Sun Dancer’s Walk

Your world isn’t exactly what you think it is. Not the part of it those of your Clan can see. That is the first thing you must accept. What you see isn’t complete. Just a dim reflection of all that is.

Humans are blind. Of all of the Clans of the Folk, you see the least, and what you do see is changed by your mind into something you are more prepared to accept.

All except for your young, that is. A human child is trusting, more apt to believe in what her eyes are telling her. They do perceive a bit of the deeper realm, upon the earth and under the sun.

Then, after a handful of summers, “common sense” takes over, and the world loses most of its glory. A Sprite becomes a wavelet, a Dryad a shrub moving to an evening breeze.

Of course, if children saw everything they share this world with, they’d spend all their lives hiding in closets…

The folk of my Clan call me “Sun Dancer.” My human companion has another name for me, a pleasant sound in her own tongue that I can't pronounce. That is acceptable. She renamed me in love, and I gladly answer to it.

Her Clan calls her “Judith”, a sound I can come close to repeating, which greatly pleases her. She is young, having seen twenty summers of her one and only Walk upon the earth and under the sun.

I am of the Folk, and of the Clan of Cat. I too am counted as young, as the lives of my people run. I walk today my third path, upon the earth and under the sun. I shall walk nine paths, and live nine times, before I part the veil and journey on.

Judith is beautiful, far too beautiful for the time and the world in which we live. She loves, and she laughs, and she trusts, and her soul sparkles forth in the darkness. I hold in memory the days when she was younger yet, before the ways of her Clan changed her forever.

In another Walk, I stood by her mother. I guarded Joy, for that was her name, and stood between her and the darkness. Such is Sun Dancer’s Walk. Such is his place, upon the earth and under the sun.

I loved Joy, and walked beside her many summers, though she had long passed the days when she could see my world and the wonders there. But sickness took her, and my Joy parted the veil and journeyed on, and left me alone.

Soon thereafter, I too made my journey to the Sacred Isle, where the Clan of Cat must rest and heal, before we take up the next of the paths before us. I knew in my shattered heart I’d see her again, when all of my Walks were done, upon the earth and under the sun.

I returned then, after a time, awoke and looked about me with a kitten’s bright eyes, and knew I’d not wandered far.

It is thus, sometimes. One may return to life far away, or begin again where he made an end, and never know the why.

A worn wicker basket for a bed, with a soft scrap of blanket on which to lie, a dish of clear water, near at hand. I’d seen them before. They were mine, or had been so in a different Walk.

Had I come back then, to the selfsame house, where Joy had smiled, and loved, and held me with soft hands? I felt my heart begin to break again. What vengeful Power had brought me here?

And then there came Judith: a little girl, a child of six summers, with golden curls and eyes as blue as the sea. She laughed just to see me there, an orange kitten in a basket bed.

Her seeming was familiar, and I suddenly knew, I now beheld the tiny babe, the little life my Joy once held in her arms in another life. Was this what the Powers had laid before me?

My task had not been completed, but the Spirit Above was kind. I would take it up again, and finish what I had begun.

And Sun Dancer made his vow. Then and there I Sun Dancer swore, that while my breath remained within me I’d walk with Judith, child of Joy, and stand between her and whatever darkness might come. My life I joined with hers, upon the earth and under the sun.

The very first gift she gave to me was a name. “You are ‘Rufus’ ”, she declared in her high childish trill. “You are Rufus, and I love you more than jelly sandwiches!”

As I’ve said, it’s a sound I cannot pronounce, but bestowed in love, and I took it up as my own.

The days that came then were good ones. We played her little girl’s games, Judith and I, in the fenced yard below the great tower where her father lit the bright flame each night.

It was a long time before I understood her father. I know now that the Clan of Man builds great carts that float, and they ride upon them. They spread broad white wings to the wind, and ride them over the sea, to places far away.

But they are fragile, easily broken, these carts of the sea. They cannot touch the rocks that show above the water, lest they break, and all who ride them die.

