morning breaks, Amaris and Jordan, her most trusted manservant, leave the cave from where, a few hours earlier, the other servants had mysteriously disappeared. They travel to the home of the aged and kindly Father Michael, a trusted friend of King Merchal, and once a private tutor to Amaris.
As they walk, Amaris shares secrets of her past with Jordan--how she was separated from her English parents and sold into slavery, to then be bought by the king. Meanwhile, Jordan is finding himself increasingly attracted to the fair princess he serves.
Together they arrive at the home of Father Michael, who, unbeknownst to them, has been awaiting their arrival. With night swiftly falling, they agree to wait till daybreak to learn from him the reason for their journey
V - Father Michael's Discovery
Despite anxieties over the morrow, the night passed more quickly than Amaris would have hoped. By the time the clatter of Father Michael preparing the morning meal began to penetrate her curtains, Amaris would have much preferred to stay within the warmth of her covers. However, curiosity is a powerful motivator, and Amaris felt herself propelled out into the biting morning cold. Throwing on her garments, she dashed over to the hearth, thrusting her hands out as if to grasp the heat of the roaring fire.
By the time she had recovered feeling in her hands, she noticed that Jordan was there too, and that he was staring at her curiously.
"What's wrong?" she asked, looking down to make sure that she was fully clothed and that some personal piece of undergarment was not protruding.
"It's nothing," Jordan said quickly, trying to tear his gaze away. "It's just that I've never seen you without your headdress on. Your hair it's it's lovely." Jordan stumbled over his words and felt uncomfortable at having settled for such an inadequate adjective. In truth, he would have priced those honey-colored, silken tresses along with the finest rubies and gems of Samarkand.--Nay, even more costly than those, he told himself fiercely. Her locks were as the adornment on an already perfect box of treasures.
"You are right!" Amaris suddenly felt rather naked, realizing that she was without her usual head covering. "But it is such a trouble to have to wear that thing all the time. I hope you will not mind if I leave it off while I am around the house here?" She looked over at Father Michael for his approval.
"Of course, my dear," the old man retorted. "This is your home away from home; you can do just as you wish."
Amaris pulled an ivory comb from her leather pouch which was lying on the floor nearby, and, having undone her long braids, began the lengthy and arduous* task of returning them to their usual tidy state. "I am thankful that I learned how to do this years ago," she laughed, "or else I should be very lost without my maidservants to tend to all my grooming! Perhaps my man Jordan would like to try his hand at the art of hairdressing?"
"I think I should perhaps need to decline," Jordan smiled. "I would be much too timid to put my rough hands upon such splendor."
"It is but a gift of God," Amaris said simply. "I have always consoled myself that what I lack in my face He has made up in my hair.--Although in this part of the world it is not a great and obvious gift, as I do not have much opportunity to make it known!"
"Indeed," Michael laughed, "for what relation of His Royal Majesty, however distant, would be blessed with hair of such a color! You must have had to walk a very fine and well-protected line, little one!"
"It has been awkward at times," Amaris admitted, "but my love for His Majesty made any difficulties more than worthwhile. Oh, but Father Michael!" Amaris jumped to her feet, with one hand keeping her place in her half-braided tress*--no amount of excitement, however great, was going to cause her to lose her place in that difficult task which had already taken up too much of her time--"Father Michael, you must tell me the great and important reason which has prompted my journey here."
"Come, sit at the table with me," the old man told the two, "and as we fill our stomachs, I shall fill your ears and minds with enough to keep them busy long after this meal has been replaced by the next."
Amaris quickly secured the last braid with a thin ribbon, and coiled them skillfully over her head. After pinning them carefully in place, she joined the men at the table.
"Dear Lord," Father Michael had folded his hands together, resting his elbows on the rough wooden table. His eyes were pressed closed, and his voice gave forth an earnestness that Amaris always noticed when he spoke of and to his Lord. "We come humbly before You to beg Your guidance upon these faulty lips. May they not stumble in the uttering of this message. This I ask in Your precious name. Amen."
"Amen," Jordan said, in a heartfelt voice.
Amaris mumbled her consent under her breath. She felt a bit ashamed to be still pulling away from open expressions of devotion. Although she was warming up, she still felt rather distant compared to these two men who seemed so solid in their faith and love for God. Amaris sighed and rolled her eyes. Maybe she just wasn't cut out for this type of dedication. But she was shocked back into rapt* attention by the first words that rolled off the old man's tongue.
"Your father " Michael hesitated as he saw the look of disbelief that came across Amaris' face. Her white face became almost ghostly. Then she cracked out a smile, and croaked, "Oh, you mean His Majesty!"
"You heard me right the first time," Michael continued. "I mean your father--that is, your natural father. I have news of him, and that is why I have called you here."
Amaris felt as though she had been catapulted into another world. Her head began to spin uncontrollably, and everything else in the room became part of an unearthly whirl. Part of her wanted to grab the old man by the shoulders and compel him to force the words out faster than he was already doing; another part of her wanted to stop her ears and run the other direction as fast as she could.
