Tuesday, August 22, 2006

The Wind raced along the jungle trails, and found
the Tigress.

She was still walking away from the stream.

“Tigress,” whispered the Wind, “stop for a
moment.  Please.”

The Tigress did not stop.  She had walked for three
days as if in a trance.

“Tigress,” repeated the Wind, “Please.  Let us
speak for but a moment.”

The golden-framed one stopped.  But she would
not turn her head to look at the Wind.

The Wind continued, “What is wounding you,
Tigress?  Why do you try to walk away from me?”

The Tigress spoke, “I would have killed the Black
one with this clawed paw of mine.”  She paused.  
“But this very paw meant for killing, somehow… my
claws gave him mercy.”

She hung her head.

The Tigress continued, “Wind… the Black one
deserved to die.  He should have died.  But… I
could not… become like him.”

The Wind whispered, “The Black Tiger does
deserve to die, and that is why I will kill him.  I have
already reduced his territory to only a few message

Now, message trees are those trees that the tigers
use, to encourage each other with claw markings
left within the bark.

The Wind softly spoke, “Tigress, the Black Tiger
measured out judgment to any that he deemed not
as well-disciplined as he, yes?”

“Yes,” replied the Tigress.  “Only the undisciplined,
the Black one said, would retain the Mark.”

“Tigress,” continued the Wind, “I am measuring
back to the Black one the very same measurement
he used on those that had the Mark –
abandonment, forsaking the weak, and dying
without comfort.”

The Tigress did not answer.

“Tigress,” continued the Wind, “It did not matter if
the Black one was cof the Black one was correct or
incorrect in his opinion about the Mark.  What
matters is that I am measuring back to him what he
measured out to others.  Do you understand?”

The Tigress still refused to look at the Wind.  But
she held perfectly still.

“Tigress,” whispered the Wind, “you are not like
the Black one.  You felt the pain that you would
cause, and you gave mercy instead.”

The Tigress still did not answer.

“Tigress,” whispered the Wind, “Stop.  You are not
evil thing you might have become.”

The Tigress did not move, but slowly opened her
mouth, as if searching for words.

“Please,” whispered the Wind, as if the Wind were
wounded by the silence, “Don’t let a glimpse of your
own evil, drive you away from me.”

The Tigress took a deep breath.  She sighed, “I
know that you taught me that ‘measurement’ was
a more important truth than the ‘cause of the

“Yes,” replied the Wind.

“I know that I swore I’d never kill the Black one,
years ago.”

“Yes,” replied the Wind.

“But three days ago, I was almost like him… wasn’t
I?” whispered the Tigress.  “I longed to kill him, just
as he lusted to kill me so long ago.”

“Almost like him, Tigress… but not quite,” said the
Wind, “You measured out mercy, instead of
judgment, which is something the Black Tiger can
no longer understand.”

The Tigress seemed to think about the words of the

Neither Wind nor Tigress spoke for a time.

“Wind,” finally whispered the Tigress, “did I ever
tell you… that you were stubborn?”

“No!” chided the Wind in mock disagreement, “Why,
you've never called me ‘stubborn’.”

“Never?” asked the Tigress.

“Well,” replied the Wind, “At least not for three

And then, the Tigress almost laughed.

Slowly, she turned around, and the Wind and the
Tigress walked towards the territory that they
shared in the depths of the jungle.

Monday, 28 August 2006

“Tigress,” said the Wind one day, “Where is your

“I do not know,” replied the Tigress.

[For the tigers do not keep husbands or wives, as
the people-ones do.  Rather, the tigers find another
tiger that gives them a sense of completion.  In a
simple ceremony, only witnessed by the Wind, each
tiger says, “My claws are forever with yours; I will
hunt forever by your side.” Thus, the tigers then
say, “We are Bound-mates” for they believe that
tigers are always bound by their words.]

“Come now, Tigress,” said the Wind.  “Your Bound-
mate is not by your side.”

“Distance matters not to the tigers,” replied the

“Tis true,” said the Wind.  And then the Wind
continued, “but ‘I will hunt forever by your side’
was not speaking of physical distance, yes?”

“Wind,” replied the Tigress, “why are you bothering
me with this?  My Bound-mate is wherever the trail

“Is she ‘by your side’, Tigress?” asked the Wind.  
“Do you sense her there?”

The Tigress looked directly at the Wind, and replied,
    “I walk through the jungle alone;
    I walk towards the cliffs alone;
    I claw the Message trees alone;
    I race the Four-feet alone;
    I serve the Wind alone;
    I will face death alone.”