And so the Clan of Man piles the stones of the shore until they reach near the clouds, and at the top they make bright fire. Then those afloat can see it, and know where lie the rocks in the night, and safely turn away.

The father of my Judith is he whose Clan entrusts him with the flame, so that others may safely pass by. A high calling, I think, and others of his kind call him “Franklin.” I think it must mean “Trustworthy,” or “Flame Bearer,” or else some other naming of grace and power.

It was Franklin who’d brought me from the place of my birth, in the village by the sea. He carried me into the house beneath the tower, and set me in my bed by the window with a twinkling eye, for well he knew that Judith would soon come and see me there.

In some humans, the Clans of Cat and Man come near to touching, and such a one was Franklin, father of Judith, he who had loved my Joy.

We played in the grass of the yard, Judith and I, and in the verge of the scrubby wood that grew near to the shore. She saw the edges of my world, as a human child is wont to do.

I kept her from straying too near the Djinn or the Daemons, and showed her the Dryads and Little Folk, and heard her laughter at their ways. She ran to see the glowing jewels in the ferns, where her father could only see drops of dew, and the magic rings where the glittering Faeries danced.

The Sprites of the sea smiled at Judith’s childish beauty, and the Elves saw her heart and called her good.

When the sun sank beneath the sea, the little night Pixies came and watched her sleep, and helped me guard. When day returned, she looked first for me, and would not dress till she saw me there. Life was good in those first days with Judith, upon the earth and under the sun.

Three summers we walked in my world, Judith and I, before the wonders there began to fade from her sight. Even now though, I believe she glimpses more than others of her Clan. Walking beside her in the meadow or the trees, I’ll see a twinkle in her eye, and know: an Elf or Faerie has crossed the edges of her blue gaze.

In those days, I followed her in the world that was her own. In the summer we played the games of her youth, some that were old and some that she made just for us in her own fertile mind. The Dryads of the wood watched us and smiled as we played and ran beneath the trees.

Sometimes Franklin would join us, and would sit upon the bench and gaze at black marks upon the big white leaves he’d hold up in his weathered hands.

Other days he’d take us up the perilous steps inside the great stone tower, and spend hours with us at the very top. Far, far out over the water one can see from there, and I learned that the sea was even wider than I had imagined.

He showed Judith a long metal tube for holding to the eye, and they would look for the white-winged sea carts far out from the land, and sometimes he’d give names to them as they slowly moved over the water.

“There’s the sloop ‘Columbia’,” he’d say, or “There goes old ‘Constitution’”, and point them out.

He showed us the great light that warned the sea carts away from the rocks at night. It was a thing beyond understanding, and had pipes and wheels and a shining dish like the mirror Judith used to see her face, and the whole assembly stank to the skies of the oil that was burned in the flame.

But we were forbidden the high, dangerous steps and viewing place at night, or on our own, though the Gnomes of the tower watched our steps. I began to see that Franklin too, meant to guard my Judith, upon the earth and under the sun.

To Franklin I gave in my heart a secret name: “Friend of Sun Dancer.”

When autumn changed the leaves and the wind grew chill, we took the path to the village. There is a place, a house of stones with a door painted red, where humans teach their young the ways of their Clan. There Judith spent the short and cloudy days of winter.

At first I was not allowed inside, and spent many cold days upon the sill, where I could watch my Judith at her lessons. Then “Teacher” saw me and took pity, and I was admitted to the small room where the cloaks and wraps were hung. She laid towels upon the floor where I could lie, and set down a dish of water, and I was content.

Many days I spent thus, listening to the buzz of voices beyond the door. I could hear the chattering children, and sometimes Judith, as she stood to recite her work. The Little Folk who’d followed me that day would caper and mimic, though the Elves shook their fingers at them.

The voice that spoke oftenest was Teacher, as she set forth the mostly incomprehensible ways and learning of the Clan of Man. I did learn that the place where we lived was called “Island”, and that a far wider land lay beyond the water in the direction where the sun sank each evening.

