The Widow Sabishane - Part V, Page 3

The dead men were heavy in his paws as Mr. Klemmens dragged their bodies to the edge of the ship and tossed them over.  The man with the green bandanna's belt full of grenades had fallen from his corpse and Mr. Klemmens had picked it up.  Turning the yellow belt over in his paws, he examined each of the eight grenades before tying it around his own waist.  Armed with explosives Mr. Klemmens drew his scimitar once again, keeping it out in front as he began to descend the dark stairwell before him, leaving the heavy metal door ajar just in case.

The stairwell was long and dark, pressing in around him as he walked.  Mr. Klemmens began to wonder if the stairwell would ever end, or if he would be wandering the dark passage forever when a thin stream of light finally reached his glowing eyes.  "At last." he muttered to himself.  Pushing his back against the left side of the stairwell, Mr. Klemmens descended the remaining stairs very slowly, his scimitar now in both hands and at the ready.  When he got to the bottom step he saw that no one was there, but it brought him no comfort. "An out of sight enemy makes for an out of sight threat.  I do not like this."  Mr. Klemmens sighed heavily.  The last step had brought him to a T.  His choices were not kindly labeled, like a nice hotel or a bottle of whiskey might be.  Left or right were his only options.

"Now what?" he said lamely.  Then, remembering what the Widow had said, Mr. Klemmens took in a deep breath and began to observe his surroundings solemnly.  To the right he heard deep muffled voices and what sounded like laughter.  He could smell roasted garlic and various spices wafting through the air on invisible waves of fragrance.  Down the left passage he could hear the hiss of cooling metal, the clang of hammers against steel, and the grunting of men working hard labor.  The smell of sulfur and sweat stung his nose as he wriggled his whiskers in disgust.  Suddenly, Mr. Klemmens could see everything as though it were laid out in front of him.  "The left path leads to a foundry for certain, and if I know anything at all, then that is where they're keeping the prisoners." he thought to himself.  "And to the right...A kitchen and a galley no doubt."  After a moment's consideration Mr. Klemmens decided the best thing to do would be to take the path to the right.  If there was a captain to this vessel there was a good chance he'd be far from the workers and closer to the kitchen at this time of night.  "I can go back for the prisoners" he reasoned, "but what's to stop the ship from coming after us if the captain still breathes?"  Mr. Klemmens pulled his sword up into a defensive position once more and headed down the hallway, towards the deep voices and mouth-watering aromas.

As the voices got louder and the scent of freshly prepared food grew stronger, Mr. Klemmens' movements became brief and calculated.   Finally he reached the end of the hallway, here it broke out into three more paths; straight, right, and left.  Without much deliberation he took the straight path, reasoning with himself that he had already been going in that direction and he did not want to lose track of how far he had come.  As Mr. Klemmens took his first step down the next passageway, a door flew open in front of him and a bevy of men's voices came pouring out in a cacophony of laughter and argument.  The nimble cat quickly stepped backward and hid himself around the corner of the three-way pass he had just come through.  Peeking out over the side, Mr. Klemmens gaped as a giant of a man came walking out of the galley and into the hall, laughing deeply at some unheard joke.

The bald man walked with his back hunched forward as he was too tall to stand up straight in the ship's narrow corridors.  The giant's shoulders were almost as broad as the hallway was wide, and each hand was as big as Mr. Klemmens himself.  The huge man wore a red V-neck blouse and tattered white pants; his belt was thick leather with a large buckle in the shape of a skull, or was it a skull?  Mr. Klemmens could not tell.  Tucked into the belt, as if it weighed nothing, was a huge hammer.  Its massive head was twice the size of his hands and Mr. Klemmens could scarcely believe that any other man could actually wield it.  The hulking mass stopped for a moment and Mr. Klemmens' grip tightened anxiously around the hilt of his scimitar.  The man's huge bald head rose into the air and his broad, flat nose inhaled deeply.  The muscles in Mr. Klemmens' arms began thrumming  with electricity and he could feel the fur on his back bristle.  But the mountainous man only snorted loudly, turned, and began to walk down the hall and away from Mr. Klemmens.  The Somali cat swallowed the lump that had found it's way into his throat as he let his heartbeat slow.  When the man was out of sight, he turned the corner and began walking back down the hallway, towards the open door of the ship's galley and the choir of men behind it.

