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For TAO
The Steeplewood Forest
THE GROVE
Seeing the rose appear above the visitor’s palm, Ullalume rises and walks quietly to where the others are seated. “Claudia,” she says in a placid voice. The blonde woman nods at Ullalume and reaching out slowly takes the flower from TAOWolf’s hand. Ullalume removes one of her gloves and her eyes narrow as she lightly touches the crystalline petals with her ungloved fingers. Her touch is brief, both for her own sake and that of this mysterious guest about whose life time has been so strangely coiled.
Walking back to join the group Ligeia stops short and stands still watching as the expression on Ullalume’s face clouds for a moment. Even Aesop pauses in his movement. Iphigenia rises and, moving behind Ullalume, places a supportive hand upon the cyver’s shoulder.
Ullalume’s expression clears and she looks at the visitor, the one the others have called TAOWolf. The touch of the flower has called her by another name. “Lliath Madadh-allaidh,” she says quietly and pauses, the flash of recognition in the eyes of the visitor confirming that this is a name she has once been called. “Lliath Madadh-allaidh,” she continues, “the cords of time wind tightly about you, but there are spaces within these binding cords, places where movement has more possibilities than you might know.” She pauses and stares a moment at the shifting amber and silver eyes of the visitor. “There is, among the many tomorrows that open in front of you, at least one whose freedom is too violent to be bound.” Her eyes narrow once more as she concentrates to name this strange thing she has seen, this opening to what seems to be the time of another place. “You are bound, in part, to what will not be bound.” Her eyes suddenly fill with tears and she turns to Iphigenia, “Cruel!” she cries, “They are cruel that have done this to her.” Time within the grove suddenly stiffens for all save the women and their guest. The motion of the wind through the trees ceases and the chorus of crickets falls silent in mid-chirp, even the musical movement of water from the spring grows mute and still. The stiffening of time passes quickly and the placid quietness returns to Ullalume’s features.
Iphigenia holds Ullalume for a moment and then eases her to a seated position on the grass. Turning to TAOWolf she says, “I do not fully understand her words, but her gift is strong and I have not known her perception to be deceived.” At a nod from Iphigenia, Ajax walks over to TAO. The great wolf sits down beside her, resting his head upon her lap. As Ligeia and Aesop rejoin the group, Iphigenia says to TAO, “That we all might better understand what Ullalume has seen, perhaps it is time that your story be told.”
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