Gather around, cublings, and hear my tale. It is a tale of wonder... What's that you say? You're not cublings? You're children? All right then, gather around, children, and hear my tale. It is a tale of wonder and magic, a tale of adventure, danger, and bravery. It is my tale, for I, Flame Song, lived it.

Hear me now, I am Flame Song, the story-teller of the phoenix clan of the race of firecats. What's that? You don't know what a phoenix is? Well, it's... You don't know what a firecat is either? I think I had better start at the beginning then.

At the beginning of all things, there was the Creator. The Creator made the Bright Ones, and the Bright Ones made the world. What's that? You say that's not how the world was made? Perhaps it's not how your world was made, I don't know that tale, but it's how my world was made. Now hush and let me finish.

The Creator made the Bright Ones, and the Bright ones made the world. They made many wonders, things great and small, and among the things they made was the firecat. Now the firecat is the cousin of the snow leopard, and here is why. The Bright One who made the snow leopard liked the idea so very much that she decided to make a second one, but to make it even better by making it a magical creature. So she made the firecat, and gave it five gifts.

The first gift was that of beauty. The firecat's fur is white, striped with orange, yellow and red so that it resembles flames on snow. Its eyes are blue as the sky and its fur is deep and soft. A firecat is grace in motion when it runs.

The second gift was that of intelligence. A firecat is not an animal. That I sit here and speak with you now is proof of this. The firecat is as intelligent as any creature upon this Earth, be it human or other.

The third gift was of protection. A fircat cannot be harmed by flames. I could walk through the greatest fire ever lit and take not harm. Firecat cubs play with flames the way a baby plays with a rattle.

The fourth gift was the gift of magic. A firecat can light a fire anywhere. The lands where we dwell are cold. The snow falls most of the year. Summer is short, winter is long. Without or fires we could not live as we do.

The fifth gift was of song. The firecat can sing like no creature on earth. Our voices are sweet and strong. We can howl like the wolves with the winter wind, or sing sweet melodies that blend with the spring breezes.

That is what a firecat is.

My ancestor's name was Sky Fire, and she met a phoenix when she was in her youth. But this is not all of the tale, for not only did they meet, they fell in love!

Such a thing had never been since the beginning, but the Bright Ones blessed their love and so they were wed and had children. Their children were a marvel to behold, for though they looked much like their mother, they had their father's firey wings and flaming eyes.

Now they, when they were grown, went out and wandered the world, but one of them stayed among his mother's people. He married and had children, but they were not winged. Indeed, they were marked only by this, that their mother's firecat blue eyes and their father's flame yellow had combined in them to produce green.

And from them are descended all of the phoenix tribe, but most have blue eyes. Very rarely a cub will be born with the phoenix eyes, green as grass in summer, and this is thought to be the mark of one destined for greatness.

What is it this time? Oh, you've noticed my eyes. Yes, they are green. Now hush and let me finish my story! Where was I? Oh yes, the Phoenix tribe...

When young firecats reach a certain age, they must find their name song. Now different tribes do this in different ways, but in the Phoenix tribe, a young firecat goes on a journey. Some say it's the wandering Phoenix blood that makes us do this, for most rituals of naming are done within the tribe's territory, but in the Phoenix tribe we are required to go beyond the tribal lands to find our name.

So it was that upon the eve of the new year after my twelfth birthday I gathered with several others of my age to begin my journey. Our new year comes with the melting snow and the breeze from the south was cool but not cold. Cloud Singer, the story-teller, sung us the songs of beginnings, and the songs of the tribe as the moon set. When the sun rose we ran from the village out into the snowy wilderness, each of us taking a different direction.

I ran west, away from the sunrise, towards its setting that night. I ran far that day and as far the next and the next until I had passed well beyond the tundra plains where the Phoenix tribe lived and into a deep forest. I wandered there for many days, hunting my food by the day, singing to the moon at night. Then, in the side of a rocky hill I found a strange den. A cave, the depth of which I couldn't see and which smelled of something much like firecat, and yet not like. The cave seemed empty, so I found a place to hide and waited for whatever lived there to come home.