There was a day when Judith proudly stood to tell of Franklin, and the great and important light he kept. I came to understand that the stinking oil for the flame came from huge creatures who lived in the sea, and that some of the white-winged sea carts hunted them for this boon.

I pondered this for long, but the Clans of the sea are beyond knowing, to those on the land.

As the sun sank low, the lessons would end, and my Judith would come forth. Retracing our steps, we’d soon come home to the small house beneath the great tower of the light.

There we’d take our supper and rest by the fire, and Judith would tell Franklin all that she’d learned. He would just smile and shake his head, and then climb the stone tower to kindle the light, and little knew that the Gnomes watched his steps lest he fall.

Thus did the winter pass, and such were the days of Judith and Sun Dancer, called “Rufus” by a beautiful child, upon the earth and under the sun.

As summer built upon summer, my Judith grew tall and slender, and to my eyes more beautiful still. She spent long mornings arranging her silken hair, and wore a sweet juice that smelled of flowers.

The young human toms from the village began to come then, to look upon her beauty and speak of human things with her, and sit on the bench in the yard.

When this happened, Franklin’s face grew troubled and dark like the clouds that come before a storm. Franklin neither liked nor approved of the young toms. Had he been one of my Clan, his back would have arched high, and he might even have spat.

The gnomes beneath the ferns shook their heads at his mood, though the Elves nodded knowingly. Such was always the way of a father, they knew.

I wanted to say to him that this was the way of all of the Clans, who live upon the earth. None of the young human toms would take her far from him. Judith herself, would never allow it.

As for me, I would go where my Judith went. Such is Sun Dancer’s walk. Such is his place, upon the earth and under the sun.

Sometimes, not even the eyes of Cat may see clearly what lies ahead. The Spirit Above will have his way. Judith had sixteen summers when the earth moved under our feet and changed.

It began with angry words from Franklin. Then Judith was weeping in her room, with the door shut so that I could not go in. Then both of them were crying, and I pawed frantically at the door, to no avail.

Then it flew open and Judith ran out, with reddened eyes and tears streaming down her face. She scooped me up in her arms and ran out of the house beneath the tower, down the stone path and into the low woods by the shore.

She sat down upon a mossy stone, and cried as though her world had ended. There was nothing I could do but wait. I have never felt more helpless than that, in all my Walks.

“I have to go, Rufus,” she finally wept. “I can’t stay here on the island anymore!”

When Judith speaks to me, I usually get the general idea, even if I am far from comprehending all the words. I rubbed against her and tried my best to show my love and support, but it wasn’t helping. I began to be alarmed.

“I have to go,” she sobbed. “I have to go to the mainland. I can’t go to school here anymore. They don’t have a class for sixteen year olds, and Papa won’t let me drop out.”

This was followed by a fresh spate of crying, and though it hurt me to watch, nothing I tried seemed to help.

Couldn’t she see that wherever she went, even to the wider world beyond the water, I would never leave her alone? If we were together wouldn’t there be a way to be happy? It had to be so.

“Oh, Rufus, I have to go to Boston,” she sobbed. There’s a boarding school there, and Papa has already written to them. He won’t change his mind! I have to leave next week! Rufus, how could he? How can I live?”

It was grievous, I agreed. Neither of us had ever left “Island” before. But surely, if we were together, there could be no great harm.

The next few days were spent in hurry and bustle. There were trips into the village for clothes and new shoes, and other things that came in boxes and bags. It seemed that more and different clothing was required at “Saint Mary’s Academy for Young Ladies” than at the great tower or in the village.

At least most of her tears at the prospect of our departure had dried, lost in the rush to prepare.

When all was done there came a morning when all of us went to the quay, where one of the sea carts was tied. Rough looking men took all of the boxes and bags, and these were carried down into the craft.

With a new freshet of tears, my Judith made her goodbyes, and this time Franklin wept too. Unwonted tears coursed down into the grey whiskers of his seamed and weathered face.

