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Stewards of the White Circle
Calm
Before the
Storm
by
JT Brewer
This book is a work of fiction. Naming, characters, places and incidents are either products of the authors’ imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Text copyright © 2011 by
Judeen and Terry Brewer
Cover design © 2011 by
Christopher D. Brewer
Published in eBook format by eBookIt.com
ISBN-13: 978-1-4566-0613-8
All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever.
This story is dedicated
to Thornton W. Burgess,
who awakened many a child’s curiosity and love for
animals;
and to Mother Nature,
Who knows nothing is impossible.
Acknowledgements
Writing a book begins with an idea that just won’t let you sleep at night and buzzes in your ear until you write it down. You can try to ignore it, slap at it and mutter unkind remarks, but it evades them all. In the end, it cannot be denied and you are its captive.
JT Brewer has been scratching this itch for more years than either of us would care to admit. Along the way, we have learned that in spite of all our hard effort we could never have gotten this book done by ourselves.
We wish to thank our long-suffering family and friends who have listened tirelessly to us talking about this thing ad nauseum and who have offered many helpful comments and suggestions. We thank our son, Chris Brewer, for his marvelous cover art; and our daughter Robin Lambert, and our friend, Annette Boren, who proofread every dot and tittle of the text. They are both every bit as perfectionist and detail-oriented as Anna Dawn Hamlyn. If any errors remain, they are not at fault.
Special thanks to two of our dearest comrades in arms, Mike and Bonnie Ramsdell. They have nursed us through the headaches, cheered us through the doldrums and plowed the road when the time finally came to get the beast “out there.”
Now, though this is somewhat tacky and more than a little unconventional, we must acknowledge and thank each other. As a husband and wife team, we could neither have completed this work without the other. We have kept each other going through discouragement and rewrites, laughing and crying and crossing each other’s fingers all the way to the printer.
We wish to thank the Maker for marvelous creations that never cease to inspire us. How did He do all this, anyway? We do not know. We are just glad He did and delight in enjoying the fruit of His labors.
Finally, thanks to you, kind reader, for buying this book. We hope you will not only enjoy this little journey, but be left wanting more at the end. More is soon to come.
PROLOGUE
In a hidden valley high within the arms of the Colorado Rockies, an old man sat in the glow of a setting sun on a large, flat, granite boulder and stroked a weasel’s back. They had had quite a lovely conversation about earthworms and birds eggs and such, and how much it missed them. Now the weasel was content to lay on the man’s lap like a kitten and let the Mind Caller pet it like one.
A red fox curled at his feet like a dog. Earlier, before the weasel had chanced along and interrupted them, the old man and the vixen had enjoyed a long talk themselves concerning the kits: how one was a rascal and the other two good as gold, and how fast they were growing. Now that the weasel was content, the old man resumed the first conversation.
And how mends the broken paw, sharp-nose? the old man sent to the fox’s mind. Unfortunate, you running into a gopher hole like that.
So stupid of me! the vixen wove back. You would think I have no better sense than my kits! My mate will never let me hear the end of it.
Here in the Valley of Travelers, no one is stupid, the old man retorted gently. But accidents still happen. If you were a normal fox, you would require a month to heal and your family would suffer for it. Fortunately, you are not a normal fox. You are mending much more rapidly than would one of them. There are advantages to being a Traveler. Consider yourself lucky to be here.
The fox raised her head and looked at him keenly. I consider myself more than lucky, she sent. I am blessed. Why you chose my progenitors to live here and join the Travelers, I do not know. But I do know I am grateful.
There was a pause where neither spoke, each lost in their own thoughts.
Then the fox sent, Is it true that many will die?
Yes…. I am sorry, that is true … for both animals and humans. However, we will save all that we can. The old man paused, then added, I will find him you know—the Shepherd.
The vixen cocked its ears. Of course you will. The question is, will you find him in time?
The Maker willing, yes, the old man sent. I wait upon His guidance. He will lead me and show me where to look.
So, will I be one to make the Great Journey? the fox asked. For as long as I can remember and for generations before I was born, the foxes here have talked of it. It was always going to happen, someday. To think it might happen now, in my time … frightens me.
Come here, dear one, the old man sent, laying the weasel gently aside and beckoning the fox to take its place. The weasel stretched and moved away, allowing the fox room on the old man’s lap.
The man affectionately rubbed the fox’s head. The Storm approaches, he sent, and it will arrive all too soon. We must be ready for it when it comes. If we miss this opportunity, all is lost. All we have built here in this Valley will have been for naught. In answer to your question … yes, it will come in your lifetime; but it will be your kits, not you, that make the Great Journey.
May I tell them that? she sent.
Yes, but I would wait until they are older. They are still too young now to understand.
Will it be dangerous, this journey? she asked. Will my kits be in peril?
All life is peril, the old man sent. But with faith, we face it.
The fox looked away, her golden eyes bright in the light of the sinking sun. I will not tell them of the danger, she sent, but I will tell them they have the greatest honor of all. They will save our kind.
So they shall, the old man sent. So they shall … but so shall you, in your own way.
He motioned for the fox to hop down. She did so and he rose to his feet. I must be going, he sent to both animals. I have work to do: other Valleys to visit and a Shepherd to find.
Peace to you, the animals sent.
Peace to you, the old man returned and then he vanished, just as the sun hid behind the hills.
The fox and weasel looked at each other, then went their separate ways. A deer standing a short distance off watched the fox approach. As the fox trotted by it asked, What did the Mind Caller say to you?
He said the Storm is coming, she replied.
Ah, the stag sent back, thoughtfully. At last.