Prodigal: The Wooded Council

Painting done by Elizabeth of Pocket Vinyl at Avenue 209 Coffee House November 13, 2013.

Okay, so there's a twelve-seat council (going with Biblical allegory here) of woodland creatures.

I've been working on this for some time, revolving chiefly around this old bear (Karhun) and Barry, the main character in Traveling Tales.  Long story short, the prodigal son is coming home.

Here's my list so far:

1. Karhun
2. Old Turtle
3. Cardinal
4. Blue Jay
5. The Frog Prince
6. Buck
7. Fawn
8.
9.
10.
11.
12. The Prodigal Son

The Prodigal Son is the twelfth seat on the council, but has been absent for years and his homecoming has got Karhun all riled up.  (Maybe some Judas references here?)  There're reasons he's been away, all legitimate-like, but he's back nonetheless. 

Is "The Wooded Council" a decent name?  If not, what would you suggest?  What are the four other animals on the council?  I'd been using a rabbit as a courier of sorts to wake up the rest of the woodland creatures, but was hesitant to use him as a seat.

Also, think of the seating arrangement as thirteen tree stumps: one in the middle for speaking, and twelve others around it as intervals on a clock.

Does anyone read this blog?  If so, why aren't you commenting here or over at The Oracular Beard on Facebook?

Prodigal

The last of Winter's chill gave way as the grass bled green through melted snow.

Forest Kingdom had lived in relative peace in the years since the caretakers had taken leave.  They have been wonderful stewards of the land, their steps simple, leaving little trace. They took little and always returned more than was required.

The property, if one could call the earth such, was more a home than their house.  Living at one with such wilderness attuned them to the lay of the land and the inhabitants therein.  Plant and animal alike, they understood the delicate balance as they played among the strands of nature's web.

And so, as one of the forest creatures' reveries or much like old folks' tales, the faunic forest friends were amazed that these two cold no longer commune they way they used to--the way they ought.

PRODIGAL: An Introduction, of Sorts

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This was Rabbit’s fourth visit to Brown Bear’s cave this morning—he’d long since learned this was the best plan of attack.  It would be better off for all of them if Bear had time to adjust, and it helped to wake the big guy in stages.  Bear wasn’t so much a grump as he was out-and-out loud, but he also had one heck of a reach.  As far as Rabbit was concerned, don’t kill the messenger.
Brown Bear harrumphed across the forest floor, still groggy from being woken up entirely too early.  Rabbit game him plenty of room as he careened through the underbrush.  The burrow with the missus would be quite welcome at this juncture.  Rabbit himself had been up since well before the sun.  Wise Old Turtle had come to him sometime in the night.  The story was long and drawn out, which was really the only way he knew how to tell them.

This was not easy listening for Rabbit.  He’d had the gist of it by about halfway through, and was dying to hop to it.  He wanted to be on the move already!  Feet thumped, like he was running in place.  Jumping to conclusions were inherent flaws of Rabbit’s character; however, he supposed he should wait.

Lightning bugs swarmed by the bottleful, fit to burst, a continual pre-dawn light necessary for council business.  At any given moment half the fireflies would be lit, while the others would be resting.  This early in the morning, however, there were quite a few still yet to be woken, the light dim.

Though the day had recently been saved, New Spring was still days away.  The chill was still here, and the threat of death lingered.  The insects arrived early enough to light the way and understood.  This was important, so much so that it would be a sign of the times before, one that advertised everything imaginable and flashed

IMPORTANT

IMPORTANT

IMPORTANT.

They didn’t know what it was that deserved the attention, but the murmurings hinted at something.  Something big.  Something possibly worth dying for, or so the Forest Kingdom breathed.

It was always darkest before dawn, so it was said.  Tonite, this morning, wherever time fell, was like no other.  Miss Moon had set and though birds were calling, Sire Sun was still hours away.  Like the animals on their way, the clouds gathered as well and fixing to storm.  The wind had not failed to mention it either as it picked up speed and shouted through the trees.