HOLES IN THE FABRIC: Bk 1 The Weaver Prophecy

Chapter 22: The Forest of Whispers

Moana was spiralling through what she figured was a portal of some sort. She was neither here nor there yet or so it seemed as she swirled about inside its funnel. She definitely wasn’t outside the cavern anymore and she wasn’t anywhere else. She wasn’t panicking yet- although it took all her efforts not to. Around her swirled images and symbols. Some she recognised as Maori- they were not solid forms, yet they were far more real than anything she had ever seen. Some were patterns, like the taaniko patterns and borders found on cloaks and in weavings. Everything was turning in slow poetic motion.

   Moana marvelled at the sights passing her eyes and reached out her hands to touch the symbols. Pouff .They disappeared beneath her fingers. She floated, suspended in a chute of air, twisting and turning in a spiral direction over and over. Just when she was becoming accustomed to it, the symbols locked together into a configuration. Moana felt a decisive tug inside her stomach. There was a great whoosh and she was sucked clean out through the bottom. Out she flew, landing face down upon a mossy ground.

     It was cold and wet, yet soft. Moana enjoyed the smell of it. It was alive. A little smile found its way onto her face.  What a joy it was to see a living thing after being in the barren landscape of the cavern. She let her fingers squeeze its spongy texture, savouring the damp lying there. It helped her to refocus herself on this more physical dimension, while her mind slowly stopped spinning. Mentally she checked her body out. Nothing felt broke, just a little bumped about.

 Gingerly, she lifted her head and looked up to her left. There was no sign of the portal. It was dark here, but not like the cavern. It was a dappled shade, breezy and cool. She rolled over and lay on her back. Looking up she was delighted to see patterns of tree branches against the dark sky.

    She was in a forest surrounded by trees with ferns poking their noses out between them. Familiar ferns like the ones in her own back yard at home... Moana got to her feet and moved closer to the trees, reaching out her hand to touch them. They were real enough. The tree to her left looked like a kauri and next to it was a punga. It certainly looked like a forest at ‘home.’ Yet... there was something ‘different’ about this place, something she couldn’t quite put her finger on.

    Someone whispered. Moana heard it clear as day. She dropped down- wary of who might be in this place. She listened intently, standing stock still, checking her breathing wasn’t too loud. She heard it again. Sure as eggs- whispering. Moana peered into the darkness but could see no-one, only the trees. She held her breath to listen more carefully- who was it? The whispering started again. Moana strained her ears and held her breath as long as she could, but still could not make out what they were saying.

     “Hello?” she whispered into the trees (it seemed rude to shout and besides the last place she had been in the humoths had came running over). God only knows what was living in this place? She was more wary now, alert to her surroundings. They started again- whispering, words she could not hear, mutterings rebounding through the trees.

         “I can’t hear what you are saying?” Moana stood up very slowly checking out the trees on either side of her, she could not yet see anything there. Growing bolder she asked “Are you talking to me?” The whisperers did not answer.

          “Ezzy? Are you here? It’s me. Mum.” Moana moved forward a little. The whispers started again, they did not get sound any louder, nor did they stop. Even when she moved they sounded the same. They neither got louder or softer. This is freaking me out- time to get moving. She looked at the floor of the trees to see if there was a clear path- a way through the trees, but there didn’t seem to be one. There must be a reason why I am here?

         “Ezzy?” Moana called out again. She started to make her way through the trees, the whispers followed her every step. She stopped and spun around hoping to catch them. The whispers stopped. No-one. It was like playing the child’s game Queenie, Queenie who’s got the ball? Except there was no Queenie, no ball and she wasn’t having any fun. Moana reached out and touched the nearest tree, gathering her courage she circled the wide girth of the tree closest to her, her heart beating thump thump thump in her chest. Her breath short, sharp, quick. Her eyes scanning the ground looking for signs someone had just stood there, her ears waiting for a crackle of the leaves at the base. Nothing. She checked the next one. Nothing. The whispers started up again further away. She moved in their direction, checking every tree as she went. All her senses were on alert. She found no-one. Big fat zero.