The Widow Sabishane - Part V, Page 2

Mr. Klemmens cursed to himself, straining his eyes against the beating rain as he crept along the deck of the island-sized ship.  He had been skimming along the deck for some time, searching for an entrance that lead into the bowels of the ship but had not seen a single doorway or hatch since leaving the Widow.  Just as he was about to turn back, Mr. Klemmens' noticed the shadow of a small rectangular structure through the heavy downpour ahead.  Just a few yards away sat a small steel shelter with a heavy matching door.  Above the frame of the doorway pulsed a large red light.  Mr. Klemmens tilted his head sideways with curiosity before moving to investigate.   Suddenly, just as he reached out for the handle, there was a loud beep and the light at the top of the door flashed green.  Mr. Klemmens skittered across the deck on all fours and slammed himself against a stack of crates nearby, just barely out of sight.  The steel door swung open and two lank men stepped out of the dark entrance way.  He could see corrugated metal steps beneath their feet and a downward sloping handrail fastened to the wall.  "Bingo." said Mr. Klemmens, as the door was shut and the red light flickered back on.

The men were tall and rough looking.  One of them had a red bandanna with black paisleys tied around his head like a sweat band, his long, greasy black hair flowing out and over it like a fountain of crude oil; his face was a war-torn vista, full of pock marks the size of small craters and covered with dozens of thin little scars like a thick, fleshy, spiderweb.  The other man wore a pleated navy blue jacket with a green bandanna and white paisleys.  "Must be a uniform thing." joked the Somali cat.  He wore gold-rimmed spectacles and had a curly brown mustache with a devil's goatee.  Mr. Klemmens noticed that both of the  men were carrying weapons, the man in green carried a semi-automatic pistol tucked into a holster on his pants and the man in red had a variety of grenades attached to a gold colored scarf he wore as a belt with a short sword tucked into the back.  Mr. Klemmens carefully reached above him with both hands and silently unsheathed his scimitar from it's scabbard behind his head, bringing it down slowly and steadily until the blade floated in front of his face.

The men were talking in a language Mr. Klemmens could not understand as he sat behind the small stack of crates griping his sword, waiting patiently for an opportunity to strike.  After a few moments of idle chatter the man in red reached into his stain-spotted shirt and pulled out a flask.  As both men began to drink heavily from it, Mr. Klemmens climbed to the top of the crates, staying low as as possible while he watched the men carry on with one another.  After some time, when the flask was empty, the man in green mumbled drunkenly and walked to the side of the boat, leaning over the edge and groaning as he retched.  The man in red laughed loudly as he opened the door and leaned against it, keeping it ajar as he waited for his lackey to finish.  Mr. Klemmens saw his opportunity and took it.
 
Gripping the scimitar in both hands, the agile cat launched himself from the top of the crates at the man in red.  In a flash of fur and metal Mr. Klemmens flew through the air like a corkscrew, twisting his body and hissing loudly as he flew over the man in red.  The gaunt man's eyes bulged as time slowed to a halt.  Mr. Klemmens spun in the air above the man's head, bringing the scimitar down from above his right shoulder as the man fumbled with his keys, trying desperately to drop them in order to arm himself; but it was too late.  The man in red gaped as Mr. Klemmens  brought his sword down with with both paws, slicing through the man's upturned face and driving the blade down through his sputtering throat until the sharp blade bit deeply into his collar bone.  Mr. Klemmens landed softly behind him,  a spray of crimson blood speckled his face and stained his fur.  The man in the red bandanna's body stood with Mr. Klemmens still clutching the hilt of the scimitar buried deep within his neck.
 
The man in green wiped vomit from the corner of his mouth with a dirty sleeve as he turned back towards the entrance way.  Turning pale the instantly, the man retched again at the sight of his friend's body. Realizing what was about to happen the man began fumbling for his pistol drunkenly, his eyes still staring ahead in horror.  Mr. Klemmens steadied his grip on the scimitar and pushed the still-standing body of the dead man forward with his foot, unsheathing the sword it from it's fleshy scabbard and leaving the man's body to droop forward.  As he walked towards the man in green Mr. Klemmens unsheathed his second sword, the falchion, with his one free paw.  When it was loose he let both arms fall to his sides, the two sword blades dragging along the deck beside him while he walked.
 