As the sun set, the cave's owner returned and my wait was proved worthwhile. The occupant of the cave was a snow leopard. I had heard the songs, so I knew of them, but they do not like the flat tundra that my tribe favored, so I had never hoped to see one. This one was still living very low for one of their mountain dwelling kind, so I counted it a sign of luck for me.

I did not want to disturb my unmagical cousin, so I left that place. That very night as I sat by my fire and watched the moon set I thought of a melody, so I sang. The words came to me without thought, as natural as if I'd known them all my life.

Fire is life. Flickering and flaring, ever changing, ever the same. It sings to the soul, mesmerizing the eyes and the mind. Fire is friend and foe, savior and destroyer. It dances! I am the dance, I am the dancer. I am the song, I am the singer of the flame song. From the beginning to the end, the ashes... and the spark.

I sang my song and I knew I had found my name song. I ran long the next day, and for many days after, returning to my home. At last I found myself back on the tundra plains of my tribe. Ahead was my village. I was welcomed home by my parents and by the elders of the tribe. We waited for the others who had gone name seeking to return, but the wait was not long for I was among the last. Then the whole tribe sang each of our new-found name songs in turn, welcoming us into the tribe as adults.

It was not long before I was to have my adulthood and my courage tested in ways that I had never imagined.

A playful breeze was blowing across the tundra, warm and mild with the coming of spring. I sniffed the breeze, and I smelled something strange and dangerous, like nothing I had ever smelled before. I sniffed again, this time finding a familiar thread of scent in the strange smell.

Wolf.

But not like any wolf I had smelled before. Wolves were no harm, only when the winter was hard and they were near starvation would they dare to attack a firecat tribe. The Wolf tribe had even befriended a wild wolf pack. Their name song journey involved singing with the wild wolves, taking the tune of their name song from the howling of the pack. But this wolf smelled of sickness and wrongness, and mingled with its smell was the scent of another creature, an animal that I had never smelled before.

I heard it next, howling with a voice full of pain and sorrow. A wolf's howl is mournful and sad, but this was more than that. It was tormented, the song of a doomed soul. And it was coming toward the village.

Others had heard it too, but many of the warriors of the tribe were out hunting that day. I and my brother were there, and many of our year mates as well. Cloud Singer, the story-teller, was there with his brother, Ghost Flame. They came out of the dens dug into the ground. I and the others tending cubs herded them back into the dens.

The wolf was in sight now, running across the tundra, headed straight for our village. My year mates, Cloud Singer, Ghost Flame and I stood in the center of the village waiting. Then I heard a cub's terrified cry. It was Flash Flame. In the confusion of frightened cubs I hadn't seen Flash Flame. I had assumed one of the others had taken him in with her cubs, but he had apparently chased his tail outside the village in the confusion and now he was directly in the wolf's path!

I ran as I had never run before, and behind me raced Cloud Singer and Ghost Flame, but driven my desperation I reached Flash Flame first, just moments before the wolf.

Hurling myself between the wolf and my brother, I bared my fangs, preparing to fight. The wolf snarled and snapped, frothing and raging. There was no sanity in its eyes, the creature was utterly mad. I didn't know the reason then, but I later learned.

The poor thing had been bitten by a were-wolf. Now when a were-wolf bites a human, the human usually becomes another were-wolf, but when one bites a wolf, occasionally the wolf will become a were-human. For a human to become an animal is a hard thing, but for an animal to suddenly be human is much harder. They have no understanding of what has happened, and to suddenly have a human mind, to think as a human is such a shock that if often drives them mad.

That is what had happened to the wolf. Unable to bear being human, but equally unable to rid itself of the curse, it had come to the village, the last shreds of its sanity hoping that we would put it out of its misery. But the instinct for life is strong, and in its madness it fought fiercely.

