The Folk of the Moth

During the night it had rained. Under the great suntrees of the Green City the pools and canals still rippled with intermittent drops that, falling, winked in the growing light. Within the deep crevices over the limbs of the suntrees small creatures began to stir then flutter up on bright-hued wings to meet the dawn.

Thorn of the Skydweller Clan awoke with a light wind against his face. The wind, he knew without opening his eyes, was fanned by a set of pink wings moving steadily. A bare toe nudged his shoulder. "It is a Faery sky, Thorn. Let us be awing. Every cloud will be taken."

Mumbling, "Faery sky?" Thorn raised his head and tossed his knee cushion toward a shelf. Still sitting with his knees drawn up, he stretched his arms in four directions, swung his head from shoulder blade to shoulder blade; then, rolling onto his feet, he paced the balcony as he pumped renewed vigor into sleep- softened wings. At last he skimmed through the portal and overtook his mate. Dawn seized his hand and drew him in a dancing quick-step to the tip of the broad limb.

"A Faery sky indeed," he exclaimed.

Above the suntree he waved to someone standing on the topmost branch. "There is Sire Sky," he said soberly. "And Dam Glow is winging up the trunk."

"They are getting as close to the clouds as they can," Dawn whispered with an indrawn breath.

"I suppose so." Thorn's wings sagged for a moment, then, "Come on." With a vigorous flapping of wings, he rose toward the still clouds dotting the deep morning blue. Where the sunlight turned the mist to a white glow, they lingered in vigorous harmony.

The hum of the Faery's mating chant murmured from cloud to cloud. The flurry of Faery wings churned the mist. Their breathing made new whiteness. As the edges of the cloud dissolved into sunlight, the cloud-born mates fluttered deeper into the cool mist and lingered until the cloud was only a wisp.

With the fading of the vibrant hum, the clan of Skydweller began to think about breakfast. "I will race you to the pool," Dawn cried as she dived toward the suntree.

"Not until I have had breakfast," Thorn called after her. Wing-dipping easily toward bath and breakfast, he watched his mate and sang to the morning air.

When a Faery sky arises,
My warming blood advises
All my limbs to seek for joy anew.

With my heart's desire beside me
And a rising breeze to guide me,
I would stride the clouds
And drift the morning through.

There is no path so pleasant
Where you and I have

"Thorn!" Her frantic cry shattered the morning. "Above you! Motheater!"

"Ah-h-h!" Thorn swiveled his head then clapped purple wings against his back and plunged. He had seen gouging claws so close that they blotted out the sky.

The motheater, clutching only empty air with its hard talons, clacked its harsh call and flapped away on mottled gray wings.

At treetop level Thorn spread his wings and skimmed through the leaves. Dawn was standing on a swaying branch, two arms pressed across her chest, two fists on her hips, plainly undecided whether to hold or scold.

"Moonglow-fro-Thornblood-fro-Skywind, you must remember to watch for those creatures." She wrapped four arms and six pink wings around him, shaking helplessly. "Oh, Thorn, right over the City?"

"So it would seem," he gasped against her pink down. "We have been attacked at our own portal."

"Of course, they do not like bony Faery heads." Dawn managed a smile and set her wings against her back. "But think what those claws did to Sire Sky. If the creatures start coming here, we are all in the same danger."

Thorn rubbed the frontal peak of his thick purple down. "The creatures have started coming here," he said.

"Motheater! Motheater!" Other couples, returning to bath and breakfast had taken up the cry.

"What?" Thorn peered up. "Could it have attacked some one else?" He sprang up and glided through the outer leaves. Dawn followed.

"Oh, no! Motheater! Motheater!" The futile cry was torn from them.

From above the Broken Hills a giant moth swept a steep path toward the Tree of Skydweller. A torn wing flapped raggedly. In close pursuit came six clacking motheaters. Out of the clouds the Faery were diving to intercept. Frantically the moth flapped toward the top of the suntree. For a few moments it seemed to the two frozen watchers that the giant insect might escape, but almost at treetop level a large bird pressed ahead of its fellows and swooped toward it. With one motion it seized the moth, plucked off its head and tossed the writhing body toward those behind.

In horror the Faery saw the squawking, clawing predators tear their prey and flap away gobbling bits of it. A few of the angry Faery pursued them, but most dropped toward the suntree, their joy in the morning forgotten.

The group in the pool looked at each other large-eyed and tight-lipped. Half-heartedly they gathered the leaves of the dalevetch growing luxuriantly along the edges of the pools and canals. Even tiny Petal, who had 'found her wings' only the day before, clung timidly to her dam, awed by the stillness around her. Dawn swam to her newest grandchild and began to chant a child's song of gathering as she pulled leaves and piled them on a tray.

"One hand for plenty today,
One hand for winter's drought
One hand to bear the tray,
One hand to stay the mouth."

The last saying much about the usual appetite of the Faery. The familiar 'picking chant' lifted the dark shadow cast by the marauding birds, and soon trays were heaped with the succulent leaves of the inexhaustible Faery staple.

Under the edge of the vines, Thorn and his sire Sky had been whispering together. With a nod Thorn looked around and, spying his third son, called, "Clay, please, help your grandsire to portal and then call Council."

"Forest can help me," Sky said with a cold glance at Clay. "You can call the Council." Clay made a wry face at his sire and fluttered away.

With his forehands Sky grasped the slim, knotted rope that Forest dangled into the water. Without a word to Forest, Glow leaped up and grasped the rope also. As they lifted Sky, his blue wings dangled, limp, against his back and legs. He pulled them into place with his hinter arms and held them there while Forest and Glow carried him out over a canal and up toward the top of the suntree.