For a moment she yearned for the happy and carefree life she had known only seconds earlier. She dreaded the thought of the future, with all the pain and problems she knew that it would bring. But then she realized that, once again, she was being led along step by step. Someone was guiding her, and she would have to discover what was the purpose that was being wrought.
"Go on," Amaris said. Having now resolved her inner struggle (at least for the moment), she was eager to hear the news. "I am all right, I can handle it."
Father Michael pushed his chair back from the table, and stood up slowly. Clasping his hands behind his back and striding over to the fireplace, he began to speak. "Ever since my chance encounter with His Majesty that day in the marketplace, we have held our friendship dear to our hearts. Once I discovered that he was the king, as I did later that day, of course I was shocked. His disguise had been such that I had no idea that he was not an ordinary nobleman, seeking a new slave for his household. But he trusted me, and he sought my advice on how to go about integrating you into his own family, as you know. And then he was anxious for you to learn of your former culture, so that is how you came to spend those times with me."
"And a good instructor you were, dear Father Michael!" Amaris smiled, as happy memories danced through her mind. "I couldn't have done better under any formal tutelage."
"Yes, well," the old man smiled, "that's a matter of personal opinion, I suppose! Nevertheless, I came to feel a special bond with this little one who was, in a way, my link with His Majesty. As much as I loved and admired him, so did I love you; but I was always curious about your past. I knew--and know--that you are probably one of the most well cared for subjects in the realm, and that in His Majesty's palace you do not lack anything. Yet I've always had the impression that sometime, the past would resurface.
"I have heard whispers of it in my times of quiet ... never anything specific, but floating whispers that I have only caught drifts of.
"Actually " Michael hesitated, as if deciding whether he should say what he was thinking of right then. After a moment of thought, he continued. "Actually, I wrote some of them down. Do you want to hear them?"
"Oh yes!" Amaris burst out.
Michael went over to a small shelf on the left side of the room, and pulled out a small bundle of parchment sheets. He then returned to the table. For a moment he looked up at Jordan. "You're awfully quiet, young man."
"Oh I actually, I feel a bit out of place here," Jordan stammered. "I wonder if I might go outside to get some air? You may feel more comfortable to discuss this personal matter without me being present."
"Amaris?" Michael indicated that he was fine either way.
"Oh!" Amaris reached out and grabbed Jordan's hand in both of hers, and looked up at him pleadingly. "Oh, please would you stay? There's nothing that could be said that I wouldn't want you to know. Anyway," she said laughingly, "it will save me having to tell you all about it afterwards, right?"
Jordan smiled, and it was settled.
Michael had found his place by now, and looked up at Amaris. "Don't fall off your seat now; it's nothing great and mighty. Just a few wee words I caught blowing in the wind. Okay, here we are--this is just what I wrote. I'll read it out to you:
"'I'm sitting on the hill, and the sun is setting on my right, all big and golden. The whole countryside appears to be bathed in liquid gold. A gentle breeze is blowing over me. It's strange, this golden light makes me think of Amaris. I can almost feel something, a message, blowing in the wind, trying to break through to me. I can't quite grasp it. If only I could reach out my hands and catch these messages. My God, give me a clear channel for what You want to tell me!
"'I hear the wind again: She is blown about by My hand. I have blown her high, but she must return low again before the end of all things is at hand. She has blown far, and she must return from where she has come.'"
The old man looked up a little sheepishly.
"I think that's it," he said. "Oh wait. There was one more. This one came a few weeks later. All this must have been nearly a year ago. 'The time will come for My little servant--' That's you, of course; none so little as my princess! 'The time will come for My little servant to step out with little more than her faith in Me, that I may test and try it, to see what it is made of. I shall purge her gold that I may see how brightly it doth shine.'"
Amaris' eyes were filled with tears. "Why did you never show these to me?" she asked.
"It wasn't that long ago that I got them, and I haven't seen you since then. Besides," he said, "what would I have said? I probably wouldn't have mentioned it now except that the subject came up. I just feel a bit strange showing them to you."
"Oh, I know, I understand!" She said quickly. "I'm sorry! I do appreciate you showing me; it really means a lot."
"Here," Father Michael carefully held the two leafs towards her, "why don't you take these? I'm sure they will help you on your journey--and I suppose that you will need all the help you can get!"
"Journey?" Jordan said. "I don't recall you mentioning a journey yet!"
"Ah yes!" Michael put his hand over his mouth--though he was obviously much too late. "Ah yes, but I am getting ahead of my story. Let me continue. Where was I now?"
"You were getting impressions that I would need to return to my past," Amaris said.
"Yes, I just had sort of a instinctive feeling, you know?--Never much concrete, but feelings. So then, not more than a month ago, I was in town buying produce and a few odds and ends that I needed for the house. I happened to be standing in line behind two old busybodies, and they were yakkin' away. I took it as a good chance to brush up on my local language.
