JUNIPER'S DAUGHTER

She walked over the mountains down from the north of the landmass, three quarters of her journey was over high ground above one thousand feet through weather that would kill a normal person. Snow fell steadily reducing visibility to ten metres when the freezing fog descended covering the barren moor land in white and grey contrasts from Her Mother’s womb, form where she descended just before. She belonged to the land, it to her in the wheel of life, a never-ending cycle of birth and death incarnate. Stepping over rough shaped rocks in a small sunken stream, she headed downwards following the watercourse to lower levels. Ice formed in pools striating the water surface in glittering artwork that no other eyes saw or would ever appreciate.

   Her dress was unsuitable for the weather and altitude, a multicoloured jacket figure hugging down to her trim narrow waste made of rough woven material resembling dyed goat hair, a long brown skirt made of velvet soaked and frozen like rock, size 6 black boots of tough punishment. Under her jacket a silk white blouse of such pure material that it was almost transparent over which a black jumper of thick black hair from a black longhaired Alsatian dog. Once her faithful travelling companion till mortal age took the animal cruelly from her, she still mourned her loss but fully understood nothing was permanent, forever. Around her delicate neck hung a circle of roughly beaten pure silver with a pentagram star on the facing side, a snake on the reverse. Her beautiful shoulder length hair was matted with rain, ice and snowflakes, frozen as the wind blew a few remaining strands past her clear green meadowful eyes. She missed nothing and knew everything, yet she was modest in her views and never boastful of her experience or her roots. Her journey was one of healing and of forgiveness; of the gift of insight and knowledge to a select few who would help spin the world away from darkness that had claimed so many lives and wrought so much destruction. Through Scotland she had slowly wandered travelling so very slowly often facing hostility and unkindness from the rough wild people she encountered, they remembered her though. A reaction was something positive; this built togetherness, a common understanding and forgiveness and reconciliation. Two individuals she met helped change part of the path into the light and of unconditional love and forgiveness, on its own it wasn’t enough, she desperately had to find two more people who a higher power had chosen to work with her, as before to stop this madness. After that to Wales, then to France to sort this mess mankind had created out, if she failed the world was doomed to death and darkness in the next cycle. The Devil was close at hand in all manner of affairs, recent events had proved that, of which she knew and understood more than those taking part.

   Over her left shoulder she carried a handmade bag containing her possessions, hers alone, the key to channelling her power when the time was right, not until. One thing she did remove from her bag was a leather water bottle from which she drank the last of the contents. Stopping by a frozen pool she looked at the ice before breaking it with her boot heel, water flooded out of the hole becoming sluggish immediately, she knelt and filled her bottle with no problem. Water seemed to flow freely into it, she stood to drink almost the full contents, refilled it again and continued on her journey. She removed some damp bread from her pocket eating it in thirty seconds, smiling at the taste of it, her own skills provided for her. She was a very resourceful young lady of many talents, of uncertain age but some secrets are just that – secret. Her Mother was much older than her but she never worried on this, with age comes responsibility and experience, more than equal to anything she had met up to now and the future? Evil wanted to claim her as its own, to destroy her if not but she didn’t worry, she was very aware and considered everything, acted on some things. She followed the winding stream that cut through three metre beds of peat revealing rocks and pebbles on its bed, age old with erosion on the north Pennines harried by unusually bad weather. Was her enemy trying to stop her now? She laughed aloud mocking the darkness with her light and good heart, invincible. Her eyes followed her path seeing nothing but her scene in guttural light, cut by snowflakes and mist like fog, a pretty site really. Nothing was visible over the steep streamsides.

   She came onto the area where it happened only a few days before, a battle of such ferocity that nothing survived. She knew various groups of people fought one another, to kill or take over or for fun, this small village was called Greenfield, situated further down the valley she walked down from the snowy hills. Looking up she saw snow filled peaks high above her, so separate from the death on the streets here amongst the stone houses and narrow streets. A block of houses slowly burned in the rain, smoke wafting down the valley driven by the wind, bodies lay on the street half decomposed by nature and animals. She stopped for minutes taking in the scene, skinny half starved people now dead in the gutter, hands tied behind their backs, no defence. Yards down the road a smoke blackened vehicle with a gun on the back, burnt corpses still manning it even now, English army massacre for what she knew. Reasons didn’t matter only death did this had to stop. Here people had fought bitterly and this was the result, what would the bigger towns and cities be like? She had to be ready for anything, prepare her mind. Stopping she meditated for an hour by a small spring next to a war memorial, enjoying the solace and tranquillity, asking her Mother to heal this wounded spot and forgive the souls which were trapped here earthbound in shock from violent death and war. Her eyes saw everything in her mind, emotions coursed through her agile mind from a place above her and so very distant yet not far at all, positivity came to this barren grey village. Lost lives would never be saved but here she stopped the Devil walking the earth more than momentarily. Small victories counted but turning the living even more, a world was no good with nobody living in it, no matter how imperfect it was. Life counted more than everything else, she could do it, would do it or darkness would fall absolute taking her as a slave to the Devil. He would rape her body, steal her magic and bind her to Him for eternity defeating her and her cycle of light to damnation. Darkness had to exist in equal amounts to light but not smother it, kill it, nor would light be allowed to only exist, a balance was needed. Finished, she left the village slowly walking down the single road through the thinning rain as blue sky briefly made an appearance. After an hour of walking she saw a man on his own, she cautiously approached him as he sat on a large stone by the side of the road. Stopping before him she asked permission to join him, to sit by his side, he nodded not saying a word, as she sat. She picked up his emotions and thoughts not wanting to intrude but needing to know just enough so she would be able to engage in conversation without scaring him to death.  When he talked it startled her but she smiled honestly at his openness and warmth after enduring recent actions here, three days ago viewing them from this very spot. He hadn’t moved at all since then, not eaten or drank. She offered him some water and the last of her bread she had freshly made earlier, he accepted thanking her through full mouthfuls. She wished she had more but she didn’t, that didn’t stop her making some right there and then before the man, his needs were great she realised. As she prepared her small fire from wood she carried, lighting it with smaller bits she rubbed together catching on wool kindling from a leather pouch, in a small hearth of stones from the side of the road, the man talked. He rambled on about the English army coming to town looking for enemy freedom fighters, a list of so-called traitors and trouble causers. When no one helped they forcibly took men of fighting age and shot them along with selected family members, it wasn’t all one sided though. A mother of one of the boys fought back setting on fire one of the military vehicles with a firebomb. She was shot to death soon after, the man here was left as a witness to tell others what happened, fear was the best weapon by far than bullets and soldiers. This was three days ago; he was nearly dead from thirst and had lost nearly a stone through not eating, stress and worry. Preparing the ingredients she soon had a rough loaf being prepared, she left it to cook as she listened to the story of hell from the man, as the bread rose she talked to him.

   “I see that you are deeply troubled by seeing what happened here by the army doing evil deeds, the work of the Devil. They are wrong to do that, no matter how right they may think they are. Only understanding and forgiveness will ever set the path for the end of this mess, this dark path. Here, take this bread and water, it’s all I have but it will help you. I must go now. Remember, look after yourself and tell others you see that I’m here. Everything will be all right, this I promise you. My name is Juniper’s Daughter,” Juniper’s Daughter slowly, calmly reassured the man. Putting out her fire she stood to leave, smiling as she did so. A feeling of calm and hope filled the once lost man. Then she was gone.