The man in green's hands shook visibly as he fumbled with his gun, getting it stuck on the holster as he desperately tried to arm himself.  Mr. Klemmens brought the swords up high and crossed both blades in front of him like a large pair of scissors as he burst into a sprint.  Finally the man in green wrenched his gun with all his strength, pulling it loose.  But Mr. Klemmens had gotten close enough.  With a powerful thrust he leapt up into the air, flying like a guillotine towards the trembling man.  Lightening stuck, and as it ripped across the night sky Mr. Klemmens pushed the two sword handles towards each other, closing the blades around the man's neck.  The man in green's body wavered while a sickeningly  wet thud sounded at his feet.  A moment later, blood and rainwater swirled around and around as a brown-haired head with a curly mustache and a devil's goatee rolled across the deck.  Mr. Klemmens sheathed his swords without a word and set about gathering the bodies.

The Widow Sabishane - Part V, Page 1

Part V

The Gray Plague

The last rays of sunlight were just slipping beneath the horizon when the Widow's rowboat quietly thumped against the giant vessel's hull.  "We we've made it this far Mr. Klemmens." said the Widow breathlessly, stowing away the oars so as not to trip over them.  She and Mr. Klemmens had followed the immense ship as closely as they could for the rest of the afternoon.  Just when they thought they were about to lose it, the ship stopped dead and the old Victorian boathouse was finally able to catch up.  The Widow and Mr. Klemmens had waited until the sun was just about to set before grabbing some supplies and approaching the vessel, believing it  would be harder to spot them on the dark blue sea at dusk.

Rain had begun to drizzle lightly as they set out in the small rowboat and now, as Mr. Klemmens tied the boat to a cleat on the monster-ship's hull, it was turning into a squall.  The rain poured down like ice cold daggers as the Widow grabbed the flintlock pistol she had wrapped in a cloth and shoved it into her satchel.  She wore a rubber slicker over her dress and had secured a tiny dagger to her thigh with an old red scarf.  "Ready?" she whispered to Mr. Klemmens, who was standing at the stern of the rowboat wearing a dark green, hooded cape; a grappling hook dangling from his throwing paw.  The old scimitar he wore was now slung over his shoulder, crisscrossing on his back with a falchion in a red scabbard.  He nodded to the Widow as he swung his grappling hook around and around, faster and faster.  Then with supreme timing and incredible accuracy he let go of the hook, sending it catapulting up, over, and onto the deck of the ship.  He winced at the metal clang it made and yanked hard, wedging the hook into the underside ledge of the deck.  He tugged again to check the tension and began to climb upwards, slowly.  "Stay in the boat until I signal you Sabishane.  Let me scout out the vessel first." said Mr. Klemmens.  The Widow looked up at him, the rain splattering off her thick glasses as she nodded solemnly.
 
Mr. Klemmens flattened his ears back and peeked over the ledge of the deck.  His glowing eyes darted back and forth in the darkness as rain spattered loudly on the metal deck.  Thunder rolled above him and lightening cracked through the thick black clouds, illuminating the huge steaming towers and the giant cogs of black metal that loomed over him.  The colossal black wheels turned endlessly; over and over while iron and steel shrieked like a dying banshees, churning  the great engines below.  Mr. Klemmens stayed still for a moment, peering over the edge of the deck.  When he did not see anyone pass by, he slowly climbed up over the ledge and jumped onto the deck.  Keeping to the shadows Mr. Klemmens skulked around the area, checking for signs of sentries or guards...but there were none.  In fact, the entire deck of the ship seemed abandoned aside from stacks of crates and a few empty oil drums.  Mr. Klemmens snuck back to the ledge and signaled the Widow to come up.
 
Down in the rowboat, the Widow Sabishane tied the end of the rope that was dangling from the grappling hook around her waist and gave it a tug before beginning  to climb up.  When she arrived at the top Mr. Klemmens helped to pull her over the ledge and they both sat hunkered down in the shadows.  "There are no guards anywhere Sabishane." Mr. Klemmens whispered. "Just boxes and oil drums."  The Widow looked around warily as the rain came pattering off her slicker and cascading down  the front of her hood, like several miniature waterfalls.  "Alright, let's find a way in and see if we can locate where they keep the prisoners."  Mr. Klemmens nodded and motioned for the Widow to stay put.  He got down on all fours and lowered himself to the floor so that his belly was barely skimming the deck, as he began to crawl towards the bow of the giant vessel.