I met its fierceness with a savagery born of desperation. Flash Flame was huddled, terrified, just behind me, and though I screamed at him to run, he was frozen with fear and could not move. Cloud Singer and Ghost Flame were coming, but they were still yards away and as the wolf attacked, the few seconds they needed to cross those yards seemed to take an eternity.

We clashed together and drew apart. Fangs bared, snarling, we met and drew away again and again. I came away from our first clash with a shallow gash in my neck, but the wolf retreated from my next attack limping, its front left leg shredded. But in its madness, the wound didn't even slow it and it came on again and again. Once more I pulled back wounded, this time a deep slash in one shoulder. I hadn't even felt the pain, but I found my foreleg wasn't working as it should. I knew that the next clash might be the last for me, but suddenly Cloud Singer was there, darting behind the wolf to hamstring him, and Ghost Flame rushed in from

the side, locking his jaws around the wolf's neck. The wolf struggled and fought, but the life gradually drained out of it and at last it went limp.

I too went limp, collapsing from shock and exhaustion. The battle had lasted mere seconds, but I felt as if I had fought for hours.

Cloud Singer picked up Flash Flame by the scruff of his neck and carried the cub back to the village. Ghost Flame, the massive old warrior still strong despite his age, picked me up the same way and followed his brother, carrying me as if I weighed no more then Flash Flame did.

When the warriors returned home from the hunt and discovered what had happened, I was hailed as a hero. I was more interested in resting at the time than in praise, so I turned down the chieftan's offer of a victory feast. My wounds seemed slight, but they were healing slowly so I spent most of the next few weeks in bed.

As time passed my condition improved and nearly three weeks after the battle I was up and about. I was feeling better, though still a bit weak and prone to tire easily.

I recall vividly what happened next. Only a day or two after I had recovered I was sitting around the fire with several others, singing the moon up as we often did on lonely nights. I could see the faint glow on the eastern horizon as moonrise approached. There were no clouds and the spring breeze was crisp and cool, blowing from the distant southern forests.

As the first bright splinter of the full moon showed above the horizon I felt a strange dizziness pass over me like a wave. My voice faltered. The moon rose higher and more waves, each stronger then the one before, swept over me. I fell to the ground, feeling ill. Suddenly the waves changed and now pain washed down every nerve. I cried out. I could dimly see the others looking over me, but my vision clouded over.

Then the pain was gone and my vision cleared, but something was wrong. I could see the other firecats draw back from me in surprise. I looked down at myself and realized why. I had changed. In that instant I understood the nature of the wolf and, as strange thoughts and sensations swept over me, I understood also why he had gone insane.

I was a human. I had never seen one, but there was no mistaking that way I looked. My mind felt different. Looking at my friends and family around me I had to restrain myself from screaming. Instinctively I saw them as animals, as dangerous monsters.

After a moment of panic, half caused by the other firecats and half by my own fear of this strange form I now wore, I calmed myself.

My friends and family also overcame their fear of me, as instinctive as mine of them. They brought furs so that I would be warm, for my bare skin shivered in the air that now seemed cold.

They also brought Cloud Singer the shaman. He spoke with me, explaining what had happened and helping me to understand, until the moon went down.

As the edge of the round orb touched the horizon I again felt dizziness sweep over me. My sight blurred and pain sizzled down each nerve. When at last the final sliver of the moon had vanished I arose, clothed again in my own soft fur.

All that, children, was many years ago and much has happened to me since, but that is my tale. It is the tale of my people, my tribe, and of how I myself became what I am today. Perhaps another time I will tell you one of the many other tales I know, but I always tell this tale first.

Hear me now, for I am Flame Song, the story-teller of the Phoenix tribe of the firecat people, and this is my tale.

The Credits:

All the buttons, bars, and other doodads on this page are courtesy of

This page hosted by Get your ownFree Home Page

Hosted by www.Geocities.ws