The Lion's Passage - A Short Story

THE LION'S PASSAGE
by Lauren Zimmerman

Copyright  2014: Lauren Zimmerman
All rights reserved.

Published by nLight Press
www.nlightpress.com
Dedicated to the spiritual evolution of Humankind.

THE LION'S PASSAGE

She padded softly along the narrow path that stretched around the mountain like a spiraling ribbon. So narrow was the path that her ribs brushed the ancient solidity of the massive wall of rock. With her left, moccasined foot, she felt for a solid foothold among the small boulders that kept her from tumbling over the edge. It was a 4,000 foot fall. She would fall to her death. Undaunted, she moved forward, craving her destination. Willing to risk it all to reach it.

The crystal blue light that seemed to emanate from the crest of the mountain had beckoned her since childhood. Its mystery had consumed her daily. She remembered the first night she had witnessed it. It had called to her in her dreams that night. The following day she had waited for night to fall, hoping to catch a glimpse of what might only have been a dream. A distant, ethereal light that seemed to reach from this world to another. Another that she could not see but that her heart knew was somewhere out there. Out beyond that which she knew. Out beyond that which she could see. Out beyond that which seemed to imprison her.

The village had fallen silent as the day eased to an end. She finished her nightly chores and, perhaps for the first time ever, didn't squabble with her parents when they ordered her to bed. Shortly after donning her flannel night clothes, she had tiptoed to the tiny window. Drawing the tiny, ragged curtain away from the dull glass, she had peered across the landscape toward the massive mountain that shadowed her small town.

Like a beacon, the blue light seemed to come from the interior of the mountain, shining like a reaching arm into the sky. Reaching for what, she wondered. It was that question that drove her. It became an insatiable thirst. She must find a way to uncover the secrets of the mountain. But it was the tallest mountain in the land. And she was only a child.

She began to train daily, marching across the nearby hills, up and down, up and down, pushing herself to her physical limits after her morning chores were finished. Her parents, too busy, or perhaps too tired, to pay much attention, turned a blank eye to her small knapsack, the jar of water she kept there, and the small stash of nuts and seeds she hoarded like a chill-driven squirrel.

As she'd grown older, she began gathering material to make herself a larger backpack. She sewed the pieces together with threads of thick twine that were given to her by the village shop keepers. None of them questioned the strange girl with the wild hair and the gleam in her eyes that spoke to the fact that she dreamed of other worlds. Worlds far beyond the reaches of the tiny village that sat quietly in one of the most beautiful places on Earth.

The day finally came when she knew that she would face the daunting task of the climb upward. Spring had brought a hint of warmth to the air. Quietly, she pushed her few belongings into the depths of her backpack, covered them with her few items of clothing, and fought with her rushes of excitement and fear. She dressed warmly, knowing it would be colder on the mountain. Feeling a thrill of the unknown run up her spine, she glanced for the final time through the dull glass of her tiny window, and went to tell her parents goodbye. As though they expected her departure, maybe even thought that she had left them long ago, they each gave her a brief hug, a pat on her thin shoulder, and a quick goodbye. As she walked away from the narrow doorway for her last time, she turned to wave goodbye. But they had already turned to their daily tasks. Straightening her shoulders, she turned back to face her future, as uncertain as it was.

Crossing the pasture range that separated the village from the base of the great mountain, she paused only once, taking her water bottle from her pack and sipping from it thoughtfully. Tilting her head back, she stared up at her destination. The daunting mountain seemed much taller, much more lethal, than it had seemed from her tiny window. Capping her bottle, pushing it into her sack, she continued on, tripping occasionally on the rocks that were strewn around the mountain's base. Were they there to deter her, she wondered at one point, stopping to rub her tired ankles.

Undeterred, she marched on. Soon the first step on to the winding path that would lead her into the unknown was upon her. She turned briefly to look back at the life she'd left behind. From this distance, there was only silence. The daily sounds that had been oddly comforting as well as irritating were far too distant to be heard. The rattle of wagon wheels. The call of one shopkeeper to another. The shouts of the occasional voices raised in anger. The squeals of children fighting over toys. All were now silent memories, ghosts of a past that seemed far removed. Nodding to herself, silently acknowledging that the world she had left behind was no longer hers, she took her first step on to the narrow, ribbon-like path that spun itself around the mountain.



The years passed. The child was gone. A woman now walked in the moccasins that seemed to never fray. They had become her companions. Something she trusted as the soft material allowed her to curl her feet around the rough edges of rocks that served to stop her occasional slips upon the mountain's edge. As she'd come to know the mountain, it had served up the infrequent cave, surprising her as she turned a corner, expecting the flat surface of the stone wall to be her brace, only to find a gaping wound etched deeply into the wall of the massive boulders. She often fantasized that bolts of lightning had ripped through the stone in an effort to shine its light into the darkness.