The Widow Sabishane - Part IV, Page 3

        After the Chief had finished his tale and every belly was full, he took the Widow and Mr. Klemmens on a tour of the village. Together they spent a solid chunk of the afternoon walking along the hanging rope bridges, sharing stories, eating food, meeting villagers and just generally having a good time. When the sun finally began to dip towards the horizon, the Widow Sabishane thanked the Chief for his hospitality and asked for directions back to the beach. Sad to see the Widow and Mr. Klemmens go, the villagers all lined up by the mysterious stone gate and waved them a heartfelt goodbye.

Atushka performed his ritual on the stone and when they had all opened their eyes they were back in the clearing of the jungle. "How do you do that Atushka?" asked Mr. Klemmens curiously "I must admit, I am very intrigued." The short, dark-skinned man looked up at Mr. Klemmens with his big brown eyes and smiled. "Magic!" he said, as he threw back his head and released a rumbling bout of deep laughter. "And to think, I was just starting to like you." replied Mr. Klemmens. Atushka's laugh turned into a high-pitched giggle as he bounded over to the large Somali cat, picked him up with surprising strength and hugged him tightly. "You are a good man, for a cat." said the Chief cheerily. "Take care of de young lady." The Widow Sabishane smiled warmly as she knelt down to the tiny man and embraced him. "Thank you Atushka. I will be thinking of you and your people, wishing for a safe return for the ones whom you have lost. I truly hope to see you again before I leave this world." Atushka blinked back his own tears and kissed the Widow on the hand before bowing to her. "You are most welcome Madame. And do not worry, de Spirits tell me I will see you again soon. Now, sail carefully and keep a lookout for de gray ship. You will know when you spot it, for it will fill de entire horizon." As the two friends walked away, the great Chief's smile slowly turned into a deep frown. He looked out towards the ocean and breathed in heavily. "I understand de order of life, but I will still be sad to see her go."

The walk back to the rowboat was relatively silent as Mr. Klemmens and the Widow were both thinking heavily about the Apuwashi tribe and the situation they were in. As soon as they had reached the boathouse the Widow stomped her feet hard and spun around completely. "There!" she said relieved, "I've just left all of the bad energy right here on the deck. Mr. Klemmens, if you would be so kind, please do the same and then sweep that portion of the deck for me will you?" As Mr. Klemmens hoisted himself up over the deck he smiled at her. "Of course Sabishane...Let's right ourselves and finish this day out in happiness." As he did this, the Widow secured the halyard to the head of the sail and began to hoist it up into the air. When it was all the way to the top, she tied the remaining line around a cleat on the mast and took hold of the helm.

The Widow Sabishane looked out over the water and smiled as she ran her wrinkled old hands over the smooth wheel of the helm and sucked in the salty air as hard as she could. As she let it all out she gave the wheel a strong clockwise spin before grabbing it sharply and holding it perfectly still. "Where are we going Sabishane?" Mr. Klemmens called out as he climbed up the ladder that lead to the crow's nest. The Widow Sabishane smiled and called up to him "Wherever the wind takes us my friend!" And as if she had called upon it herself, the wind came suddenly and powerfully. It surged westward, filling the giant sails that were tied to the large mast in the center of the deck and began pushing the boathouse forward with great speed. The Widow flicked a tiny switch behind the steering wheel and a few moments later music filled the air as an invigorating Flamenco guitar began playing out over the loud speakers.

