The following day came soon enough, heralded by the calls of the birds and the light trickling gently into the nest Lilanthro had made for herself. She awoke with an unsettled, knotted feeling in her stomach. Today was the day, the third day in which she would visit the villagers, the day she would find out whether they wanted her presence or not. She had shared her dance, her songs and her stories, now she had nothing left to share with them. Her mood was tinged by an edge of fear. Fear of judgement and fear of rejection. She felt safe when she danced, safe when she sang and safe when she weaved her light-filled stories of living. They were what she knew, they were part of her very essence, they connected her with something so strong, deep and alive that nothing else mattered, not even her shyness. But today she would meet the villagers once more without the magic of her dance, song or words to enchant their spirits, and she had no idea how they would react.

Lilanthro spent the day with Talas in the safe cocoon of his garden. He was, as ever, acutely aware of her state of being and treated her with an all-embracing acceptance that soothed her. He did not talk much, and did not ask her to talk, but he remained near her and encouraged her to engage herself in the daily tasks of tending to the garden.

Lilanthro realised how much she had regressed to being that timid, feral girl who had first appeared in his garden, seemingly so long ago. How scared she had been then, how scared and confused and full of conflicting emotions. It had been the start of a long road of learning about being human, navigating the complexities of human thought and feeling, and touching lightly upon the deep mystery lying behind the ephemeral world of form. Talas had taught her many things and she had grown immeasurably from his teachings. But now, and she could not help but laugh at herself as she thought this, now she had come full circle and felt as if she was beginning her lessons all over again, as if she had never learned them. Talas noticed her moment of self-amusement and gave a gently questioning glance, inviting her to share her thoughts with him.

She accepted.”How can it be that I have learnt so much and yet now feel as if I have forgotten it completely?” She asked.

“Aha!” Talas replied, “Now that is a challenge which many people stumble over. The secret is that this is just how it is meant to be. The things in life which we most need to learn have to be learnt many times over, in an almost endless cycle. Each time we learn it, the learning sinks a little deeper into our being, and only eventually does it sit so deeply in our core that we no longer have to relearn it, it has just become us. You will feel like a timid, confused, unknowing child so many times in your life young Lilanthro; welcome each moment of this for it means the lesson is sinking in ever more deeply.”

Lilanthro smiled and nodded. “Yes, I can sense that is how it is, I just forgot for a moment because my veil of fear clouded my sight. I remember now, I will dance with the fear so that it releases its hold on me… Thank you for the reminder!”

For the rest of the day, Lilanthro felt her strength, fluidity of being and confidence returning. Her fears evaporated and she accepted what lay ahead, whatever the outcome may be. That evening, as the day was once again loosening its grip on the world and allowing the night to take its hold, Lilanthro returned to the edge of the clearing on the other side of the village from Talas’s garden. When she arrived in the shadows she saw and heard many people ahead of her. As she looked out at the clearing she could see not just the village children waiting for her, but also many of the village adults, standing expectantly in huddled groups. Once more she steadied herself with a deep breath before stepping out of the undergrowth to meet them.

The children gasped excitedly as she walked calmly forwards and the adults became still and silent as she neared them.

“Are you going to sing to us?” Called one boy.

“Can we dance together again, like we did two evenings ago?” Asked a girl.

“I want more stories about the wolves!” Exclaimed another boy.

But Lilanthro shook her head. “My name is Lilanthro,” she said, “I grew up in the forest with the animals and birds for company, far from here. Recently I came to the village and saw humans for the first time. I was scared of you so I hid myself and did not show myself to you, although I did sometimes leave white flowers on your pillows at night as you slept.” There was a murmur from some of the adults as they realised the identity of the mystery giver of flowers. “Then I met Talas and I stayed with him learning many things. With his help I became brave enough to show myself to you. My dance and song and words are all I have to offer. Other than that I know only simple things. I can tend to a garden, I know what plants in the forest are good to eat, I can track animals and I know how to make nests in the trees to sleep safely at night. This is who I am, this is all I am, these are the only things I have to offer. Are they enough for you to accept me as a friend?”

Not all the children understood Lilanthro’s words. One called out, “Why aren’t you singing or dancing for us? That is much more fun!” Other youngsters stood with uncertain faces and fidgeting bodies, wanting to play again and not stand around talking. But a slightly older girl ran to Lilanthro and threw her arms around her saying, “I am your friend. I will show you all around the village and look after you. Do you want to come and see my home?”

With that, many of the older children also went to her, asking to be her friend and urging her to visit their home. The young ones soon caught on, seeing this as a new game in which they could demand attention, and they all ran to Lilanthro, calling out to her and tugging at her. Suddenly, Lilanthro was surrounded by a tornado of children, swirling around her and calling out in ever louder tones. But this did not last long. One by one the adults called the children back to their sides and reluctantly the children left Lilanthro alone in the centre of the ring of villagers. Only two remained, the girl who had run to her side and the boy who had first spotted her two evenings previously, still stood resolutely by her side.