"The ones who come here so often want to practice their English on me that I don't get much opportunity any more to speak in the local tongue. So I was casually translating their conversation in my mind, without really taking in what they were saying, until something started to sound very familiar to me."
Michael stood up again, and began to pace back and forth. "I don't remember their exact words, but they were talking about the austere Englishman, and what a shame it was. How handsome he was, he and his lovely wife, and that lovely daughter of his. How it seemed that fate had dealt him a blow that was more harsh than such good looks deserved."
Amaris remained as silent and motionless as a statue, too transfixed* to show on her face any of the emotion that was spinning through her soul.
Michael continued. "They talked about how his little daughter had disappeared so many years ago and had never been found.--That was where I caught interest, because it was beginning to sound very familiar. Then " Michael paused, as if the words he was about to say weighed so heavily on his tongue that they could hardly be uttered, " his wife had died a few months before."
Amaris caught her breath.
"I'm so sorry, dear." Michael went and stood behind Amaris, placing his weather-beaten hands on her shoulders. For a moment he stood silently, as Amaris pondered all that he had said so far.
Michael then resumed his account: "And now, the ladies continued, this man himself had been stricken by a debilitating illness that left him scarcely able to move. And then I do remember almost their exact words." Michael paused. "'Why doesn't he just go back to his country?' the one said. 'I'm sure he has family there who could care for him. Why does he pass his days alone and in pain?' The second answered, and I tell you, child, those words burned through my heart more than anything I think I have heard. 'He has never given up hope. He still waits for his child's return.'"
For a moment it seemed that time stood still. Amaris was breathing slowly and laboriously, her chest heaving up and down. Her face was wet, but the tears had stopped coming. It all seemed to be a long and complicated dream.
"Is this all true?" she asked doubtfully, though she knew the answer well.
"It is, little one," Michael said, "though I don't know if I should feel happy for you or sad. I know there's probably a bit of both feelings on your side."
"Yes," she said. "Great joy, and great sorrow, all at once! But Father," she said suddenly, "you said this took place some weeks ago. Why did you wait so long to inform me?"
"Well," Michael continued, "by the time I realized what had happened and gathered my wits about me--believe me, child, I was near as floored as you feel now--the ladies were gone! So I had to launch into full-time investigative work, questioning the store owner as to the ladies' identity and searching for them, and slowly following the resultant trail, until--I located your father."
"You found him?!" Amaris stood straight up. Her chair clattered to the floor behind her, startling Jordan. He rushed to pick it up for her.
"Yes," Michael said, "I spoke with him just ten days ago. I told him nothing of our mutual acquaintance, of course. But once I had found him and knew that he was well, then I requested my Heavenly Father's permission to inform you of the fact as well. My Lord actually asked me what I thought He had led me on this wild chase for, if I wasn't supposed to tell you about it!" Michael chuckled. "But of course, He also said He was glad I had asked. He said that I should request to His Majesty that you come as soon as possible."
"Does the king know the reason for my visit?" Amaris asked.
"I do not know how much detail he picked up from my message," Michael said. "I did not get very specific, but I did say that it involved your past."
"Well, he did seem rather melancholy*, more than usual," Amaris remembered. "It was as though he were giving me up for good and not sure whether I would return or not. What a great deal has happened since that day that I stood in the courtyard, looking up at his dear face! Oh my, what a turn of events! What shall I do? Jordan, what shall we do?"
"I suppose we must go!" Jordan said. "We must go face the past, that we may find our way into the future."
* * *
VI - Step by Step
"I suppose we had better be on our way," Amaris said as she stood squirming in the doorway, looking anxiously towards the horizon.
Ever since Michael had broken the news several hours before, Amaris had not been herself. She was nervous, fidgety, and obviously very anxious to be on the road again. Michael had already attempted to convince her to stay the night and depart early the following morning, but she would not hear of it.
"Too much of my life has already passed in darkness," she explained. "I cannot stand it one second longer now that I know that the sunrise is just around the corner."
"My child," Michael spoke from a depth of wisdom yet unknown to the younger ones, "remember, as you go, that life is not spun of the same fabric as dreams. Imagination is a flimsy, silken garment, but more often you will find that reality is made of coarser stuff--less airy and appealing to the eye, but strong, sturdy, made to last."
The words seemed to only brush over Amaris, but Jordan thanked the old man. "We will remember that," he promised. "And I will take good care of her, sir. You have my word. I will protect her with my own life." Michael knew that he was in dead earnest.
Now the moment of departure had come. Michael had provided them with a change of garment--something a little less conspicuous* than their previous garb--and enough provisions to last them several days. He had gone over the directions carefully several times, and Jordan had repeated them back to him to show that he remembered them well. Michael seemed almost as anxious as Amaris.
