“Tis a fine tale ma’am for I know well the devil that hides and tricks and plays games with us mere mortals, you are a sharp one I think…” she smiled. Though a child of the light the deep warmth of the room was pleasant as was the food and the mead. So few these days offered hospitality, but this woman understood the rules, and in fact performed her role perfectly. Yet one would expect as much, from the red hair and the ascent that this woman wore so easily. Gisella had no fear of the oaf for in her time she had dealt with worse than him.<br/><br/>The bête considered the story for short time taking in the tale and the nuances and symbols was there a secret hidden? If there was Gisella wanted it. However it would be impolite not to return a tale, after all she had been given part of the poet’s fee.<br/><br/>Many tales spun within her mind, for the whispers upon the wind and the tales from many lands were no unusual to her kind. The shared so much, even if the hoarded too. Words were always welcome to the winds so that Gaia might hear them.<br/><br/>“Now let me see, let me think…hmmmm I believe the tale that might pay for my supper. It was offered to me by an old Jewish man as I travelled.”<br/><br/>“Well let me begin, there was a mother bird, she had three chicks and they all wanted to cross the river and it was an angry river. She put one of the small ones under her wing and began to fly. As she flew across the fast flowing river she asked it if the one so warm in her wings would answer a question. Of course the chick said yes.<br/><br/>So the mother asked “Would you carry me in my old age as I carry you now?”<br/><br/>“Yes I would mother, of course.”<br/><br/>The mother bird spoke then. “I see that you lie.” With that she let her chick fall to the river and drown.<br/><br/>Thus she flew back to the second chick and again it offered the same answer to her and thus she let her chick fall to the river knowing that it lied.<br/><br/>Finally the mother bird returned to her third chick and picked it up under her wing, asking that same question. The answer this time was different. “No mother for I will have chicks of my own to carry. I could not carry you too…”<br/><br/>This chick was taken over the river for this was the one that spoke true.<br/><br/><br/>I am not the storyteller you are but I am never one to be silent .