The Gift of Music

Hunting.

That's what he'd set out to do.

Now his bow lay ten feet away, slowly dropping further out of his sight as he crept through the forest. Sunlight glinted off of the leaves and shone through the thickly-clustered trees, dappling the creek that he swiftly crossed.

Sage and pine permeated the air. There was a cacaphony of birds and frogs. The horizen was just starting to grow pink.

Yet it was none of this that had caused the hunter to abandon his quest.

There was another addition the evening show of beauty. Something sweeter. Something softer yet easily heard above the din of the birds. It was a sound that filled his ears and drew him forward.

It was getting closer now. It was a feminine voice. The hunter crept forward as silently as he could, and then stopped. The melodious sound was just beyond the grove of trees he was hiding behind.

He pushed aside leaves and stepped out. He was momentarily confused, as he had stepped into a meadow that stretched out to a cliff, mountains visible in the distance.

He looked around for the voice, and for a moment could not find it. He closed his eyes and listened. The sound had stopped. It seemed to darken the mood of the forest.

He looked around again, frantic to bring back the music.

And there she was.

Nestled beneath a willow tree, her head barely visible above the gently-waving grass. She was looking at him. When his gaze caught hers, she lowered her head farther down into the grass.

She was hiding from him.

He'd frightened her.

Instantly he removed his hat, the breeze instantly catching his curls. He threw the hat aside and went down on one knee.

"It's alright," he said, barely above a whisper, "I came to listen."

She drew further into the shadows.

"Don't be frightened." he urged. "I was hunting and I abandoned the chase to find the source of the music."

She raised her head. "You considered the song more important than the hunt?"

He nodded. Her voice was small, quiet, soft. Yet he somehow knew he could have heard it as well as he had heard her song.

Without another word, she rose up. Her dark hair hung loose around her shoulders, falling to her feet. Her dress was the color of the wildflowers around her.

It seemed as if she had lived on this hillside her entire life.

She sat a good distance away, on a low branch of her willow tree.

She glanced uncertainly at him, then began singing.

Her song was the same song, only made more beautiful by the sight of her. The hunter went to his knees, then quickly found a rock to sit on. He listened in silence to the song, afraid the slightest move he made would break the perfection of the moment.

The song seemed to come from deep inside of the girl, and seemed to reawaken the forest, prompting the birds to once again sing and the frogs to once again croak.

Her song was sweet and soft, but soon changed. It changed to a deeper sound, reminding the hunter of a storm blowing across the prairie. It was strong and still melodious. It changed once again to remind the hunter of a raging sea, wild and free.

It changed back to the original song, soft and sweet. The hunter felt he'd been taken on a journey, a quest, all in two minutes.

When she stopped, he looked up in surprise. It had seemed she could sing forever, and he was surprised to find himself expecting her to do so.

"Please continue." he whispered.

She shook her head. "You must make your own music now."

He shook his head and stood. "I know nothing of music except that your voice is the only real music I've ever heard!"

She stood and, fearing she would leave, he sprang forward and gently took her arm. "Please, one more song."

"You have been given a gift." she said. "A gift that is given only once."

He felt suddenly his paradise was disappearing, reality returning. He gripped her arm harder. "Please don't leave."

"The more I sing for you, the more it will hurt when I stop." She handed him a small, wooden instrument. "Make your own music."

"I don't know how..." he trailed off when she looked at him. Her eyes were darker than the darkest woods.

"You do." she said quietly, and he stood dumbstruck. She walked away and seemed to disappear into the forest.

He snapped out of his haze and ran after her. He ran in the direction she had gone, but she had truly disappeared, for there was no trace of human interference in this part of the forest.

He looked at the instrument. It was small and beautiful, delicate yet strong. Just like the woman. Perhaps it could make the same sounds as she could.

He tentavily lifted it to his lips and blew.

When the first note hit him, it was as if he'd known the instrument all his life. His fingers flew over the holes and more notes flowed out, filling his entire being with the same feeling the woman had.

He played more and walked as he did, allowing his feet to take him wherever they would. When he lifted the instrument from his lips, he looked around.

He was back where he had started, his bow in front of him, just where he'd dropped it.

It had seemed so long yet so swift. He found himself wondering if it had been a dream. The more he thought about the woman, the music, the cliff...

The cliff!

He ran back where he'd seen the girl, following the original path he'd taken to find the music. He ran and ran till he reached the familiar cluster of trees. He broke through and looked around.

Nothing.

A small break in the trees, but barren and rocky.

He looked at his flute. What had happened? Had it really been a dream? It had felt real, perfect.

He lifted the instrument back to his lips and played some more notes, which brightened the forest, it seemed. He walked back to the bow, this time directing his steps.

When he reached his bow and picked it up, his wondering ceased.

He finally realized now.

It wasn't the woman who gave him the perfection, the moment...

It was the music.

She had truly given him a gift, he realized, as he looked down at the flute.

She'd given him the gift of music.

A gift he could take with him anywhere.

He would cherish it.

Forever.