Jordan felt like a native caught between two nervous foreigners. I guess I am, really! he thought to himself with an inner chuckle. But of course, his Amaris was different. She was as much a native of his land as he was. And the thought that anything might change with her was almost enough to give him the jitters. But sensibly realizing that both of the others were tottering on the edge of distraction, he put aside his own concerns and worries of loss, and steeled his nerves for the difficult journey ahead.
"So you are sure that everything is clear?" Michael was asking again. "Do you want to go over the directions one more time?"
Jordan had lost count of how many times they had gone over the instructions, but he smiled understandingly at the old man. "Thank you, dear Father," he said reassuringly, "but we will be all right. Remember, we are in the hands of the Almighty, and thus, our safekeeping and ultimate success is assured."
"Of course, you are right!" Michael sat down wearily. "I had almost forgotten, in all of my anxiousness over this very troubling situation. It's all so very unsettling, you know." He mopped his brow with an old frayed handkerchief. "Very unsettling indeed. But you are right. God is in control, and He will bring His will to pass. Yes," he stood up again, "yes, you'd best be on your way then. May God bring you along as He best sees fit!"
After exchanging an affectionate hug with her old tutor, Amaris stood poised on the front porch, like a racehorse at the starting gate. Jordan came out the door behind her, with the bag of provisions thrown over his shoulder. "Thank you again," he said to Michael, "and do remember us in your prayers, for we shall need them."
"Oh," said Amaris suddenly, turning around towards him again, "and I wonder if you wouldn't mind sending a little message--you know, one of your special messages--to his dear Majesty, and let him know that I am well, and on my way again."
"That I will do, child."
Without another word, the two set foot back on the dusty trail that led towards the main road, where they would take up their journey once more.
* * *
After some time of walking in silence, Amaris said thoughtfully, "You know, I do think it's marvelous how it's worked out that it's just us carrying on with this journey. It would have been much more complicated to make this whole trip with all the servants and soldiers. You can't exactly blend in very well like that."
"Yes, you are right," Jordan said. "Still, it's highly unusual that they would all leave like that in the middle of the night. I have never heard of such a thing in all of my life. They must have gone temporarily mad to risk their lives like that, courting the anger of His Majesty! But as you said, I suppose we are better off. I know that I certainly am." He timidly stretched his free hand out from his body, leaning it slightly towards the girl to see if she would respond.
But Amaris was much too caught up with her own thoughts to notice this small gesture, and walked on, oblivious. Jordan cast his eyes downward again, biting his lip. Why couldn't he learn to stay within his bounds? There was a huge gulf between Amaris and himself, one that would be obvious even to the youngest of his brothers. Why could not he, a grown man, see that?
Love is a strange thing! he thought to himself. It can gloss over differences and barriers just as though there were none. But I suppose it doesn't do much good for the boundaries to be gone on one side, if they are clear as ever on the other. And with a renewed resolution of self-restraint, he turned his thoughts back to the road.
* * *
The city was a little more than a day's walk away, but Amaris was still tired from the first leg of their journey, and the pair did not make fast progress. By the time nightfall descended, they were less than halfway to their destination.
"I think that we shall have to sleep out in the open tonight," said Jordan, "for the terrain around here is flat, and I do not see any shelter up ahead."
"Perhaps we could continue walking through the night." Amaris couldn't bear the thought of sleeping when, in her mind, that time could be much better used to make forward progress. "We have had a good rest at Father Michael's, and I see no reason why we should waste these cool evening hours in idleness and sleep!"
"My lady Amaris," said Jordan, "I understand that you are eager to arrive, but your strength must be conserved. Consider what a toll it shall be to come face to face with your past. At that moment I do think that you shall be thankful to have taken a few hours in rest. Additionally, the way is so dark on this starless night that we should be in peril of hurting ourselves if we were to continue any further. Those dark clouds have nearly covered the moon, and I can hardly see you just standing five feet from me. I beg you to take some rest beneath this tree, and I will keep watch."
Amaris opened her mouth to argue, then abruptly shut it again. "You are right, Jordan," she said gloomily. Then she dropped to the ground and flung her arms around her knees.
"My lady, what is the matter?" said Jordan as he quickly dropped to her side.
"Jordan, I've been a beast today, haven't I?" she asked tearfully.
"Why no, not at all," Jordan said. "You've just been buried in your thoughts."
"No, I have been very nasty to you. I've been so full of myself that I haven't given you the time of day." She smiled through her tears, "Even if I knew it, which I don't."
Awkwardly, Jordan put his arm around her, forgetting all about his earlier resolution. "It's all right," he said seriously, "I can teach you."
They both laughed, and Jordan pointed up towards the sky. "You see the position of the moon?" he asked. "It's not very clear tonight so it's hard to tell, but you can see it partly hidden behind that cloud. On clear nights, the stars are guideposts as well. Anyway, my expert skill tells me " he tugged an imaginary beard on his chin with an air of mock wisdom, "it must be around nine o'clock."
"That is truly amazing!" Amaris exclaimed, casting her eyes towards her handsome servant. "You are a remarkable man, Jordan."
