Ace of Cups

A small blurb about what I envision when I think of the Ace of Cups tarot card

 Reeds crackled softly under foot as a graceful long necked swan drifted through the open water of a marsh; its plumage was as white as fresh fallen snow. A young flaxen haired girl kneeled at the edge of the marsh, peering through the wetland greenery to get a peek at the swan’s two peeping chicks, still clung to by puffs of stubborn newborn down. She knew to stay as silent as the great willows arching high above her so as not to provoke the two swan parents who were fiercely guarding their offspring while searching for their food. All around her great choruses of marsh birds echoed forth, adding music to the slow dribbling water over a nearby beaver’s dam and the stalks bustling to the smooth spring breeze. Overhead masses of great white clouds bunched in a brilliantly blue sky tinged with indigo and sapphire, like a perfect painter’s piece and below the earth was muddy and wet to the finger tips. A soft, woody scent was in the air; filled with traces of loam and new flowers starting to bloom.

The young girl was enthralled by the new beginnings all around her as the world seemed to rebirth itself after the harsh winter when her newest sibling had also been brought into the world. She wondered if a swan such as the imperial bird in the water had brought her sister, she wondered if perhaps the swan was one in the same bird as the supposed stork. If it was, she hoped it would return again next spring, even though the new baby did get more attention than she, she adored all things small and helpless; they seemed to appeal to her more than the great beasts of the earth, like the cougar watching her from the edge of the safe, firm ground before the mucky parts of the marsh truly began. Naturally, the young girl had no inclination that she was being watched in quite a different manner than with which she was viewing the chicks.

A thrush landed in a blur on a stalk by her head, bending the plant over almost backward before swaying back and forth like a swing or her grandmother’s pendulum. She distinctly thought of the stalk of grass breaking and bird fluttering away in a panic, but such a thing never happened. The bird let loose a sharp burst of song before flitting off to land somewhere else. The young girl questioned the bird’s motives, was it lost like she had become, or was it calling for a new friend to arrive? She tried to imitate the dashing birdsong and thought she did a pretty good job it, too.

“What do we have here?” A melodious, strong voice asked her. The sound of the voice could have encapsulated a hundred great mountains, could have breathed out the wind that circled the worlds, but could have conversely soothed the smallest pup, could have tendered the youngest cloud.

She jumped, at once thinking it an adult and a stranger, two people she should be afraid of to be caught alone in this position. The young girl quickly fixed her earth-painted frock as she turned around to take in the speaker, and was met by fierce green eyes and hungry looking fangs.

The young girl let loose a screech of fear, but the large cat did not pounce. The cougar sat flicking the end of its tail back and forth and surveying her. She thought maybe it was waiting for her to run so that it could chase her, like the barn cats so often did with helpless mice. The cougar seemed almost to be smiling, and was certainly weighing her up for something.

“You are a human child, yes?” The cougar asked her with a soft and throaty purr. “I am Chikara, the protector of these marshes. The fish are my fish, the swans,” the cat paused to lick its lips, “are my swans. Humans are not so much welcome here.”

Shivering, the young girl replied: “I’m sorry for disrupting your place, Mrs. Cougar. I didn’t mean any harm for the animals.” For some reason, the sublime presence of the cougar did not affect her as badly as its first appearance. “Are you going to eat me?”

“Not today, young human child, not today because then others of your kind would come and destroy my marsh in hopes that they will have avenged their daughter’s death and protected their others from harm, when only I seek to protect my home from you.” The cougar explained softly.

The girl became aware that if the cougar was not speaking, a soft rumbling always seemed to emanate from its stomach. She had never thought that the big cats would purr as her little barn cats would, and seemingly over nothing.

“Do cats purr when they’re happy?” The little girl asked.

“No, this is not why we purr, young human child.” The cat seemed to grin with amusement, if a cat could grin. “Now, I would like for you to return to your dwelling, before—”

“Are we friends, Mrs. Cougar?” The child asked, staring up at the big cat and wishing she could stroke its chocolate-silver fur, even if the fur seemed to rough and tangled with burrs from laying in the grass all the time, and crouching up on unsuspecting animals.

The cougar seemed to be surprised for a moment—if a cat can look surprised. “As much as a Guardian and a parasite can be friends, little human child,” the cougar replied, “is as much as we can be friends. You decide.”

“I will go home and tell everyone I met a new friend.” The girl sang jovially.

“Do this, young human child,” the cougar suddenly snarled, “and I will eat you today.”

The girl’s eyes widened and she turned on her heel and ran, frightened by the sudden change in the atmosphere around the marshes.

The cougar growled happily to be rid of its guest and turned its attention on the large swan floating in the water. The swan cackled.

“I would have killed her in another moment, Mother, if you had not come,” hooped the queen swan. “She was too close to my young.”

“I know Miyagura. This is why I have come, for a destruction of a human life--”

“Means destruction for all of us,” the king swan replied, clacking his beak with pure annoyance.

The Mother stood up and shook her haunches. “We must try and forge friendships with our enemies to survive, new and powerful friendships, forged under the blue sky and above the blue water.” She dipped her head and drank from the water, wetting a parched throat and a sand paper tongue. “And never turn our backs for a moment after the friendships have been forged. Humans can never be trusted.”

The thrush sang out again, this time passing the Mother’s message along to the other animals of the wood so that they could learn to hide and compensate the humans as much as they could. And the thrush’s message spread through the wood like an unsuspecting gust of harsh wind, bringing with it hope of survival and fear of the future.

Author's Note

uhh... I don't know if I can handle tough critiques...but...please be tough!

Reviews

[fireblossom]

Magic. Marvelous. Great writing. Imaginative. ... Does that make you feel better? It is all true. I don't have much patience. This causes me to leave bad writing, unless I am asked to critique. Well your writing caught my attention and held it. The tone and pace are authentic create a world where the reader can live awhile. I hope you write more.

[greg]

intresting