As the slowly setting sun shined down upon her and the old Victorian boathouse sailed over the wide blue yonder, the spray of the ocean kissed the Widow's wrinkled old face. She smiled delightfully as the wind wiped around her, cooling her skin just as the sun began to make it sweat and enormous waves crashed against the walls of the huge Victorian house as it sailed along, its barnacle-covered bottom sloshing in and out of the water as the ocean raised and lowered the ship. They had sailed just a few miles out from Apuwashi when Mr. Klemmens began shouting, "Land ho Sabishane! Land ho!" The Widow quickly picked up her monocular from the brass mount just below the helm's steering wheel and extended it as far as it could go. She held it up to her right eye as the blood-orange sun glinted off its shiny surface. Narrowing her eyes she saw a large dark mass far out on the water and her heart sank. "That's not land Mr. Klemmens!" the old lady shouted. Mr. Klemmens squinted his own eyes, pulling out a large pair of binoculars he rarely had cause to use. "Well what in heaven's name is it?" he called below. The Widow Sabishane frowned as she bent her head back and looked upwards at the crow's nest where Mr. Klemmens stood watch. "It's a ship, a war vessel." Mr. Klemmens finally gave in and brought the binoculars up to his face, quickly adjusting the focus. "Oh." was all the talking cat could say.

Stretching from one end of the horizon to the other, was a massive ship. Its hull was a dull gray metal, which Mr. Klemmens guessed was a combination of steel and iron. He saw huge towers pouring out thick clouds of steam and metallic cogs that turned one another as they sat, sporadically jutting out from what looked like the deck of the ship. "A steam-powered ship of that size is impossible." he heard himself say. Yet there it was, with thousands of flags fluttering in the wind from hundreds of poles across it's deck, each one bearing a different emblem. Some were large and impressive with fire and dragons or skulls and swords, others were adorned with fancy gold lettering or a coat of arms and looked to be made of expensive silk, while even more flags hung lower on the poles and were torn and ratty looking, often bearing a modest sigil. What he saw last was the most terrifying. In the broadside of the ship, were massive square outlines that could only have one thing hiding behind them. "Cannons..." whispered Mr. Klemmens to himself.

By tracking the motion of the vessel's crest in the water, Mr. Klemmens quickly noted the ship's speed and direction. "Sabishane, that thing is armed, and it's headed due north at about...about 100 knots!" The Widow snapped her head towards the crow's nest and shouted, "That's not possible, not something that large!" Mr. Klemmens continued to stare out of his binoculars. "Widow, if I'm wrong then so much the better for it. But somehow that steamship is tearing right through the ocean!" The Widow Sabishane slammed her monocular shut and squeezed it tightly. "Well then, what are we waiting for? There are Apuwashi prisoners aboard that ship Mr. Klemmens. Let us go and fetch them."

The Widow Sabishane - Part IV, Page 2

The Widow Sabishane and Mr. Klemmens ran behind Atushka as he led them deeper into the jungle.  After what seemed like hours, the trio finally came breathlessly panting to the edge of a wide clearing.  Facing them, stood a tall stone wall on the opposite end of the clearing.  Atushka had led them to a dead end.  The Widow and Mr, Klemmens looked at each other nervously but said nothing.  In the middle of the wall, wedged in a large gap, was a gigantic circular stone.  Atushka slowly turned around to his guests and smiled his mainly toothless smile.  "As I have mentioned before, we have had a lot of uninvited guests to de island lately so security had to be tightened up."  As he spoke Atushka turned around and placed his hand on the circular stone, his face turning stoic.  "Please, Madame, hold my hand.  You too furry catman."  He said, glancing back at Mr. Klemmens with a mischievous smile.  The Widow Sabishane grabbed Mr. Klemmens' paw before he could reply. Atushka turned back towards the stone with the Widow's hand tightly in one of his own and fanned his fingers out over the smooth chalky surface as he began to hum a deep and rhythmic tone, closing his eyes and lowering his head as he did so.
 
As Atushka hummed his wordless tone, the ground began to shake lightly and tiny pebbles began to fall from above them.  The pitch of the tone became deeper and the vibration became stronger and stronger.  Finally the humming was so deep that Mr. Klemmens could feel it in his chest, vibrating through his ribs and lungs.  He felt as though there were hundreds of tiny tribesmen like Atushka holding onto him, humming deeply and sending their deep vibrations through him.  The tremors became so strong that the Widow and Mr. Klemmens became dizzy and had to shut tight their eyes.  Seconds later the humming and the vibration had completely stopped, and the Widow felt Atushka release her hand.  She opened her eyes and the tiny man smiled up at her.  "What was all that about then?" she said to him, confused and a bit motion sick.  "Turn around and see for yourself Madame." said the little old man with pride lathering his voice.

