Post by mistytail on Oct 18, 2012 7:32:53 GMT -10
The midday sun filtered through the tall trees, dappling the grass with lovely yellow spots. Birds chirruped and darted about to and fro, and the chittering of squirrels and mice could be heard over the hum of insects.
What a perfect day for healing, thought the gray-pelted wanderer. He heartily trotted along, skipping over tree roots and stopping to look at things he found interesting or beautiful, like a furry bee sitting on a flower, or a vole burrowing into the earth. It really was amazing, he thought, the tiny business of the forest and all the little goings-on that one could miss with the blink of an eye. In any other cat, this vigilance would be the sign of a good hunter or a mistrustful fighter, constantly searching for a meal or keeping watch for enemies.
But not him, no, ma'am. He loved these small beauties and wonders too much to think of harming them, and would not lay a paw on another cat if it could be helped. A cowardly retreat with no bloodshed was always more noble than a righteous killing.
A loud, squeaky set of chirps could be heard above him, and the loner tipped his head up, sunlight beaming down on his white muzzle. A tiny bird was just learning how to fly, and he watched as it flapped and fell on its tail over and over. Yes, he was assured, courage was not always in the roar of battle, but in the whisper that says, "I will keep trying."
He decided to bed down in the trunk of this tree, and nestled himself in its roots. However, he did not sleep. He simply gave himself a place to think. The mind does wander when one is still; it reaches places in the heart and the spirit it could not by milling through routine day after day. And as his mind wandered, he focused on his name. Gauze. An instrument of healing, his mother told him. A piece of false skin used to heal wounds and ease their pain. How perfectly beautiful, he thought, that long before he could know it, his mission of healing those that needed it was decided.
At that, Gauze felt it would be a good time to meditate. He closed his brown eyes and took deep breaths, ones in direct contrast to the quick, shallow breathing of cats in action. In... Out... In... Out...
The world around him stilled and quieted, and every sound felt longer, like an eternity onto itself. In this state, he could hear and smell anything. He simply listened and waited. Waited for what, he wasn't sure, but patience always paid off. There was something at the end of every wait, no matter how meaningless it seemed.
What a perfect day for healing, thought the gray-pelted wanderer. He heartily trotted along, skipping over tree roots and stopping to look at things he found interesting or beautiful, like a furry bee sitting on a flower, or a vole burrowing into the earth. It really was amazing, he thought, the tiny business of the forest and all the little goings-on that one could miss with the blink of an eye. In any other cat, this vigilance would be the sign of a good hunter or a mistrustful fighter, constantly searching for a meal or keeping watch for enemies.
But not him, no, ma'am. He loved these small beauties and wonders too much to think of harming them, and would not lay a paw on another cat if it could be helped. A cowardly retreat with no bloodshed was always more noble than a righteous killing.
A loud, squeaky set of chirps could be heard above him, and the loner tipped his head up, sunlight beaming down on his white muzzle. A tiny bird was just learning how to fly, and he watched as it flapped and fell on its tail over and over. Yes, he was assured, courage was not always in the roar of battle, but in the whisper that says, "I will keep trying."
He decided to bed down in the trunk of this tree, and nestled himself in its roots. However, he did not sleep. He simply gave himself a place to think. The mind does wander when one is still; it reaches places in the heart and the spirit it could not by milling through routine day after day. And as his mind wandered, he focused on his name. Gauze. An instrument of healing, his mother told him. A piece of false skin used to heal wounds and ease their pain. How perfectly beautiful, he thought, that long before he could know it, his mission of healing those that needed it was decided.
At that, Gauze felt it would be a good time to meditate. He closed his brown eyes and took deep breaths, ones in direct contrast to the quick, shallow breathing of cats in action. In... Out... In... Out...
The world around him stilled and quieted, and every sound felt longer, like an eternity onto itself. In this state, he could hear and smell anything. He simply listened and waited. Waited for what, he wasn't sure, but patience always paid off. There was something at the end of every wait, no matter how meaningless it seemed.
