I stood by a rock on the far side of the hill. I felt huge, as tall as the tallest tree, big enough to make ripples with my fingertips in the black silky liquid of the sky, big enough to cause the stars to dart like little silvery fish. My senses were preternaturally keen. I could taste and smell the rotting of the leaves beneath the new-fallen snow. I could smell the stale slumber of the hares in their musty earthen beds, could feel their dream-chased twitches. And I knew that if I really concentrated I could meld my soul with theirs and become as one with them.
“We are all made of star stuff and kitten breath,” Matka Lasu had said. And in a moment of blazing lucidity I discovered a basic truth. Every living thing is born of earth and sky. We are all the same, as family members are the same. Waiting on the side of the snow covered hill, I felt as if my blood were the sky, as if the stars coursed through my veins, as if I had merged with all the hibernating things, and were sleeping their winter dreams. Their breath was my breath, their fears my fears, their appetites, their divine lust for life, my own. A strange tingling flickered between my legs, a rapture of desire that I didn’t understand. Excerpt from Forest Song: Finding Home by Vila SpiderHawk, p 181
Excerpt from Forest Song: Finding Home, p 181