The Widow slowly turned around and there in front of her was an incredibly complex village full of tiny men and women just like Atushka.  A massive stone wall surrounded it all and the Widow realized they were on the other side of the clearing.  There were huts made of wood and leaves in the canopy and strange long shacks on the ground.  Rope bridges connected every hut above them and vine-made ladders hung from various trees beneath.  The shacks below were long but short to the ground, made with mud walls and straw roofs.  The huts in the trees looked more like bird nests, made from a patchwork of wooden sticks, leaves and vines.  The Widow gasped in surprise and delight.  "How absolutely, incredibly, amazing Mr. Atushka!"  Atushka puffed out his chest and smiled.  "Thank you Madame.  Now, about dem scones...would you like to take dis meeting to my hut before I give you a tour?"  "Very much so."  Said the Widow as she took his already extended arm and the three of them walked towards the center of the village.

In Atushka's hut Mr. Klemmens and the Widow sat and ate as Atushka, who they now knew was the Chief, told them all about his people and their village.  "We are natives to dis island.  We call de island Apuwashi and have named ourselves de same.  We have been here since any of de eldest elders can remember.  Which, as far as I can recall would make our tribe somewhere around a few thousand years old, at least I dink so.  Anyway, we have had a long and generally very prosperous existence.  We are simple people who are content wid what de Spirits have given to us, so we have never ventured beyond our own island and until recently we've always had a good relation with any sort of folk who stopped by.  We even used to have a trading post set up on de coast for any travelers who passed drough."

The Widow put down her dried cranberry scone and looked at the Chief with her big sad eyes.  "Why exactly have you retreated to the deep center of your jungle Mr. Atushka?"  "Please, just call me Atushka.  It started about 5 years ago.  A massive ship, bigger than any I have ever seen, came to our tiny island.  It was gray like de color of de rocks but much harder and had a shine to it, like your sword
Mr. Klemmens, and when it came to our shores it dropped a massive bridge down from its bowels and hundreds of armed men poured out onto our beaches.  They came screaming into our villages with their weapons drawn high, cutting down anyding or anyone in deir path."  The Chief took a long breath and let out a heavy sigh.  "We were forced to flee; to retreat to dis place, de sanctuary.  Dey stole our food and our animals; dey even stole some of our people.  De next morning we tried to retaliate, to rescue dose who had been taken.  But the mighty ship was gone.  Since then, we have only seen smaller ones come and go in scouting parties.  We made a few raids on dem but, when we got to deir ships dere was nothing in dem.  I believe dey are looking for my people, to kidnap and enslave more of us."

The Widow Sabishane's eyes were full of tears as Atushka went on with his story, telling them of the horrors that the armed men inflicted upon his peaceful tribe.  Mr. Klemmens saw the Widow's tearful face and his blood began to boil with resentment for the unknown raiders.  At the outset of Atushka's tale, Mr. Klemmens had taken off his scimitar to sit comfortably and was now clutching the hilt so hard his paws were raw and bleeding.  Mr. Klemmens could not help but relive his own terrible memories as a kitten, when he had been abducted from his own clan, long before he had met Sabishane and only just before she became a widow.

The Widow Sabishane - Part IV, Page 1

Part IV

Atushka the Chief

As the sun was reaching its apex in the sky, Mr. Klemmens and the Widow were still walking through the lush jungle.  They had stopped briefly for a quick lunch and had just began to move out again when Mr. Klemmens suddenly rushed in front of the Widow and held his arm out in front of her, forcing the Widow to stop.  "What is it Mr. Klemmens?" she whispered.  "We're being watched, and I believe we may be surrounded."  "Oh heavens." said the Widow as she placed a hand in front of her mouth and looked around the jungle pensively.  Mr. Klemmens slowly began to unsheathe his scimitar as he crouched low and scanned the trees.

"Do not withdraw your arms, creature!"  boomed a deep voice from somewhere behind them.  Mr. Klemmens, keeping his paw on the hilt of the semi-unsheathed sword, quickly turned around to face the sound.  "Who are you, and what do you want with us?" demanded the Widow.  "What are you doing on MY island?" boomed back the mysterious voice.  "What makes this your island, is your name written on it?" said the Widow as she stifled a giggle.  Mr. Klemmens shot her a disapproving look.  "ENOUGH QUESTIONS!" boomed the voice.  "I AM NOT AMUSED!  TELL ME WHO YOU ARE AND WHY YOU HAVE COME HERE OR MY WARRIORS AND I WILL ATTACK WITHOUT MERCY!"  Mr. Klemmens' fully withdrew his scimitar with a loud SHINK! as his fur bristled and he hissed at the trees around them, "Try it fool!" he spit, baring his sharp teeth.  "Easy Mr. Klemmens." The Widow whispered.  "I can handle this."