And my Judith turned and went up the planks that were laid from the quay to the sea cart. I made to follow, but she said, “No Rufus,” and cried yet more. “You can’t come. Boston’s no place for you. Won’t you stay and take care of Papa for me?”

With that she turned again and was gone. In sudden fear I bunched my muscles to leap for the sea cart, but Franklin seized me in his large and calloused hands. “No, Rufus,” he said as she had.

And my world crumbled to dust around me, there on the quay, as all of my life and my love disappeared.

Then Franklin wept yet again, and I began to understand, for he moaned low into his beard, “Oh, Judith… Oh Joy, my Joy.” I’d never seen Franklin do anything at all that was not for the good of my Judith. Was this terrible parting then needful after all?

“I shall wait,” I resolved in my heart. I knew she’d come again if she could. I counted and realized I’d seen ten summers of my Walk; I could wait for a while. Yes, I could wait for a little while.

So we stood there and watched from the salt encrusted quay, Franklin and I, as the rough looking men pulled on their ropes and the sea cart’s white wing rose up and embraced the wind.

Blue water rippled along the craft’s sides as it gathered speed. Soon it was growing smaller, and smaller still. Soon it was gone, and the Sprites of the sea bowed their heads.

I did wait as I had resolved, but in truth there was no life left, in Franklin or in me. Evening by evening, he’d climb the high steps to light the bright flame of the tower. Morning by morning he’d climb them again to put it out, never smiling, never speaking, only gazing at invisible things far out from the land.

I watched for his light, for what if my Judith should come home by night? She’d need the bright beacon to pass by the rocks.

Each morning I’d take the path to the place of learning, where “Teacher” recited for the young. Each day she’d say the same, “I’m sorry, Rufus. She isn’t here.”

Each evening I would go to the quay, and watch the sea carts come there to rest, but Judith never came down the planks. When the sun sank into the sea, I’d return to the house of Franklin beneath the tower, where no sun ever shone anymore.

Each night I restlessly lay in my basket bed, and remembered all the things that had been. Sometimes I thought of Judith, other times of Joy. Many times I knew not which it was. Perhaps it was both.

The summers and winters began to pass, there in the house beneath the tower, by the endless, empty sea. The Dryads in the wood grieved, and the Gnomes shook their heads, and the night Pixies came no more. Their realm and mine became shadowed and colder, as the summers went by.

Many nights now, Franklin would make black marks upon the white leaves, and he’d sometimes weep and mumble into his beard. I saw it was now streaked with white.

He’d wrap the leaves with special care, and the next day, go with me to the quay. There he’d give them to the rough looking men who rode the sea carts, and on some days they’d give back others to him.

On the very best days, one of these packets would smell of the sweet flower juice that Judith wore to please the young human toms, when she’d sat with them in the sun.

These Franklin clutched to himself and came near to smiling, and gave copper coins to the rough looking men, who dipped their heads in thanks.

“Come Rufus!” he would say, “Come, old orange cat. There is a letter today!” His strides were long then, back to the house and the tower, and my creaking old bones ached to keep pace.

When home, he’d sit in his chair and tear open the packet that smelled of flowers, and gaze raptly at the black marks on the leaves. Then fresh tears would course down his cheeks.

I knew why, and would have wept myself, if a cat had been made that way; for though the leaves smelled of Judith, she wasn’t there. I began to fear in my heart of hearts, that she never would be, as day followed day, upon an earth that no longer knew any sun.

Sometimes of a morning I’d climb the high steps with Franklin, and wait while he put out the flame and attended the needs of the great lamp.

He still pointed to the sea carts and gave them names, though truth to tell my eyes had dimmed with age, and I could no longer see them. Besides, none of them carried Judith, I knew.

On more days than not, my sinews and bones could not face the long climb, nor the cold of the wind at the top. I stayed mostly in my basket bed by the fire, an old orange cat with just a few days left of his Walk.

But, as the Spirit Above decreed in the morning of the world, all nights must eventually pass, and every darkness end.