"Only because of having been so long in the presence of a remarkable lady," he said with a shy smile.
The air was thick, and it seemed to Amaris that the world was moving in slow motion. She had never felt this queer sensation that seemed to be swirling in her belly. She raised an eyebrow and opened her mouth to say something, but nothing came out. She closed her mouth again and turned her eyes towards the sky.
At that moment the clouds parted directly above them, leaving a patch of gloriously shimmering stars.
"Oh!" Amaris burst out. "It's a sign! It must be a sign!" She turned to Jordan. "What do the heavens say to you, Jordan?"
He lifted his brown eyes to the stars, and as she looked at him, she could see their reflections dancing like so many infant sunbeams.
"The heavens are a reflection of the joy that bursts in my soul. I am truly the happiest man alive!" he said. He turned to his companion with a thoughtful look in his eyes. "Amaris, would you grant me one request?"
"Of course," she said. "You have gone along with my last request rather marvelously, I thought."
Without another word, he leaned over and placed a tender kiss on her lips. Then he returned his back to the tree. "Thank you," he whispered.
Amaris was caught rather off guard. A good thing, she thought to herself, or else my royal upbringing might have intervened and I would have missed that delightful experience!
"We'd better get some sleep, I guess," she said aloud, not knowing what else to say. "We have a big day ahead tomorrow." She leaned against his shoulder and shut her eyes. But just a few seconds later, she opened them again, and lifted up her head. "Jordan," she said, "I have a feeling about this trip."
"What is that?"
"Well, when I think about meeting my natural father, I feel nervous, awkward and excited, all at once. It's a very big thing for me, and this morning I thought it was the ultimate purpose of my life. But somehow--I don't know why--I have a feeling that there is something more. I think that God has engineered this as just a small part in His plan. I don't know what it is, but I have a feeling that He has some greater purpose for this trip. What do you think?"
"Amaris, on this trip I am little more than a companion for you. I cannot say what the purpose or end result will be. But I do know that as surely as our God has led us this far and has made clear our way step by step, He will do no less for the remainder of our journey."
To be continued ...
A TALE OF TWO TURTLES
Tiny bubbles broke on the surface of the pond. Out popped two eyeballs, then a tiny little pointed nose, as Flop poked his head up out of the water to take a look around.
It was a bright and sunny day. The sky looked so blue and the leaves looked so green. Flop ventured out a little bit further until the top of his shell could be seen floating on the surface of the water. Then, he dove back down again, way, way, way, way, far down deep into the water.
"Hey, it looks great up there," he said to his best friend, Flip. "C'mon, let's go!"
Flip wasn't feeling so eager to crawl out of her turtle shell and dash madly through the water. She was feeling a bit sleepy and slow and slumbery--like she just wanted to burrow down deep into the sand and stay cozy in her little hole.
But Flop kept insisting and pushing water in her face with his big webbed feet. He kept dashing back and forth creating such a stir that Flip couldn't sleep anymore. So she decided to slowly come out of her little shell and see what was going on.
Flop had already darted back up to the surface of the water and was skimming along the top of the water, snapping at little bugs that flew through the air.
Flip made her way slowly up to the surface. She took the roundabout way: She swam through the leaves, under the logs, past the rocks, and back down for one more survey of life at the bottom of the pond. Then she swam slowly up to the surface, while Flop was paddling back and forth, diving down to the bottom, and swimming wildly back up to the top.
"Hey, isn't it great up here?" said Flop.
"Boy, what a beautiful day. What shall we do?" asked Flip.
"Well, let's swim over to that log."
"Okay, let's go!"
Off they went, swimming along side by side, with their big webbed feet pushing them through the water.
Most people think turtles are slow, but they can actually swim quite fast. If you've ever watched them and kept your eye on them, you'll see how fast they can go, how interesting they are, and how many different things they can do with their shell and little tail helping them to maneuver* through the water.
Suddenly, Flop asked, "What's that in the water? That strange big thing?"
"I don't oh, you mean that floating thing over there?" Flip replied.
"Yeah, what is that?"
"I don't know. What do you think, Flop? Is it safe to go and see? It looks a lot bigger than us and we can only see a little bit of it from here."
"Well, maybe we can just swim to the right of it, and if you stay behind me, Flip, we can check it out. If we need to we can always make a dash for those big leaves over there and hide under them."
Flip glanced over toward the leaves that Flop had suggested as a good hiding place. She decided that they looked safe enough, so she said, "Okay, Flop, let's go."
Flop took off in the lead, with Flip following close behind.
As Flip followed Flop, she thought, Flop is so handsome. He is just the most handsome turtle I've ever seen. He's so cute. Isn't he beautiful? Look how beautiful his shell is, so pretty and green with those beautiful orange and red and brown and yellow markings. Ohhh, I love him so much!
