Just beyond the main house existed a small ravine divided by the snaking switch back of shallow stream. Bordering water's choreography were simple, but well made structures of those beyond the talons of service. The burble of stream flow harmonized with trinkets suspended on porch overhangs, pirouetting at gentle breeze command. Here dwelled those of age or handicap in tranquility, grateful that their time in the hot Jamican sun was now something of choice and not expectation. There were fifteen buildings in all, snugged between sturdy trunkes of native tree, the boughs and fonds aiding in shelter against orb rising to glare steadfast on terra firma.
The black mount picked its' footing nimbly while crossing liquid expanse and without direction turned to gain the proximity of specific wood palace where a small basket tempted with overflow of mango. Sabastian reined in, eyeing shanty and open doorway that gaped like empty maw. Papillion was assisted down to soft turf, but he kept his seat somewhat hesitant of what the summons might entail. There were practices contained in structure's unintimidating aperance that may have been considered kindred to his own beliefs, but there were aspects of it that were unsettling to his conditioned senses.
A voice lured from within, it's owner unseen. It's texture always made him think of dry leaves fallen and caught in cyclonic Autum zephers; like aged parchment crumble in wretching clench. Again the voice sounded,
" Why you gon' keep your elders waitin', boy? Ant not'in here gon' bite..."
He slyed a look to Papillion, who acted as if he were not there as she offered basket bounty to the Noir. Slowly swinging from lofty perch, the soft soled boots struck firmer ground; stirring dust into breeze grasp.
"What you stan'in' round for, boy?" The ancient voice taunted, a small intertwine of humor threading its' stern overlay. " I gon' be ded an wisked away like dat dust you be kickin' up iffin you don' hurry along."
Her last wordings brought discomfort to the pit of his soul. The disembodied voice's owner had not seen anything in years...she was blind.
"Daydreamin' of dos' pretty town gales, got no time for dem that be not pleasin' to yer seeing senses?"
Sabastian stepped lightly upon porch surface which emitted tiny creak in response. "A dey come...you be jus' as wrinkled up as me and den dos lil gales will not be givin' you no mind..." A ripple of laughter bounced the dim holdings within.
He crossed the thresh hold, removing the hat of plummed splender and dropping his vision to flooring in respect.
"Don' you jus' look de charming prinz, der boy? All spiffed up in fancy trapes...You come 'ave a seat now and listen good to what I has to say. Listen wit' yer soul and heart cause de ear can lie..."
Sabastian's eyes adjusted slowly and with careful tread, found an old chair in which to sit. The air inside walled border was opresive still, regardless of the utilitarian window cover's movement. A single candle burned close to where she sat; giving of just enough lumination to hint at the Vodoun Woman's face. Defussed light and shadow danced as oddly paired partners over the gaunt, wrinkled features and sunken lids hidding useless orbs.
"Two night's ago, Ol' Man Owl come to me an' sit on dat ledge," One boney finger was raised in indication of the where window cover continued its struggle with the breeze. "An he speak to me of tings dat concern you an yours, boy. Las' night, I have a dream..." Her laughter sounded again, but berift of its' former amusement. "I see t'ree blackberds an' two udders who don' call dis island native, perched up in de knarl of de banyan. Two dem berds be wearin' crowns, behin' de one wit'out be anot'er berd dat not be like dem in soot feather. Anudder small berd wit flame hue..."
The single flame wavered almost to extinguish then regained stregnth, and her aged voice continued, "Dis odder berd be bigger den de t'ree and dey all four be watchin' de ground below. Slinking in an about dat ol' tree be a pack a hounds beyin' an snappin'. Dat flame berd keep tauntin' dem ol hounds an keep gettin' bolder by droppin' lower in de. Dem ol hounds keep jumpin an one manage to steal crown from one de sooty berds an scattle while anudder one he grab dat pritty red berd and pull em down. Now der be t'ree blackberd an dey odder one left up inna banyan...Dem hounds go away, chasin' de fir's one..."
Momma Rose leaned forward, "But dem ol' hounds will be back, now....An' now dey got de taste for dem in'na banyan ...."
She grew silent and momments passed with the quiet so heavy as to weigh down the breath in his lungs.
"You go on home now, pretty prinz....Takes care of yours....Dem hounds be comin'...."
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Aurore woke with a start, her heart raced and she raised suddenly as if confused to her surroundings.
