Isolt of the Waters is an ancient water elemental whose betrayal and enchantment has forever changed the Whole. When a young scholar in Idonne discovers her story, along with tales of dwarf magic and the birth of Umbra—a malevolent entity dwelling in the Void—he dreams of a life filled with adventure and heroism.
Can we communicate with plants ... the trees, the flowers, the grass ... as much as we can communicate with other animals? Is that ability hard-wired into our biology only to be snuffed out by mis-education?
Vulcan would take Quasimi a gift. Something to delight him. The dwarf god possessed as much skill over wood as he did over metal. He cut a branch from a towering white oak. The spirit of the tree emerged. Crimson stained her fingers. She staunched the flow of blood from a gash in her side. “You bereave me with no consideration?” Vulcan fumbled for words. His glance darted between the wood in his hand and the tree spirit’s wound. “I didn’t know you were alive.” “Your lack of awareness is apparent.” He held out the branch, to return it to her. “No. It is like a child. Once born it cannot re-enter the womb. But know this: It will retain memory of the roots that birthed it.” “I meant to use it for a gift.” “Do with it what you will, but don’t steal from me again.” “And your wound?” “It will heal in time.” The tree spirit re-entered the white oak. — Excerpt from The Tale of Hermes' Wand, Isolt's Enchantment
I'll leave you with U2's One Tree Hill, a song about loss, honor, nature, and wonder ...
Song Lyrics:
We turn away to face the cold, enduring chill
As the day begs the night for mercy love
The sun so bright it leaves no shadows
Only scars carved into stone
On the face of earth
The moon is up and over One Tree Hill
We see the sun go down in your eyes
You run like river, on like a sea
You run like a river runs to the sea
And in the world a heart of darkness
A fire zone
Where poets speak their heart
Then bleed for it
Jara sang, his song a weapon
In the hands of love
You know his blood still cries
From the ground
It runs like a river runs to the sea
It runs like a river to the sea
I don't believe in painted roses
Or bleeding hearts
While bullets rape the night of the merciful
I'll see you again
When the stars fall from the sky
And the moon has turned red
Over One Tree Hill
We run like a river
Run to the sea
We run like a river to the sea
And when it's raining
Raining hard
That's when the rain will
Break my heart
Raining, raining in the heart
Raining in your heart
Raining, raining to your heart
Raining, raining, raining
Raining to your heart
Raining, raining in your heart
Raining in your heart
To the sea
Oh great ocean
Oh great sea
Run to the ocean
Run to the sea
Isolt of the Waters is an ancient water elemental whose betrayal and enchantment has forever changed the Whole. When a young scholar in Idonne discovers her story, along with tales of dwarf magic and the birth of Umbra—a malevolent entity dwelling in the Void—he dreams of a life filled with adventure and heroism.
Are we born rooted in the garden (planet Earth)—along with our animal and plant compatriots?
If the answer is yes, we can expect/hope for outcomes like this:
What if you could talk to animals and have them talk back to you? Andrea Breytenbach has dedicated her life to what she calls interspecies communication. She sends detailed messages to animals through pictures and thoughts. She then receives messages of remarkable clarity back from the animals ... the amazing story of how Diabolo became Spirit:
If we believe the answer is no, we can expect/predict more outcomes similar to this:
Cats of all shapes and sizes appear throughout Daughter of Light.
The maned visage roared in Celeste’s mind. Etched on a lambent gold shell, harvested from the depths of the Great White Sea, its regal quality drew the mortal woman’s hand. Above all the exquisite rattles on display, the lion’s tawny head resonated most deeply with the hopes she held for her child.—The Stargazer, Isolt's Enchantment
“Come in,” the invitation drifted from the interior. As Melia crossed the threshold, cats—real ones, not botched spells like Malachi—froze, watching her. She felt as if she were a four-armed, blue-skinned sorceress from Kyrakkos who’d wandered into a crowded bar at Southend. She took another step. The creatures resumed their feline movement—re-curling in their high perches and stretching on the front room’s magenta sofa.
A unique fragrance filled the cottage. Vanilla? Cinnamon? She couldn’t quite place it, but it made her want to curl up on one of the sofas, alongside the cats, and take a nap. She forced herself to stand straight. “Coffee?” The Illustrator’s question came from the back of her studio . Before Melia could answer, the woman returned with two plates. She set them on a table then brushed a fat black cat from its seat. The cat glared at Melia, straightened its tail, and padded from the room. —The Illustrator, Half Faerie
Sinjiin roared.
Flora and Aldous had almost reached the bottom of the stairs. Jade’s arms circled Lola. They were trapped together in the center of the dais. Ryder shielded them, wielding a dagger he’d wrested from a knight. Sinjiin tread a menacing perimeter. Three knights taunted the tiger from a safe distance. Gavin urged them on. Melia circled the chamber. Volcanic heat rose like bile in her throat. Sinjiin’s mighty bulk stretched across the dais. Blood stained his fur. Three separate blades pierced his throat, flank, and hindquarters. Their hilts quivered as the tiger gasped for air. Jade and Aldous knelt beside the large cat. Jade eased the blade from the wound in the tiger’s throat as the elf stemmed the flow of blood with a strip of cloth. Lola hovered over them, batting her hands. Ryder and Flora parried with two knights. Melia released her anguish in a guttural blast that shook the entire chamber.—The First Battle, Half Mortal
A vast plain of dried grass and brush stretched before him. He sniffed the air: the dust of dry earth, the wet of water—a river, and the blood of a fresh kill. He threw back his head and roared. Overheard, dazzling light punctured a pitch-black sky. He tore across the plain, his mighty paws kicking up dirt and tiny rocks. Another mighty beast raced by his side, his mate. They pounded the land in unison. By the time they reached the blue wildebeest, the hyena that had killed it was long gone. He crouched to rip a chunk of meat from the dead animal. It was a good night. After his mate finished eating, they curled around one another and slept deeply.—The Heart of a Lion, War & Grace
I'll leave you with this powerful visual and instrumental tribute to all felines, freedom, and nature, John Barry's Born Free.
And if you've never heard the lyrics:
Born free, as free as the wind blows
As free as the grass grows
Born free to follow your heart
Live free and beauty surrounds you
The world still astounds you
Each time you look at a star
Stay free, where no walls divide you
You're free as the roaring tide
So there's no need to hide
Born free, and life is worth living
But only worth living
'Cause you're born free
(Stay free, where no walls divide you)
You're free as the roaring tide
So there's no need to hide
Born free, and life is worth living
But only worth living
'Cause you're born free