“Why,” said the Wind, “Do you answer me with the
Song of Separation?  From where did you learn it?”

“I learned it during a Storm,” replied the Tigress,
“And the words seemed to sum up my relationship
with my Bound-mate.  I did not even know it was a

“And,” asked the Wind, “Did these words from the
Storm bring your relationship any healing?”

“No!” replied the Tigress, “But they strike me as
true words.”

“No?” stated the Wind.  “And yet, you mull these
words over in your mind?”

“Yes!” growled the Tigress.

The Wind stopped for a moment.  The Tigress
realized that she was moving into the position of
strike-and-kill.  She stopped moving, and then sat

Then, the Wind spoke, “I will speak to the Storm
myself.  But Tigress, beware his words.”

The Tigress stayed sitting… yet the words would
not cease turning in her mind.

Thursday, August 31, 2006

Evening finally came, and the Tigress moved into a
patch of deep bamboo forest to sleep.  She could
hear any enemy, and any noise at all thanks to the
dry leaves that the gold rods of tall bamboo
dropped to the jungle floor – they would snap and
crackle even under the touch of single peacock

The “song” kept sounding in her mind, low,
guttural, almost swirling like a small storm
surrounding the beats of her heart, as if somehow,
her heart was being surrounded by every line:
    “I walk through the jungle alone;
    I walk towards the cliffs alone;
    I claw the Message trees alone;
    I race the Four-feet alone;
    I serve the Wind alone;
    I will face death alone.”

And then, her golden eyes closed, and she fell

“Four breezes, come now.” Whispered the Wind, as
she blew gently by the Tigress.

Slipping between the bamboo, came four small
breezes, each one circled before the Wind, softly

“Watch over the one I love.” Stated the Wind.

The four breezes paused as if listening, and then
each took position around the Tigress.

Then the Wind spoke more strongly, “Read her
heart, while I attend to someone.”

Each of the four breezes cast one drop of water
each on the fur of the Tigress.  The four drops
glistened for but a moment, and then slipped
between the lines of colored fur.  The drops then
touched skin and stood still, as dry land resists
water for only a moment, and then each drop was
absorbed into her skin and blood.

The Wind then rose into the sky.

Churning with anger, the Wind rose yet higher.

A large rain cloud saw the rising Wind, and joyfully
lifted up an offering of rainbows.

The Wind ascended even higher.

Two thin clouds of the night saw the Wind, and held
out small ice crystals as tribute.

The Wind ascended all the more higher.

Churning and turning, the Wind scanned the entire
jungle.  There, in a valley, the Wind saw her prey –
a small Storm cloud of black tempest rain.

The Wind then descended down, faster and faster,
towards the small Storm cloud.

The two thin clouds bowed to her immediately, and
then fled to other regions.

The Wind descended further, crackling the air with

The rain cloud saw the Wind’s descent, and broke
into four pieces to flee in every direction.

The tall trees of the valley that reached high into
the night sky suddenly bent and quaked as the
Wind tore into the valley with the force of a
hurricane.  Birds were knocked out of the trees;
and the monkeys screamed, holding onto long
branches and their young ones.

The Storm turned, and screamed out as the Wind
approached her, “Are you come to torment us? It is
not the appointed time!”

But it was too late, for the Wind ripped into the
blackness of the Storm!  The electricity of the Wind’
s own white static tore into the blackness, and the
Storm replied with strikes of blue electricity!  Each
churned within the other – clear night Wind with
heavy black Storm.  Twisting, turning, covering,
pressure on, pressure off, and then, the Storm sent
one last bolt of blue electricity into the sky, as if
trying to wound the Wind.

The Wind then spoke with the voice of thunder, “All
power in heaven and in earth is given to me!”

And then, the Wind paused.  The trees stopped
shaking.  The birds on the ground huddled
together, and the monkeys ceased screaming.

“Go.” Said the Wind, with a voice as firm and final
as any King or Queen of the people-ones.

And then the black Storm, began to churn as if the
pressures of the air had drained its strength, as if
the very word “Go” had taken over control of the
boundaries of blackness that it had owned.  

The black Storm screamed, and then, released its
rain, as if lowering itself to one knee, on the forest
carefully below.  The rain was brief and heavy, and
then, just as suddenly, done.

And then, the black Storm seemed to crawl away
quietly, as frightened but surviving doe-brooks
carefully, and respectfully move away from the
Tigress when they see her in a killing rage.


(c) Copyright Caryn LeMur 2006
(C) Copyright 2006 Caryn LeMur
The Wind And The Tigress

August #2, 2006