Free The Light-Bearer's Daughter by O.R. Melling Page A
Authors: O.R. Melling
wound through the bracken. Patches of pink foxglove waved her on. At one point a lone hawthorn tree, stooped and twisted by the winds, offered her a friendly branch to pull herself up. She hurried without thinking, filled with an inexplicable excitement. Her heart beat rapidly, as wild as a bird’s, and when she reached the top, breathless, she gasped with delight.
They stiffened at her arrival. Heads up, ears pricked, soft eyes staring, antlers branching: a great herd of wild deer.
She could see they were shy and a little nervous, yet they didn’t bolt. She stood still herself, not wanting to startle them. One of the does ventured forward and nuzzled her hand. The others followed after and Dana was surrounded by a wild sweet smell as they jostled her gently. She sensed they were about to run and that they wanted her to run with them.
“Not sure I can,” she murmured anxiously.
Then they breathed on her, their warm green grassy breath, and a whisper echoed through her mind. Follow the greenway . She felt a tingling in her legs. Her muscles began to twitch. Her feet pushed her upward till she was standing on her tiptoes. Now the knowledge surged through her like the green sap of spring: she could be one of them.
Oh the joy of running with the deer! Hind’s feet in high places . Supple pelts rippled alongside her, rising and falling like tawny waves. Hooves drummed and thrummed upon the earth. All ran with one mind as if of one body. At the heart of the herd, she too ran wildly, her humanity shed like clothes in the wind. She was still two-legged, but her feet were cloven and antlers jutted from her brow, and her heart beat with the wild heart of the herd.
Up the airy mountain and down the rushy glen .
The landscape blurred around them with the speed of their passing. Hurtling downhill in a blind descent, they kicked up stones and soil behind them. Now they plunged into a dark forest of oak and birch, weaving around the trees like a brown mountain stream. Then out again and into a green valley, splashing up the Cloghoge River. The blue water of Lough Tay gleamed ahead. Over it loomed the high cliffs of Luggala. Dana could never have scaled that talus of scree alone, yet up it she sped, along with the others, hind’s feet in high places , scattering the loose stones in a cloud of gray dust.
Over the open summit of Luggala they charged and down its western slope, then upward again in another ascent. It wasn’t till they reached the top of Knocknacloghoge that the herd finally halted. Pressing against Dana, they butted her gently to say good-bye.
“Thank you, thank you,” she kept repeating, already saddened at their parting.
Then the deer sped off down the hillside, the way they had come.
As Dana looked around her, she saw how far the herd had brought her and almost cried with gratitude. They had done in an hour what would have taken her the day. But now as she gazed into the west, toward her destination, she felt a cold grip on the back of her neck. What was that on the horizon?
Shielding her eyes against the sunlight, she squinted into the distance. For a moment she could hardly believe what she saw. Then she remembered the Lady’s pomade and knew that it was working. For there amidst the granite spine of the highlands was the silhouette of a sleeping giant. The gigantic body was made of rock and earth, covered with blanket bog. Its face was craggy, yet it did not seem unkind. Was this King Lugh? His head rested against Lugnaquillia as if it were a pillow. But if it was he, what could have made him close his borders and lie down among the mountains?
Even as she studied the sleeping giant, he underwent a change. Storm clouds gathered in the sky above him, making his features look dark and strained. As rain poured down, streams of water ran over his face as if he were weeping. Then the clouds moved on and sunshine broke out and he smiled in his sleep. Dana was bewildered. Was she imagining it all?
There was
They stiffened at her arrival. Heads up, ears pricked, soft eyes staring, antlers branching: a great herd of wild deer.
She could see they were shy and a little nervous, yet they didn’t bolt. She stood still herself, not wanting to startle them. One of the does ventured forward and nuzzled her hand. The others followed after and Dana was surrounded by a wild sweet smell as they jostled her gently. She sensed they were about to run and that they wanted her to run with them.
“Not sure I can,” she murmured anxiously.
Then they breathed on her, their warm green grassy breath, and a whisper echoed through her mind. Follow the greenway . She felt a tingling in her legs. Her muscles began to twitch. Her feet pushed her upward till she was standing on her tiptoes. Now the knowledge surged through her like the green sap of spring: she could be one of them.
Oh the joy of running with the deer! Hind’s feet in high places . Supple pelts rippled alongside her, rising and falling like tawny waves. Hooves drummed and thrummed upon the earth. All ran with one mind as if of one body. At the heart of the herd, she too ran wildly, her humanity shed like clothes in the wind. She was still two-legged, but her feet were cloven and antlers jutted from her brow, and her heart beat with the wild heart of the herd.
Up the airy mountain and down the rushy glen .
The landscape blurred around them with the speed of their passing. Hurtling downhill in a blind descent, they kicked up stones and soil behind them. Now they plunged into a dark forest of oak and birch, weaving around the trees like a brown mountain stream. Then out again and into a green valley, splashing up the Cloghoge River. The blue water of Lough Tay gleamed ahead. Over it loomed the high cliffs of Luggala. Dana could never have scaled that talus of scree alone, yet up it she sped, along with the others, hind’s feet in high places , scattering the loose stones in a cloud of gray dust.
Over the open summit of Luggala they charged and down its western slope, then upward again in another ascent. It wasn’t till they reached the top of Knocknacloghoge that the herd finally halted. Pressing against Dana, they butted her gently to say good-bye.
“Thank you, thank you,” she kept repeating, already saddened at their parting.
Then the deer sped off down the hillside, the way they had come.
As Dana looked around her, she saw how far the herd had brought her and almost cried with gratitude. They had done in an hour what would have taken her the day. But now as she gazed into the west, toward her destination, she felt a cold grip on the back of her neck. What was that on the horizon?
Shielding her eyes against the sunlight, she squinted into the distance. For a moment she could hardly believe what she saw. Then she remembered the Lady’s pomade and knew that it was working. For there amidst the granite spine of the highlands was the silhouette of a sleeping giant. The gigantic body was made of rock and earth, covered with blanket bog. Its face was craggy, yet it did not seem unkind. Was this King Lugh? His head rested against Lugnaquillia as if it were a pillow. But if it was he, what could have made him close his borders and lie down among the mountains?
Even as she studied the sleeping giant, he underwent a change. Storm clouds gathered in the sky above him, making his features look dark and strained. As rain poured down, streams of water ran over his face as if he were weeping. Then the clouds moved on and sunshine broke out and he smiled in his sleep. Dana was bewildered. Was she imagining it all?
There was