Bemused, she always set her fears aside and walked boldly into the pitch-black depths of every cave, hoping perhaps that the mountain would give her its secrets, knowing all the while that it would not. In every cave she had found a wolf. She had befriended each. They were so sleek and so beautiful she had lost her heart to them immediately. Many of them were wounded. Her hands, her love, sealed their scars, soothed them, made them let go of their pain and sleep.

In the depths of the caves she had sat and leaned her back against the cold walls. The wolves had come and laid their heads upon her lap. Her heart trilling with her love for them, she had stroked the ever-so-soft fur upon their heads, run her strong heads over their hearts, hoping, always hoping, that they would feel the love coursing through her fingers. It seemed imperative for her that they know the depths of her heart, just as they knew the depths of their own cave.

Were they wild things? Or was she? Fate brought baskets of distrust and laid them at her feet and soon she was gone. Every time leaving the depths of black, stepping into the light of day, stepping on to the strap-like ledge leading upward. Her tears fell over the mountainside, staining it with regret.

It was a deceptively sunny day, aching with cold, that brought the realization to her. Or was it only fantasy? She felt she had become the mountain. She was the light reaching for an unseen world. Was it true?

She wondered. If she was the mountain, if she was the source of the light, where had she hidden the secrets? Of what origin was this light? Could she find its source if she was hiding it even from herself? It had been years. She was weary. Her soul's bones ached. Exhausted, she sank down upon the narrow path and leaned against the stone-cold wall. In the distance, a wolf howled.

Having dozed where she had fallen, the next day dawned by giving her a taste of hope. Renewed, she stood and made her way along the path, ever upward. Rounding a corner, her eyes gave her the vision of yet another cave. The sight was tantalizing. A place to rest. Fresh water coursing along the back wall, coming from the cold depths of the great mountain. Turning away from the temptation, she stared across the landscape. Too far below to be heard, a river ran swiftly, jumping and pounding over moss-covered boulders. Eagles flew, brushing their wings across the sky. A sun-touched rainbow danced briefly with a distant waterfall.

Sensing that she was being watched, she turned. Ebony-black eyes, sparking with thoughts unspoken, stared at her from the mouth of the cave. The wolf's coat looked as though it hadn't been groomed in a moon's age. He had one paw lifted from the ground. She could see the pain in his eyes. She could see many things in his eyes. Her heart twisting with 'no,' she held out her hand to him even as the tears of many memories coursed through her. Trusting, he rested his chin in her hand briefly before lifting his head again and looking into her eyes. As her eyes met his, they knew each other. Through time and space and beyond anything comprehensible, they knew each other.

They stayed a while, she and the wolf. Not as long as with some of the others, but longer than eternity, for they became as one, fused through infinity. Fused through pain and fused through healing. Her touch healed him. His touch healed her.

They would travel to the top of the mountain together. They would find the source of the light. She told him about it during the silence of the nights, whispering of the hope she knew would be there. Would be there at the source. In the black of the night, his dark eyes shined. His light from within, she thought, and she reveled in it. The moon cried when she wasn't looking.

The day came when they would leave in search of the source. Her heart thrilled. Her hope soared. Stepping from the black of the cave into the day's light, she stretched her arms heavenward, as if embracing an unseen world. She dragged her pack into the light, rearranged its contents, and shrugged the weight of it onto her back. Soaking up the warmth of the sun, she waited, content.

The sun climbed high into the sky. She waited. It drifted down the other side of the world. And she waited. The freeze of the night took her to the edges of her own life. And she waited. She came to know the new silence well as the days passed. Incapable of moving, or even breathing, she waited. She was waiting for herself, she knew. They had become one, fused into infinity, destined to share eternity's breath. And yet still she waited.

She did not know that a year had passed. Time and life had frozen into a permanent grimace of acceptance. The sun took on a life of its own and tapped her, not so gently, waking her from her frozen sleep. Shaking inside and out, she shook herself awake. The only memory she had was of the light that streamed from the mountaintop. She turned her head, gazing upward. Her destination seemed closer than she had imagined it would be. The mountain's summit seemed to reach down in an effort to guide her. It was so close she could almost touch it. The sun's rays danced. With shaky legs, she stood. She felt the mountain's strength course through her, as though it were her life's blood. Revitalized, she reached up to grab the single branch of a forgotten tree and pulled herself up to the next foothold of the path. She tested the stone she was stepping to, wondering if it would hold. It did. The power of her own walk took over. Steadily she climbed. All doubt about reaching her destination, her fate, dissolved.

She didn't look back. She didn't look down. She stepped into the grandeur of the mountain's light. It reached upward. She reached upward. Another world engulfed her, swept her into the power of a peace she had never known.

"What is the source," she whispered to the mountain.

"You," the mountain answered.





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