“No!” The boy called out, “She is our friend and we want her here. You can’t tell us not to be friends with her and you can’t make her leave!”

The boy’s father stepped forwards with a patient smile on his face, “My son, it is mischievous of you to ignore your parents calling to you, but courageous of you to stick by your new friend. Lilanthro, on behalf of us all I would like to welcome you to our village. You have shared so much with us, will you now do us the honour of allowing us to share with you and show you our lives and homes?”

“Yes of course, I would be delighted!” exclaimed Lilanthro gladly, holding on tightly to the hands of her two new friends.

“Then maybe you would like to visit Silja’s family this evening, seeing as she asked you first. Tomorrow morning I hope you will visit my family so that my son Onari can talk to you some more, and then I think you will be kept very busy visiting all the other families here.”

And with that, the matter was settled. The children spoke excitedly to their parents urging them to invite Lilanthro to their homes. Not wanting to be left out of this turn of events, the parents all approached Lilanthro, introducing themselves to her and asking her to do them the honour of visiting them soon.

Once this flurry of activity was over, Silja took her hand once more and led her to her parents who stood nervously to one side. Lilanthro remembered their soft, timid natures from her earlier studies of the villagers and she knew they were warm, kind people. She greeted them respectfully and waited for them to invite her home. This they did in a humble yet sincere manner, and together they walked companionably to the family’s hut.

That evening, Lilanthro was treated to a delicious meal, honest heartwarming conversation, and the generous offer of a bed for the night. Realising that she would offend the family if she refused, Lilanthro had the strange experience of sleeping in a bed for the first time, side by side with Silja. As she lay awake in the darkness, listening to the soft sound of Silja’s breathing, Lilanthro marvelled at how it was that she had come to be here.

“I am human!” She thought to herself, “I am human and I have found a new family of humans to live with. I am still the feral girl, who runs with the wolves and knows how to connect to all that is around me. But now I am also Lilanthro, learning about dancing with the veils of my human thoughts and feelings. And I am something other than Lilanthro, just a fleck of silken thread weaving this tapestry of life. What a marvellous journey I am on!”

Then she slept, dreaming of the forest, dreaming of what might lie ahead in the days to come, dreaming of a silken thread endlessly weaving planets, stars and whole galaxies into existence…

TO READ CHAPTER 13 CLICK HERE!

The new day came and the new day went, seemingly uneventfully enough. The villagers went about their daily lives in the usual manner and the children played as they had done every day for many a day. However, there was a buzz of excitement and uncertainty in the air; the talk of the adults was full of questions about the feral girl’s visit and the children’s games were full of dancing.

Lilanthro herself spent the day in nourishing solitude, wandering the forest and reacquainting herself with its mysteries. She walked, she ran and she danced her way through the dark avenues of trees, in and out of clearings with their patches of welcoming sunlight, and across the many streams in her path. She took her time doing exactly what she knew best how to do; being with the forest, feeling its every breath, following its slow, patient pace. Just as the forest ebbed and flowed, so Lilanthro allowed herself to be at times full of movement and at times empty and still. She visited many friends, both animals and plants, and delighted in the purity of their lives. “How simple is life,” she mused, “Yet how hard and complex is the path that humans follow to find that simplicity.”

That evening she returned to the village and passed by Talas’s garden. He sat, looking as ever at peace with himself and the world, talking gently to a tender plant as it delicately closed its petals for the night. Lilanthro was not surprised when he raised his head, looked directly at her standing at the edge of the garden and gave her a wink. “Be on your way White Star, I have a feeling some people are waiting for you.”

Lilanthro smiled, nodded and ran lightly from his garden to the edge of the clearing where the village children were playing. Except, they weren’t playing their usual games. Every single child from the village was there and they sat together in a huddled group facing the forest, looking into its shadows expectantly, eyes darting towards every flicker of movement.

Lilanthro did not want to keep them waiting. She took a deep breath and let out a clear, strong note of sound that expanded as she held it, growing in volume and richness of tone. The children leapt to their feet excitedly. “She’s here, she’s here!” They called to one another as they darted forwards a few steps and then stopped to look and listen again. Lilanthro sang another pearl of sound, allowing this one to trickle from one note to another forming a short melodic line. “She’s going to sing to us!” The children called out as they collectively decided to sit and await her appearance from out of the undergrowth.