Flip was totally devoted to Flop and thought he was the best turtle she'd ever seen. He was so brave and so strong, so adventurous. He was much braver than she was. He was willing and ready to do things that she was too shy to do. She was more timid, more bashful, so she admired him and wished that she was more like him. She wished that she was braver too.
Flop had been swimming really fast, but as they got closer he slowed down so he wouldn't bump right into this strange object. "Hey look!"
"What is it?" asked Flip. It was big and round and stuck partly out of the water. When Flip bumped up against it, it felt hard and smooth and cold.
Flop was already swimming around the other side of it.
"Oh, look!" Flop said. "You can see inside! Yeah, look, you can see inside of it.--It's hollow."
They could hear their voices echoing and ringing inside of the empty jar. Flop was shouting, "Hello!" and listening to his voice echoing inside. Flip was giggling.
"This is really fun!" She started talking inside too, "Hello in there! Oooo, Oooo!" They both were laughing and talking and giggling and listening to the echo their voices made inside the big empty chamber.
"It looks like a big empty jar! C'mon, let's go inside," said Flop as he began paddling towards the opening.
"Where are you going?" said Flip, "Maybe you shouldn't; you don't know what's in there."
"Oh, it'll be okay. Don't worry," Flop called over the back of his shell. He pushed and struggled to get his shell through the opening, and finally slipped inside--all the way down to the bottom.
"Are you all right?" Flip called out.
"Yes, I'm okay. But I don't know if I can get out of here," Flop answered.
The jar was hard and shiny. Flop couldn't get a grip on it with his claws. He tried and tried to climb back out of the jar, but he couldn't push himself through the opening. He knew he wasn't going to be able to get out of there on his own.
"Don't worry," said Flip, "I can see you. I'll help you." Her mind was racing! How on earth was she going to help Flop to get out of there? She didn't know what to do. She swam back and forth frantically trying to think of something--anything! He should never have gone in there in the first place, she thought.
Then she spotted a long green tendril*, part of a vine floating on the surface of the water.
That's it! Maybe that'll help. She picked up one end in her mouth, and pulled hard as she swam back towards the jar. She swam around and around the sides of the jar, wrapping the tendril around it as fast as she could. Then she grasped the other end of the tendril in her mouth and began swimming towards the shore, pulling the jar behind her.
It was hard work, and it made her jaw ache. She swam hard, pushing the water and pulling the heavy jar with Flop trapped inside, which made it even heavier. It seemed to take so long, but she was determined to help her friend.
Finally, she reached the shore and slowly crawled up, digging her claws into the earth as deep as she could, dragging the jar behind her. Slowly the jar lifted out of the water and scraped onto the sand. Flip dropped the tendril out of her mouth and raced toward the jar to see if Flop was all right. Yes! There he was, crouched at the bottom of the jar, peeking out at her.
"Are you all right, Flop?"
"Yes," he said, looking a little sheepish*.
"There," she said, "now we just have to get you out."
Several ideas went through her mind. Maybe I could make one of those rocks roll down and smash into the bottle. Then Flop could crawl out. But that would be pretty dangerous. No, that's probably not a good idea. Oh, Jesus, please help us!
Suddenly, she had another idea. She called down to Flop and said, "I'm going to swim over to the north side of the pond and I'll be right back." She then dove into the water.
The north side of the pond? thought Flop. Why would she be going over there? Did she really mean the north side? That's where all that icky, gooey, slimy green stuff is that we always try to avoid!
By this time Flip was swimming frantically through the water. She could see it in the distance: frothy, smelly, slimy, green algae*. Normally they never swam over there, but today was different. She swam closer and closer. There it was! She held her breath, closed her eyes and took a big dive straight into it.
Splash!! It got all over her, her shell, her feet, her face and the top of her head, but that's just what she wanted. She swam back out again with tufts of algae all over her, and headed straight back to the jar.
She grasped the opening of the jar with her little feet, got as close as she could, rubbing the algae from her shell onto the jar opening.
Then she called to Flop, "Okay, this is a wild idea, but it might work! Run as fast as you can and see if you can push through the opening. This slippery, slimy, green algae might help you come out of there. It's so slippery."
Flop backed up as far as he could. He used all his strength to kick off from the bottom of the jar, making a tremendous dash for the opening--and out he shot like a bullet!
"Oh, Flip, it worked!" he called as he sailed past her.
"Oh yes! It did!"
They were now both covered in green algae. Flip smiled and said, "Oh, I'm so happy you're all right."
"Yes," said Flop. "Thank you for helping me. I'm sorry. I should have listened to you and not have climbed into that jar."
"Oh, that's okay," said Flip. "Don't worry. C'mon, let's go wash this stuff off."
So they dove under the water down through the leaves, wriggling and wiggling until all the algae was washed off. The little bubbles again broke on the surface of the water. Then both their heads popped up above the water.
It was now evening on the pond and the sun was setting, casting its beautiful gold and orange reflections across the water. Flip and Flop crawled up on a log and sat side by side. Neither of them said anything for a long time. They just watched the bugs fly by and the trees waving in the breeze, and were contentedly thinking how good it was to be safe.