The Widow stepped in front of Mr. Klemmens and put both of her arms outward, showing she had no weapons.  "Please excuse my good friend Mr. Klemmens; he only wishes to protect me.  As you can see, I am simply an old Widow.  We mean you no harm.  We were simply passing by your island when we nearly crashed.  We just wanted to stretch our legs and do a bit of exploring.  Please, do me a kindness and step out so that we can meet face to face, peaceably."   For a moment the Widow thought the man behind the voice had gone away, then without warning, the leaves began to rustle from all around them and the trees began to creak and sway in a building wind.  Mr. Klemmens pushed the Widow back behind him again and stood in a defensive position with his sword up and at the ready.  "Patience Mr. Klemmens, patience." Whispered the Widow.

Just then, from behind a small shrub, came a very short and very old man with heavily tattooed ebony skin.  The black tribal tattoos were connected and seemed to swirl and wrap around every part of his body as though he were entirely covered with one giant tattoo.  The man wore nothing but a loincloth and had a quiver of arrows slung over his back and a huge hunting bow in one hand, which he now leaned upon like a great staff.  The little man looked up at the Widow warily, then, seeing she truly meant him no harm he smiled a wide, semi-toothless grin.  "Ah yes!  Hello." he said a with a heavy Rastafarian accent.  "I am Atushka and dis is my island, de Island of Apuwashi!  I am de chief of a very small tribe dat exists only on dis island." the small man looked down at his feet shamefully, kicking up dirt as he spoke.  "I am sorry for de threateninglyness of myself.  I have most probably scared de Jumblies out of you, but we've had many uninvited guests to our island recently and dey aren't usually as pleasant as you Madame.  In fact dey are more often than not quite hostile, like your fat, furry friend here."  said Atushka as he poked Mr. Klemmens belly with his bow and laughed.  Mr. Klemmens sheathed his sword roughly and flashed the man a grin full of long white teeth.  "Well it certainly is nice to meet you Mr. Atushka." said the Widow enthusiastically.  "Is your village close by?  I brought some of my special scones with me and I would love to share them with you while you tell me all about your wonderful island."  "Oh yes, I would like dat very much." said the old man excitedly.  "Follow me!" he bellowed as he dashed off into the jungle with surprising speed.

The Widow Sabishane - Part III, Page 4

After they had finished their breakfast Mr. Klemmens and the Widow Sabishane continued through the jungle.  Mr. Klemmens, now beginning to understand that keen observation brings insightful appreciation, had sheathed his sword and was climbing over and under every vine, thicket, and root in their path.  His large cat eyes stared in wonder at all the different kinds of plants.  "This one is interesting Widow, it has ten petals but only one flower per plant.  Oh and look here, every petal is a different color.  I wonder why that is."  The Widow smiled warmly at her friend and bent down to him, carefully examining the plant he was pointing to.  "Oh yes, that's called the Doting Marquis Mr. Klemmens.  It is an extremely rare flower with a bit of a fable.  Would you like to hear it?"  The large Somali cat curled up on the floor of the jungle and nodded his head, his yellow and gold flecked tail swishing back and forth excitedly.  "Very well then." Said the Widow as she plopped down next to him and began scratching behind his ear.

"In the small town of Hue, many many years ago, there lived a kind and loving Marquis with his beautiful Marchioness.  They ruled their people for many years with kindness and equality and they never gave in to greed or corruption like so many others.  The Marquis and Marchioness loved each other very much and so it comes as to no surprise that they had 10 lovely daughters between them, each one born exactly one year after the last.  As you can imagine, birthdays became especially difficult for the Marquis and his wife, as each daughter's was on the same exact day."