They did not wait long. Lilanthro continued her song as she moved confidently without haste out of the shadows and into the clearing. The song began slowly and gently, one note following another, some as single droplets of simple tones, others flowing into rippling melodies of more complex notes. She sat down with the children in the centre of the clearing, while allowing her hands and arms to move expressively in accompaniment to her voice. As her song continued, its richness and complexity developed, as if the first note had been but a single bud which was now opening into a many petalled flower, with the most subtle of textures held within every single unfolding petal.

The children sat like statues, transfixed by her voice and its purity. Lilanthro could sing the most delicate notes and the most curving, spiralling melodies that they had ever heard. Her voice carried them along as if on a raft being washed downstream, with their bodies instinctively leaning forwards to catch every drop of the flowing, cascading, rippling river of sound all around them. Her song washed over them, through them and into the depths of their beings. It was as tinglingly alive as the youngest and most excitable of mountain streams that comes gushing out of the ground, bursting with energy and enthusiasm as it rushes downhill. It was as rich and beautiful as a waterfall pouring itself with abandonment down into a ravine, with the droplets of water catching the light of the sun and sparkling in a thousand colours and directions. It was as wild and strong as fast flowing rapids, pushing and tumbling their way through a rock strewn course, tearing at the riverbank and tossing branches along with them in their fierce flight. It was as all encompassing and generous as a wide, mature, meandering river flowing confidently and gracefully towards the sea. And it was as deep, mysterious and life-giving as the ocean itself that delights in dancing with the sun upon its surface while hiding the most powerful of currents in its depths.

It did not take long for the village adults to arrive. They too had been waiting for Lilanthro’s return and talking quietly to each other about it. Who was this girl? Was she friend or foe? Was she here to bring joy or anarchy to the village? Some of the adults were excited at the thought of her return, some uncertain, and some with stern questions for her. But as soon as they heard her voice floating through the air towards them, their questions evaporated and they moved as one towards the clearing at the edge of the village where Lilanthro sat amidst the circle of enchanted children. The adults quietly took their places in the circle and listened as intently as the most innocent youngster present.

Once they were all settled Lilanthro began to add words to her song. Gradually the listeners could discern stories that weaved themselves in and out of the melodies. Lilanthro sang of the river. Then she sang of the forest, the mountains, the meadows and the faraway lower lands. She sang of the trees, the flowers, the bushes and the ever-dancing grass. She sang of the sun and the wind, the rain and the storms, and the ever-changing clouds. She sang of the nighttime when shadows take hold of the land and stars grace the skies above. She sang of the creatures of the forest, of the wolves and owls, eagles and bears, deer and mice, butterflies and beetles. She sang of their lives and deaths, of predators and prey, of joys and struggles, of the beauty and the ugliness of nature.

Even more gradually, the theme of her song softly changed. With words, with tone of voice, with pure notes of emotion, Lilanthro sang of being human. She sang of living and dying, of persecutors and victims, of joys and struggles, of the beauty and the ugliness of being alive. She sang sweet melodies of sadness, deep utterings of fear, fierce calls of anger and expansive choruses of happiness. She sang of the exciting, fleeting moments in life when the mind and body rejoice in being alive and she sang of the day to day continuum of living, with its chores, hardships and boredoms, when the mind and body can forget the gift it has been given. Lilanthro’s song encompassed the wide extremes of living as well as the many shades in between, the frivolous moments, the depths, the heights, the surface, the centre and the spaces behind it all.

And then, just as her song reached its peak, it began to fade away. Almost unnoticeably the many melodies sank softly down. Underneath a line of happiness lay a note of anger. Underneath a note of anger lay a line of fear. As the fear died away, a note of sadness lived and died to leave beneath it a moment of uncertainty. And beneath the uncertain note lay an open space, with the merest hint of joyfulness and peace emanating from its depths. The melodies which had sounded so strong at the height of Lilanthro’s song now showed their true ephemeral nature and evaporated away. In their place silence began to arise. Lilanthro allowed her voice to sink lower and lower in both tone and volume, and to become once again single, pure notes that hung in the air for a moment or two before fading away. As each note faded she left more space between it and the next one, so that the sound became less and the silence became more. And then at last, came the last note, a crystal, clear note of the utmost beauty and purity which flowed out of silence and returned to silence.

And then there was no more.

The villagers sat without moving or speaking for a few moments longer before they noticed that the girl was no longer present. Somehow, she had crept out of their midst and faded back into the forest while they were still absorbed by the sound of silence. Before they had even fully realised the song had begun, it was now over and it was time to go to bed. The children found their parents, the parents found their children and together they went quietly to their huts to sleep.

Lilanthro watched them from her hiding place in the trees and whispered a good night to them before tucking herself up into a comfortable position. “That is all I have. Now I must wait and see if it will be enough”, she said to herself as she lay down to sleep and await the following day.

TO READ CHAPTER 12 CLICK HERE!