Wind Whisperer, A Tale of Winds. Part 2

Wind Whisperer – A Tale of Winds.

Part 2

The Last "Hope".

If what I wrote pained or brought a tear or two to your eyes, then I apologize, but such is the case when one writes of what happened in the past, yet, I did promise of "Hope", did I not?

It was before the supposed signing of the treaty that two owls, a whisperer and his mate, fearing such treachery, took their un-hatched egg to a family of burrowing owls in the desert kingdom of Kuneer. With them, they also left books and scrolls that would one day help the hatchling know who and what it was, if indeed it was destined to embrace the winds, and a request; that the hatchling would remain hidden and maintain its family's legacy of providing aid those who are destined to be saved with utmost secrecy...to never return to the northern kingdoms until the war is over and the tyrants are defeated.

A chick hatched. In honour of her parents last and tearful wish, she was given the name "Hope", and as if in addition to the oath taken in service to the Winds, we, her direct descendants, upheld that wish and maintained that veil of secrecy so as to preserve our lives from any who might become entranced with our eyes.


A Tale of A Whisperer.

Those of you who managed to remain awake reading through these papers so fat must have already formed the opinion that we, Wind Whisperers, are not what one might call "regular owls" and that we do not spend the moon cycles of our lives living an owl-normal life. As for those who waited patiently for me to tell a story of courage, honour, and love, then it is not my place to disappoint them, but it is not of my own tale that I shall write, but that of a my mentor...and hero.

The owl I shall tell you about, whose name was "Yamin", lived many years before any of us. He, like those before him, listened to the Winds for the pain and anguish of those who needed his aid in every land in the five kingdoms to which the Winds carried him. One day, he rode the Winds through a great fire in the forests of Ambala following the whisper of an owl that awaited death.

It was a Snowy whom, in their hurry to escape the fires, no one remembered to rescue. She was too frail and week to fly and, of course, we all know how frail owls are sometimes treated and kept at the fringes of societies and the meanest of rations. Riding the Winds, Yamin sliced through the fires to her hollow in a tree already on fire, caught her, and stormed away with her clutched in his talons.

For any owl to perform his duty, be that a smith, a healer, or a warrior, they must use what equipments their job requires and the occupation of a Wind Whisperer is no different. The most important of what we use are our battle claws, for the occasional skirmish we might engage to accomplish what we set out to do. I mention this because I want it understood why Yamin always wore his battle claws and so, in his haste to escape the blazing crowns of fire, he hurt the owl he held in his armour-clad talons.


A Strange Owl Indeed.

When our noble owl saw that the owl he held in his talons was bleeding to death, he flew with her to a hollow he had in the forests of Tyto, he was properly ashamed of what he had done and promised her that he shall not leave her side until she is well and able to fend for herself. Wafa, which was the injured owl's name, could not believe that she was still alive from the forest fire and that she was to be tended to her health by the most handsome owl she has ever met.

Now, to the females of those who read through my pages, please do not be offended if, biased as I might sound, I imply how handsome Yamin was for it is not a reflection as to how pretty Wafa was and indeed it is my profound belief that each and every owl is handsome or pretty in his or her own way, but, since I already spoke of Yamin's, it is only fair of me to say that Wafa, even in her most weak and fragile, had a delicate beauty about her like that of a winter flower that defies the fiercest of Winds...or so I was told.

Wafa was deeply intrigued; she had never come across an owl that cared with such compassion in him that did not turn to pity over her frailty whenever he looked at her. Of course, she did not know at that time that such compassion and reverence for life and well-being of others came from countless years in service to the Winds which, in time, changes us in time to altruistic...placing the needs of others before our own.


Keeper of the Heart.

If I am to give Wafa justice, it must be said that she had a practical nature...perhaps a bit too practical for her own good. She was, naturally, thankful for his care but she tried not to be too appreciative of his efforts and keep to herself so as to guard herself from a beautiful fantasy that would leave her heart-broken.

However, fall in love, she did...not knowing the ways of the Winds and how it is the Winds that choose, for those who listen to them, our "Keeper of The Heart", not knowing that Wind Whisperers do not own their hearts until the one who does finds us and forces the truth upon us.

But if I am to be fair with Yamin, it must be said that he never knew about any growing passion for him in her heart; thinking of her as another life to be saved and never suspecting, even for a moment, that he will find his heart's keeper in her.

With days coming and going, Wafa grew stronger in body and was able to fly for the first time in her life with the aid of Yamin, who taught her some of the ways with which we, Wind Whisperers, ride the Winds silently with the least amount of effort. They enjoyed a couple of weeks in each other's company for, indeed, Yamin had all the makings of a fine ryb and, of course, we can all conclude how magical it was for Wafa. Yet, all that is well must come to an end and the day came when Yamin decided that he had done all that he can, and with satisfying results, for her and that it was time for him to ride the Winds out again in search of others to help and so, he went...she let him go.


Another Destiny to Be Found.

