Gentle Stream

Her feet stepped lightly, gingerly, as she made her way slowly down the slight embankment towards the gentle flowing stream below. Occasionally, she would pause to listen, to sense, for sounds that would indicate danger. The forest was normally quiet this time of the day and it was probably instinct that led her to this spot with some regularity. Despite the place being somewhat familiar to her, the ability to reflect upon that was not something with which she had been naturally endowed; but being alert and aware of sounds was.

She paused again and listened. Nothing but the sound of gentle, flowing water. She continued down to the water’s edge and as she bowed down to drink, her ears turned outward, and she never stopped listening.

Something shining in the water a few metres in front of her made her stop drinking and lift her head slightly. Her eyes fastened on it as if mesmerised, a trait not uncommon to her kind; but what she was looking at did not register to her. If she could have, she would have thought on the sight, wondered at it. Perhaps she would have ventured out the small way and picked it up; but that was impossible for her.

The thing shone gently and despite the gaze and attention it had gained from her, she eventually lost interest and finished drinking.

After a short time, the deer made her way back up the embankment and into the trees beyond while the object shone on in the gentle water.

-

Porter Bailey breathed in deeply through her nose as she gazed upon the sunrise which cast its early shadows across the freshly fallen snow. She was glad. The snow was not too deep to make the journey more difficult than it needed to be.

Meooowww.

Porter smiled and looked down near her feet as Maxine, her blue-point Siamese cat rubbed its head against her ankle.

“Good morning, Maxine.”

As if to answer, Maxine let out a short meow and then headed towards her food bowl.

“I’m going to see it today, Maxine. I’m going to find out why – “

Porter paused briefly as the memory of the latest dream flashed through her mind.

“Why it calls to me.”

Maxine turned her head back from breakfast to cast a brief look at Porter and then resumed eating.

“You behave yourself, Maxine, I’ll be back soon.”

Porter gazed into the forest that bordered her house, white with snow and still as a painting. They had moved here, Maxine and her, a few years ago. The city life had finally taken its toll on, well, everything. Mostly it was the stress. The clock. The deadlines. Charlie had departed, leaving a substantial amount in his will for her. Porter smiled faintly as she remembered her brother’s face and the last words he had uttered before his passing.

“Be still, Porter.”

Charlie’s words rested in her heart like a barn owl atop a loft. Still, small, but full of an energy belying its outward appearance. Like those words, three of them, yet carrying inside a wisdom that expanded far beyond the hospital ward – and even Porter’s own mind.

Porter took her first steps toward the trees, boots breaking the surface of the snow with a familiar crunch that almost echoed in the silence of the air around the property.

Her brother’s words had done more than become an abstract comfort or source of intrigue, they had been the catalyst for a change, as if igniting something within her soul that had become as cold and motionless as the snowy landscape, she currently made her way across. This had led to the house near the forest. Retirement had grown sweet here and Porter rested in the comfort of the nature around her; the starry sky at night, the beautiful glow of a moonlit night as Maxine curled up near the fire during the winter months.

Summer teemed with life and Porter spent hours reading while rocking slowly in her chair, glancing up every so often to catch a glimpse of an eagle making its way across the sky above the trees or watching the leaves rustle while caressed by a gentle breeze.

Yet for all of this, which she was indeed thankful for, there had been a restless longing within her, especially in the last few weeks, when they started.

The dreams.

Porter’s heart almost skipped a beat as she snapped back into the here and now. A deer stood ahead of her, meeting her gaze. It certainly was anything but menacing, but its sudden appearance, well, Porter’s aging heart was more than a little surprised by it.

“It is you.”

In a moment after seeing her new companion not three or four metres ahead, Porter realised she had seen it before. At least, an image of it.

In the dream, she had been walking in the forest, just like she was now. She had fallen in that version though and as she got to her feet, the deer had appeared in similar fashion. As Porter gazed into its eyes, she saw something reflected in them. When she had woken, her hand, slightly shaking, reached for the glass of water that rested on the table next to the bed. As she sipped and recalled the dream, the image she had seen in those eyes became less and less clear the more she tried to remember it.

Here though, in real life, that image was clear to her eyes. Porter kept staring as the animal did so in turn. The image seemed to shine with a life of its own. Yes, a life. Somehow, Porter’s very spirit registered a response to what she saw and while it did not shine with much power to the physical forest around her, within, it glowed brightly.

I must follow.

Porter stepped, one foot in front of the other, as if anything more would startle her companion. But the deer seemed at peace with her presence and as it turned, walking off slowly, Porter’s heart continued to lift in an anticipation that made her instinctively quicken her pace.

The sound of the deer’s feet on the snow was little more than a whisper, yet Porter found it enough in the crisp stillness of the morning air. Her boots in the snow could not even drown out the delicate noise. It all seemed impossible, but Porter put those thoughts aside. The dream had ended the same each night, but this was now the opportunity to discover its meaning, even if it meant suspension of “normality” for a moment.

Running water. A stream. Porter followed the deer over a gentle rise, her 75 year old legs surprisingly steady as she made her way over it to a stream that flowed quietly near the hill. Sunlight, making its way through the trees in splinters, danced across the surface of the stream like lights a ball gown at a fancy affair.

The deer made its way to the edge of the stream, as it had done the day before. This time, however, it darted off into the trees beyond in such a sudden fashion that it disturbed twigs and leaves, as well as causing Porter to, temporarily, lose her peace.

“Be still, Porter,” she said as she took in a deliberate, but stilted breath.

Heartbeat rising slightly in tune with the scampering deer, Porter edged closer to the water’s edge and lifted her eyes.

There it was.

The object shone with a glow that drew Porter nearer and nearer. Ignoring the dampness she now felt as the water of the stream rose above her ankles, filling her boots, Porter Bailey reached out to touch it.

-

Meoowww.

Maxine purred as she curled up at Porter’s feet. The fire burned steadily as they both stared into its flames which danced in the reflection of the two sets of eyes. Porter sipped her coffee, placing the cup back on the side table as she gently reached down to pat Maxine’s head, which was now nestled upon her two paws.

Taking in a slow breath, Porter turned to the window across the room, and stared out to the moon that had cast its gentle light through the panes. She turned back to the fire as she reached her hand into her cardigan pocket, pulling out the glowing object she had taken from the stream, sitting it in the centre of her hand.

In the silence of the night, the barn owls voice made its way through the walls to Porters ears, and she smiled while gazing at the light in her hand. After several minutes, she placed the object back into her pocket, leaned back in her chair and fell to sleep.

Maxine had woken briefly, moments earlier, and stared at the object that glowed gently in her master’s hand. Like the deer previously, Maxine could process very little of what she saw. She could not know what it was that made the gentle light. She had not comprehension nor ability to enquire as to its origin or how it had come to be here. No, Maxine just stared for a while and then rested her head back on her paws as the fire burned on gently.

As she dreamed, Porter saw the reflection again in the eyes of the deer. This time, the vision was as clear as she had seen it after taking the object from the snow chilled stream.

Within its diamond like shape, glowing with a light of their own, were three small words.

“Be still, Porter.”

The barn owl voiced again, and the deer of the forest turned its ear to hear briefly, then walked off into the night. Maxine, eyes closed, extended one paw, letting it fall limp as she turned her head onto it as the fire gently burned on.