The Gathandrian Trilogy 02 - Hallsfoots Battle

friend. Then the animal stretches upwards, resting its paws on the bark and takes a sprig of the needle-shaped leaves into its mouth. Sloth gasps, expects to see the wolf struck down or at least injured.
    Nothing like that happens.
    Instead the wolf chews and swallows the leaves, pads back to Sloth and sits down in front of him. The animal smiles. “Learn from this. When I eat from the mind-cypress, there is neither the death nor punishment you so wrongly fear. No. The wisdom that resides in the tree expands my thoughts and makes me stronger, as the Gathandrian Spirit desires, and as it wants you to learn to do, also. See how I am changed for the good.”
    Indeed, the green and golden fire of the wolf’s eyes has already softened to a sandy glow and Sloth sees a shimmering light resting around its head. There is something here that he has never experienced before and that he wants. In spite of his satisfaction with the way things have always been, he wonders for the first time whether there can, in fact, be more, with the Spirit’s approval. And the wolf surely has that as it still lives.
    One thing holds him back. “What about my sister?”
    “Do not fret,” soothes the wolf. “When you eat of the leaves, the wisdom you gain from the Spirit will allow you to take some to her, also. Believe me and it will be so.”
    The animal opens its jaws wider and breathes on Sloth. The air is perfumed with lemons and spices. The scent of it enters his mind and a path of golden happiness opens up before him.
    “Yes,” he says. “I will eat and grow wise.”
    Sloth rises. The sun glistens the cypress leaves and the tree is calling him. He walks towards the mind-tree, leaving the wolf behind, and he can hear music that pulsates to the beat of his heart. It is coming from the tree. Notes drift out from the leaves—yellow, blue, gold—and touch his skin. It is the most beautiful thing he has ever seen. He is standing at the tree now. Unable to help himself, he finds he is laughing. Fingers reach up to pluck long, green leaves and the juice of them melts over his palm. He can smell their bright, grassy scent. Without pausing to think, or even wanting to, he puts the first of the leaves on his tongue. It tastes like the best broth Prudence had ever made, the earliest gleanings of the corn harvest and the first bite of the honeycomb from the bees behind the house. All these memories spring to his mind, but the taste is more than the sum of them, more than he can describe.
    He finds himself lying on his back staring up at the sun. All the trees are singing. Laughter continues to bubble up in his throat as he chews and swallows the mind-medicine. He will know all things after this, he thinks. He will be able to please the Gathandrian Spirit, and fulfilment of life and happiness will more truly be his.
    As he swallows the last bite, he hears the wolf behind him, laughing. But the animal’s laughter is neither open nor free. It is full of mystery, holding at its centre the knowledge of all the world. When he opens his eyes, Sloth understands that the whole sky and earth are rich with wisdom and it can be his for the taking. The decision as to how he should live his life is his, and his alone. The Spirit of Gathandria is not the master of either his mind or his destiny.
    He sits up. Seeing the wolf is near, he hugs the animal whilst filling his mouth with the remaining leaves. There are so many things he wants to do—run through the cypress woods, plunge into the stream that flows through the path between the house and the meadow, cry out his exultation to the sun. But there is one act more important than all of these, and he must do it now before his heart leaps out of his flesh.
    “I must tell these things to my sister,” he pants, words tumbling over themselves in their haste to be out of his mouth. “Prudence must taste the wisdom of the leaves. I cannot keep these joys from her.”
    The wolf laughs again, and the sound of it is like the promise of rain on a dry summer-cycle day. “Come then, we will go to her and she, too, will know what you now understand. The two of you will be like the gods and stars, and the Spirit of Gathandria will not be able to stand against you.”
    Before Sloth can object, the wolf rears up on its hind legs once more and the two of them are flung into another breathless journey through the air. When he is next able to recognise his surroundings, Sloth knows he is back in his bed-area, the