If you, my dear owl, get somewhat confused as to why she let him leave her without uttering any word to the contrary, then do not be. It was during the days they spent with each other that Yamin, deeming her as trust worthy, told her of his gift with the Winds and of his destiny in life of saving lives and souls alike that are meant to be saved, and Wafa, finding an unearthly truth in the strange words she heard, let go of him because she felt it of utmost selfishness if she was to ask him to stay with her and give her a chance to make him happy and it was so that she hid her broken heart as he left her his hollow.

Winds, apparently, had other plans for him.

For that entire night when he left the hollow, Yamin battled against ferocious Winds that slammed him back with every beat of his wings and even his most efficient and powerful flying patterns were of no use against this single-minded blizzard. At dawn, exhausted and scared that he, for some unfathomable reason, had lost his gift with the Winds, flew, or rather was carried on the gentlest of breezes to...her. There it was when he saw her huddled in her nest and crying her gizzard-break out that it came to him what he had been too slow to catch: Earth no longer bound him; she did.

For three days, she hid her face behind her wings thinking that he had returned to her because of her selfishness. All he did was to remain silently by her side until she gathered enough courage to look at him. It was then that he told her that she was destined to love him more than he could ever love her, that he will spend what remained of his life learning to love her and that, in the mean time, he shall do all that he can to make her happy...that it was now his destiny as a Wind Whisperer.


Thus was The End.

Yamin and Wafa lived happily as mates for a few years. I shall not embark on a description of how happy they were since their life together was no different than the life of any happily-mated pair. I shall also give them a measure of privacy and count on my reader's imagination for what life they shared.

As with every female in love, Wafa wanted a chick of her own. Yamin, however, was of another opinion since Wafa, though of a better health, was still of a fragile nature and he feared for her life if she does lay an egg. Apparently, it seems that Yamin loved her too much to deny her her heart's desire and so, an egg was laid...Wafa died.

Yamin's heart broke. He lived until his son was fully fledged...just long enough to teach his son of his heritage as a Wind Whisperer and of the ways and legacy of the Winds that the owlet was also destined to Whisper through and, indeed, the young owlet was barely able to fly when his Da passed away as well.


The Last Whisperer.

I realize now, as I read through the papers I have written so far that this tale is not the regular one that contains a measure of happiness at its end and, indeed, it might not be the best choice for a nest-time story either. Then again, it was in my first chapter that I apologized if what I write did not meet my reader's expectations and, hence, I shall not apologize again.

It is my belief that, by now, many of those who read thus far are wondering about the owlet that was orphaned at such a young age, of what became of the barely fledged owlet that bore the sadness and pain worthy of an old owl's soul...as he watched his Da's slip away in breeze of Wind that ruffled his feathers as it passed him.

Harfang, for that was the name my mother, Wafa, chose for her un-hatched chick, if it came to be a male, moments before she left this Earth, performed the final ceremony for his Da, took one last look at the hollow that witnessed so much love...and left.

I have tried my best to give an account of Winds and those who whispered to the Winds, yet much remains a mystery that would take many more moon cycles than what I have lived so far and many owlets with affinities to the Winds that far exceed my own to uncover. Yet, if I have known anything, it is that we Wind Whisperers are naturally soft, or rather fragile, at heart, and the more we feel it, the harder our plight is on us. It was for what I just described that I flew to the "Spirit Woods"; searching and hoping for any Whisper of my parents that would, perhaps, ease my pain for what I suffered and for a dark uncertain future that lay ahead of me.

Yet never have I seen the scrooms of my parents and, with time, the "Spirit Woods" became my retreat whenever I sought peace; happily embracing the truth that my parents did live a full life, that they trusted their son, that they have no unfinished business on this Earth.


A Happy Ending.

I have written of my parent's time on this Earth, but my quill must now be put to rest for it is my belief that it is not my place to write of how I lived. The life of a Wind Whisperer is indeed one of mystery and the devotion and reverence we show for each life and soul we set out to aid is indeed too mythical to be true, and, true to my destiny as a "Wind Whisperer", my life was no different. Yet, I cannot bring myself to write of how I lived for even now I cannot but only think of a shame that haunted me for many long years.

Yes, my good owl, a shame.

It is a question I asked of myself since that day I left my parent's hollow and took to the Winds. A question I asked of myself each and every time I failed to accomplish my duty, brought within mere inches of my life, or thought, bitterly, of the lonely existence it seemed that I was not destined to escape. This question was: "If I am to be given a choice; would I choose to desert my duty to the Winds, or would I choose to uphold my heritage and legacy as the last "Wind Whisperer"?

Have I astonished you? Well, I did say that it was my shame.

The happy ending, as I see it at least, is that such bitter memories no longer haunt me anymore. Indeed, I am not even the last Whisperer any more for it was not many moon cycles ago that I was carried by the gentlest of Winds to the Whisper of yet another soul that is graced by Winds. Never to realize that I shall finally find my peace in the souls that I met at the Greet Tree of Ga'Hoole to which I was carried.

Yes...no more shall I write of me yet perhaps one day, long after my days on this Earth cease to be, another Wind Whisperer would come to find in my life a story worth telling...a heritage worthy of a Whisper.

But I have no care for this. It matters only that there shall always be "Wind Whisperers"; that the heritage of those who once were, shall flow to those who are yet to come.

Yours,
Harfang.