"For many years the gifted Marquis would come up with a new present for each daughter that was always especially unique.  Unfortunately, when the eldest daughter was about to turn twenty, the Marquis of Hue was finally stumped.  He had thought of one hundred and fifty-three wonderfully distinct ideas over the past 20 years and now he could think of nothing else to give to them.  As his daughters' birthdays grew closer, the Marquis began to worry.  One evening, when the moon was big and bright, he went out to his garden to sit and think.  While he sat, staring at his beautifully exotic garden, his head in his hands, the he began to lose hope.   It was at this moment when the moon ducked behind a cloud and the garden became very, very dark.  The Marquis looked up at the sky out of curiosity and the clouds slowly began to drift apart.  As they did this, a very small portion of the garden became illuminated and the Marquis gasped in astonishment at what he saw.  There, in the middle of his garden, was the most gorgeous flower he had ever seen."

"A flower with ten pristine petals, each one an amazingly unique shade of color unlike any of the others.  The Marquis rose from his seat at once and hurried to the small flower.  Falling to his knees, the humble man dug the tiny plant out of the ground as carefully as he could.  He lifted the strange looking flower like a newborn baby, carefully bringing it inside.  After taking some top soil from his garden, the Marquis re-potted the tiny plant in a red porcelain bowl with gorgeous blue and white hand-painted Koi swimming across it.  When he was finished, he sat at his kitchen table staring at the tiny flower in awe."

"The petals ranged in color from blood orange to scarlet, citrine, indigo, amaranthine, tangerine, jade, coral, cerulean, and finally amber.  Upon looking even closer, the Marquis noticed tiny veins in each petal of the flower.  The veins too were strange and unique, as they took on the colors of the petals next to them.  For instance, the dark amaranthine petal's veins bore the bright color of the citrine petal next to it, and the citrine petal's veins bore the dark color of the amaranthine.  Every petal was, in this way, sharing a unique quality of its neighbor.   As the Marquis looked even closer still, he saw that what he thought were individual petals were in fact all growing as one from the same area at the top of the stem.  "Each petal is connected!"  Said the Marquis to himself as he stamped his feet in excitement.  "Finally, my search for the perfect gift is over!"

"On the following morning, the morning of his daughters' birthday, the Marquis sat in the kitchen anxiously awaiting his daughters.  When every one of them had come down the steps the Marquis wished them all a happy birthday and gave them each a kiss on the forehead.  "My lovely daughters," the Marquis said proudly as he stood before them, "I have found for you, the perfect gift.  Aside from your mother and the ten of you, this gift is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen in my entire life."  As the Marquis said this he stepped aside, revealing the potted flower to his daughters.  Each daughter marveled at the flower and its extraordinary beauty as they examined it.  After a few moments the youngest daughter, who was only ten years old, came up to her father and tugged on his coat tails.  "But sir, tis only one flower.  Who gets this one and what do the rest of us get?"  The Marquis looked down at his youngest daughter and smiled fondly while scooping her up into his arms.  He walked to the table where the flower was, sat down placing his daughter on his knee and then motioned for the rest of the girls to sit with him."

"Once they had all gathered around, he spoke.  "My daughters, this flower is a gift to each of you.  Look closely, for what it represents is something much more beautiful than any of its brilliant colors."  The girls did as their father asked, but no matter how hard they tried and no matter how many ways they looked at the flower, not one of them could guess what it was their father had meant.  When he realized they would need some guidance, the Marquis spoke up.  "Look at the stem of the plant my children, do you see how it grows upward but never stops?  What you first see as an individual petal is in fact an extension of the entire plant.  Each petal is physically connected to its sister; there is no separation between any one part of the plant.  Not only are they connected on the exterior, but look at the veins.  Each petal reflects a quality of its neighbor within itself.  So in short, my beautiful petals, this flower not only represents each of you, but it represents all of you.  You are all connected to each other and you each reflect one another's beauty within yourself."

When the Widow had finished her story Mr. Klemmens was staring at her intently.  "This is lesson two isn't it Sabishane?"  The Widow smiled her fantastic smile and stood up with great effort.  "Yes Mr. Klemmens, it is.  The second lesson in appreciation is connection.  We are all connected Mr. Klemmens; to each other, to the Earth, and to the paths that lead us to our destinations, wherever they may be.  If you can find these connections and remember to observe them, then you will learn many things.  You will appreciate your life and other's lives much more when you see the connections we share.  You will see just how sacred we all are.  Now, let's get a move on, shall we?"