Thus there did come a day. Oh yes, there dawned a bright morning, when Franklin rose early and dressed in his best linin frock-coat, and brushed tallow on his shoes. He walked into the village, and returned with a borrowed horse and cart.

“Up Rufus!” he called. “Come, ragged old cat! I can’t fetch her home without you; she’d never forgive us for that!” And he scooped me up and carried me forth, and set me on the seat of the cart. What was it he’d said?

“She’ll be on the mail-boat, and her young man with her. Wake up, old Rufus!” And blinking in the sunlight, I finally comprehended. The horse would take us one last time to the quay… and Judith would come. The white-winged sea carts would bring her home at last!

We reached the quay to find the lapping water empty, but soon Franklin shouted and pointed. I squinted my dim old eyes and discerned a white smudge, far out on the sea! It was the wing of a sea cart, approaching from the wider land across the water. My Judith!

The white wing grew larger, until I could see the sea cart itself beneath, as it rounded the jetty of the small harbor. Franklin shouted and waved his arms, and one of the rough looking men on the deck waved in acknowledgement.

It slowed as it neared the quay, and the rough looking men threw lines from the bow and stern, which were caught, pulled taut, and tied by other men on the shore. The planks were laid from sea cart to shore, and I caught the scent of sweet flowers. Judith!

A tall, slender, beautiful young woman of twenty summers, with golden hair and eyes as blue as the sea… and in her arms a small bundle, which seemed somehow familiar. My Judith! By her side stood a young human tom, someone I’d never seen before. Judith!

They walked down the planks, and Franklin beamed and strode forward, and finally the world was set to rights. Judith!

The boxes and bags had all come back too, and even more. These the rough looking men piled into the borrowed cart, and were each given a copper coin. My Judith!

“Papa,” she addressed the speechless Franklin, “I’d like you to meet my husband, Bertram. Bertram, this is my father.” There were coughs and shuffles and clasping of hands, all the usual ritual between humans who don’t yet know each other, but then Judith held out the bundle in her arms.

“And this, Papa, is your granddaughter Martha Anne.” Franklin took from her the bundle, as carefully as if it were the most precious jewel in all the world. As it turned out, it certainly was.

And suddenly I knew. Dim-brained old cat, of course it is! Oh yes! As Joy had carried Judith in just such a bundle, my Judith now held a new little life. I caught a glimpse of golden curls; surely her eyes must be blue! “Martha,” she’d said.

And now my Judith turned to me, and sweeping back her brocaded skirts she knelt on one knee. “Rufus, love of my childhood, you’ve waited for me! I was so afraid you wouldn’t be able. I’ll never leave you behind again, Rufus. As God is my witness, I’ll never leave you again.” And she hugged me close, upon the earth and under the sun.

“And Rufus, heart of my heart, there is a thing you must do for me,” she said. “I want little Martha to know certain things about the world we live in, Rufus. You know the things I mean.” At this, Franklin and young “Husband” looked confused, but I most definitely was not.

But how could it be? I was a ragged, failing old cat of fourteen summers. I could tell from the feeling in my bones that it would not be long before I must end my Walk and make my journey.

But hadn’t it all happened before? Oh, yes Judith! Oh yes! Just give me a season on the Sacred Isle, to rest and heal my wounds, and I will be back. Oh yes, I will return, for the Clan of Cat must walk nine times, upon the earth and under the sun.

And Sun Dancer made his vow. Then and there I Sun Dancer swore: that while my breath remained within me, I’d walk with Martha, child of Judith, child of Joy, and stand between her and whatever darkness might come. My life I joined to hers, for such is Sun Dancer’s Walk, and such is his place, upon the earth and under the sun.

She would come to know the Dryads and Little Folk, and laugh at their ways, just as her mother had done. The Sprites of the sea would smile at her beauty, and the Elves would see her heart and know that she was good.

Yes, my Judith. Yes, my Joy. Yes, my little Martha. For life was very good indeed, upon the earth and under the sun.

END