The Seventh Direction

PART FOUR: Force and Form. Episode 115

                                                    ["D/A" narrates —A.A.]

I still don't know who (or what) Baby Toadz is. Not that I'd thought that much about it. I think so, though, I could just as easily be referring to her as Master Baby J' or Baby El, what with those crazy Muck brothers being them. Jay and El . . . I never suspected them for that, though, though probably I should have, what with their extraordinary capability of being many places at once. And with Valley Forest and all being part of my school and training? Why wouldn't I suspect one or the other or both of them to be Baby? At least in part. I don't know. Maybe Baby has life of her own? Same as the stone people? That's always possible. Still, maybe it doesn't really matter much who or what Baby is. It's arguable, of course. Sure it is. But that's not the point. The point is this: maybe she will be useful (useful). I sometimes wonder, though. But no time to wonder right now (right, Dorothy?), time was on the move again, and we're already a day late.

Time to get a move on. Now. The trail had already been blazed—last night's Dreamtime had taken care of that. And my desire and intent were pretty much the same: Find my Wyl. (Hang on Baby!)

                                     ...........................

Up through breezy tree-leaves, one lone star peeked through the last layer of sunset. I felt I should like to wish upon it, as it fell twinkling to my eyes. Third-eye began to open . . . and Sleeping Giants awakened, dancing unseen in the stillness around me. A prayer from days gone by burst, sparkling in mind's eye, and I drifted with the words as they came down from the heavens. Baby started murmuring.

"Now I lay meeeeee down to—" And she stopped. 'Kee-arrrrr!' A scream shrilled through the overhanging trees. Hawk-El was calling, her fated invitation echoing through The Wood. (Desire. Intention. Hawk.) And Baby snuggled in. The familiar feeling of moving between worlds drew near, hovered, locked in. Then a moment unforgettable as I sucked into the echo, Baby hanging on.

Inside the echo, I felt peculiarly confined within myself. I could see no exit but a ring-of-chaos spiraling—a raw force on the horizon, barreling down on me. (Yikes!) But surely my desire brings this raw force upon me. But just as surely Hawk-El's cry spirals forward through my intention! Surely these spiraling to and fro forces (barreling forces! echoing forces! worlds about to collide!) will guide me in and through. Frantic and fractal, in their roundabout-way, they all belong to me!

An sudden El-whisper: 'Follow my cry to the Otherside.' A sudden Baby-blurt: "Hurrrrrrrrry!" A magically awkward Dorothy-moment (counsel! warning! direction!).'Kee-arrrrr!'

"Let's do this, Dorothy!" 

'Storm's a-brewin'—'

"It's a test, Dorothy."  

'It's dark and nebulous, Alaya—' 

"No worries, we're only dreaming."

'Not only, we're—' 

"C'mon, Dorothy. Through the corridor."

Rocketing movement through the corridor (whooooosh!), the corridor calm, an El-inspired calm (I'd felt it once before, when we went for our witchy broom ride, that night on Halloween), an El-inspired tubular calm, slick and steely-blue, wherein (rolling cloud! dark and heaving!) magically awkwardly suddenly, far-pole, a window of opportunity appeared, and (whooooosh!) we erupted into a land lit by a setting Sun.

"I am Hawk!"

'No. You are WITH Hawk. Soooooooon—' There was laughter in the background. I get it. (Soon).