"I love you, Flip."
"I love you too, Flop."
THE ADVENTURES OF LITTLE WHITE HAWK
It's me, Little White Hawk. I'm back again to share with you another exciting adventure of my life. Would you like to hear about my first encounter with White Man?
Meeting White Man
I awoke, emerging from my teepee to a gorgeous day. The sky overhead was a beautiful blue. White fluffy clouds were scattered across the horizon. As I breathed in the refreshing spring air, my heart overflowed with joy for the beautiful creation about me.
As I looked around the village, the mothers were beginning to prepare food for the families. There was a peaceful stillness about our camp. I so enjoyed mornings like this.
It had been a year since my father had passed away. I was now 14 years old. Though times were peaceful, the winds of change had blown through our lives. There was much talk and concern about a new race of people who were settling our lands. The White Man had come across the great waters, and had settled in eastern North America. Now they were pushing westward, pioneering and exploring this new country they had discovered.
There was much talk. There were many rumors, some quite frightening. The behavior of these white men seemed conflicting. We heard that some were friendly toward Indians, and then there were tales of violence--killings and pillaging* of Indian villages.
We heard of white men in our area. There had been sightings by different ones while out on missions, but never had our tribe met or been attacked by the white man, as we had heard other tribes were.
Since the passing of my father, Black Feather had been chosen to be chief. I was being taught to fill my father's place one day, but I was young and had need of training. To become chief of the tribe is a great responsibility and one must pass many tests before taking on this responsibility. Because Black Feather had been very trusted of my father, he was now chief of our tribe.
Since I was the son of Chief Great White Hawk, Black Feather had taken personal responsibility to teach me and train me in the ways of a warrior--to be a provider and protector for my people. The land around us was not civilized as it is today. We had to learn to fight to defend our tribe, to protect our women and children.
Today, Black Feather and I would go out. We would ride and talk. The training of a warrior is not just physical training and learning the different tactics of how to fight, but it was also during these times of talking that I learned much about how to lead and understand the ways and needs of my people.
I so enjoyed these times with Black Feather, for he spoke to me of many things. It was a time when I could ask him questions, not just about practical matters, but about matters of the heart.
As we set out for our ride, we took supplies, for we would not return until the morrow. We took food and water and set off. The ride was beautiful. I admired Black Feather very much. He was a strong and mighty warrior. He was proud to be a Shawnee. He would often tell me that I should never be ashamed of my tribe.
Black Feather told me there were Indians who were known for their fierceness, but we were different. Our tribe did not seek to hurt and harm others. We sought to live in harmony, but if we were provoked or attacked or the safety of our tribe was threatened, we did not hesitate to attack and fight for our tribe. Life in those days was rough and not always kind.
As our horses drew to the top of a ledge, Black Feather and I looked at the valley below. There we noticed a covered wagon traveling across the plain. Black Feather turned to me. "It is the White Man," he said.
I had never seen white men before, and my curiosity was overwhelming. What do they look like? What do they act like? I thought. I turned to Black Feather.
"I have never seen White Man. Do you think it would be safe to ride down and get a closer look?"
Black Feather said, "I do not know, Little White Hawk. We need to be very careful. If we are discovered and they feel threatened, it could be very dangerous."
"Black Feather," I said, "I promise I will be very quiet! Please, can we get a closer look?"
Black Feather stood looking down upon the plain. After a few moments of silence he answered, "We must proceed cautiously, Little White Hawk. And if I feel the danger is too great, we must turn back. I cannot risk your being harmed."
So we carefully descended from the top of the range. We noticed the wagon was traveling slowly, and it looked as if something was wrong. The man who held the reins and drove wagon looked pale and weary. My eyes saw a rifle at his side. I had heard about these weapons the white men carried that made great noise and great smoke and brought death to many.
As we moved closer, it was obvious to Black Feather and me that whoever was in this covered wagon was in need of help.
Black Feather turned to me and say, "I go ride to wagon. You wait here."
Turning his horse, he began to ride up to the wagon. As he neared, the White Man pulled in the reins, stopping the wagon. He pulled his rifle from his side and aimed it tremblingly at Black Feather.
"I en ko-en-ii-tie-itch-e-cha-ta, e naga ta. E wa en nae. E wa en nae." Black Feather yelled out. "E wa en nae! E wa en nae!" (I come in peace! I come in peace!)
The air was tense. Black Feather raised his right hand, in a gesture of peace. The white man slowly put his rifle down and in return raised his right hand.
Black Feather took a buffalo skin containing our water, and offered it to the white man. The white man took it, and turned. Behind him Black Feather saw a woman and a young girl in the wagon. They eagerly drank of water, nodding their heads to Black Feather in thanks.
Returning the buffalo skin, Black Feather refused, motioning for them to keep the water. Again, nodding their heads in thanksgiving, they kept the water.
Then Black Feather motioned for me to come forward. White Man cautiously put his hand on his rifle. Black Feather shook his hand, motioning to the white man, "No." As I joined Black Feather, he told me to take one of the buffalo skins of water that I had on my horse and give it to this White Man.
As I passed it to him, I looked upon these strange people, so different from my people--skin so pale, hair unlike ours, eyes of different color.
They look like such weak people. I thought to myself, How can these people survive the rough conditions of this country? And yet there was a kindness about them.
I thought about the Great Spirit in the Sky, how He had looked upon these white people, and given them what they needed that day. I wondered if they knew about the Great Spirit.
Black Feather turned to me and said, "Little White Hawk, this family cannot make it on their own. They need more water, and I do not think they have enough food to survive. We can send them on their way, or we can bring them to our home. They are in need of rest. I will offer them to come with us, and let us help them in their journey."
Black Feather turned, motioning to the White Man, and after much sign language between them, they seemed to understand that we meant no harm and wanted to be of help.
As we entered our village with our strange visitors, there was no small stir among my people. Immediately, they gathered around myself and Black Feather and the white people. There was mumbling, astonishment and curiosity. Who were these people?
Black Feather turned to the tribe and said, "These white men were weary. They needed water. I did not send them on their way alone, for I knew that they would meet certain death without supplies."
He told the women of our tribe to quickly make something for the strangers to eat. They would lodge with us one night, Black Feather explained, and then in the morning, with fresh supplies, he and some other men of the tribe would take these strangers and set them on their way again.
There was some tenseness in the air. These were the first white men to come to tribe. As they got off their wagon, I could tell that the young girl--whom I shall call Little White Tail, because she had white skin and her hair looked as a tail hanging down her back--and her mother, were frightened. There they stood, the three of them together. How strange it must have seemed to them, not understanding our language, in unknown territory, here with our Indian tribe.
We could see they had met with much difficulty in their journey. We did not know. But we knew they were in need of supplies.
Black Feather motioned to White Man, letting him know that we would take his horses to give them water, to which he agreed. Then it was time to eat. Black Feather had our strange guests sit with him in front of his large teepee, and the tribe circled around.
As he gave them some food, they nodded in appreciation. I looked as they bowed their heads, and started speaking a strange language. I wondered what this was they were doing. When they had finished, the young girl looked at Black Feather and said, "We give thanks to God for our food." She folded her hands together, pointed to the sky and then pointed to her food.
I thought to myself, Does she know of the Great Spirit in the Sky, like we do? Could this be, that these strange white people would believe in the same Spirit as we?
Black Feather pointed up to the sky and nodded his head, Yes! speaking in our language that we believed in the Great Spirit in the Sky.
The young girl turned to her father. "Daddy, do you think they believe in Jesus? He is pointing to the sky. Do you think they love Jesus, Daddy?"
Her father replied, "Rebecca, I do not think these Indians know about our God. Perhaps the Lord has led us to them. We did pray for His help after the sickness swept through our wagon train, and the others died."
The White Man pointed to the sky, then to Black Feather, then to the sky again and then to himself, nodding his head.
"Yes," He said, "we believe in Jesus.--Jeee-zus."
Jeee-zus? I thought to myself. Is this the name they call the Great Spirit in the Sky--Jeee-zuz?
After dinner ended, our visitors went back to their covered wagon for the night.
In the morning, after giving them supplies, Black Feather and two others of our tribe prepared to send our strange visitors on their way.
As our tribe gathered to see them off, White Man extended his hand to Black Feather. Black Feather reached out his hand, and the man shook it, saying, "Thank you, my friend. God bless you."
As Black Feather grasped his hand, he pointed upward. White Man then grasped both of Black Feather's hands with a look of thankfulness. Then they departed.
So that was my first meeting with the White Man. Although in the future our encounters would not be as friendly as this one, I could not help but remember that these white men, too, believed in Great Spirit in the Sky, Whom they called Jesus.
I later found that their people--like our people--were not all the same. Some were good and loved the Great Spirit, and some were not good. But of all the white men I was to meet in my life, this family made a most lasting impression on me. In their very small and simple way, they had witnessed to me and given me the name of the One Whom I would later discover had given His life for me that I might have life eternally--the Great Spirit in the Sky--Jesus.
(Definitions found throughout the book:)
Definitions*:
page 1
*arduous: requiring a lot of work or effort
*tress: a long lock or ringlet of hair
*rapt: deeply absorbed
page 4
*transfixed: standing still in amazement or awe
page 5
*melancholy: gloomy; deeply engrossed in thought
page 6
*conspicuous: unusual, easy to notice
page 9
*maneuver: to move with control
page 10
*tendril: a twisting, threadlike stalk, which a climbing plant uses to attach itself to a support
page 11
*sheepish: slightly ashamed
*algae: organisms that usually grow in and on top of stagnant water pools
page 12
*pillaging: robbing or taking spoils
[End]
Copyright (c) 1998 by Aurora Productions