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============= Fables of Night =============
============= by =============
============= Amani Naevelle =============
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A collection of fables teaching some of Mother Night's lessons.

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=============== Chapter One: Fear ================
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'Fear is but the web in which the spider sits. My fear is the web, and I the
spider. There is no fear but that which I use to ensnare.'

~ Mother Night's Liturgy Against Fear

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======== The Wolf and The Tree =========
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A young wolf, out on his own for the first time in his life, ran through the
forest with the particular loping gait his kind was known for. Though he ran, he
was in no hurry, for he had eaten well of the pack's last kill before deciding
to set out on his own - as young wolves sometimes will do. As he traveled, he
scented the leaf strewn earth before him and the crisp fall air around him. He
stopped and drank at streams and occasionally he stopped to scare small birds
into the air and small creatures into their hidey-holes.

As time passed and day turned to dusk, the young wolf decided he was hungry and
that it was time to find some game. It did not take him long, this decided, to
find the trail of a rabbit. It was a faint trail, the rabbit had long since
passed through the area, but he had a keen sense of smell and set to tracking
his dinner down with confidence.

Dusk quickly gave way to nightfall and the young wolf paid no attention, such
was his concentration on the trail of scent which was growing ever stronger.
However, a strange sound above and ahead of the trail caused the young wolf to
look up and when he did he stopped running and stared.

Further up the very trail he was following was the most horrible apparition the
young wolf had ever seen. It was incomprehensible, the shape foreign to anything
he had ever known. It frightened the young wolf so much that he was frozen in
place, crouched down. He snarled and whined by turns and his fur bristled and
his ears laid back. He sat on the cusp of fleeing madly into the darkness when a
voice spoke from somewhere above and to the right of him.

"Why do you stop your hunt, wolf?"

The young wolf could not see anything in the darkness, keen though his eyesight
was, that would be speaking to him. However, he answered, "Do you not see that?
Up ahead? The trail I follow leads right by whatever it is. I do not wish to
become some monster's dinner in the hunt for my own!"

"And I had been lead to believe that wolves were brave. That the Great Spirit of
Wolf even lends His bravery to others, it is such a strong trait amongst your
kind. Do you prove the rule, young pup? Are you so far removed from your own
nature that you would cower like the very rabbit you hunt? Are you, in fact, the
prey?"

Her words, coldly spoken and full of disdain, stung the young wolf. He was no
coward! He was not prey! He was a wolf and a hunter and would prove his bravery
now. And so, he made his way down the trail though he could not help the tremble
that ran through his frame as he did so. As he approached, it became clear that
the fearful apparition was not what it seemed.

The closer the young wolf got to the monstrous shape looming over the trail, the
more clearly he could make out the details in the darkness and before long he
realized that the thing he had been so afraid of was nothing more than a tree!
What he had taken for reaching arms and grasping claws were simply branches
bared by the autumn weather. What he'd taken for a hulking, deformed body was
simply the wide and knotted trunk of an old tree. Having faced his fear, the
wolf realized it had all been in his mind to begin with.

Pleased with this discovery, he called out a thanks to the formless voice of the
Night and continued his hunt for the rabbit. It did not take the young wolf long
to discover the rabbit's burrow. The creature had made her home within a hollow
log. However, the wolf could smell the rot in the wood. The tiny insects
burrowing through it, stealing the strength from the log and he knew that this
was no barrier between him and the prey he sought.

Rising up on his hind legs, the wolf slammed his strong forepaws into the soft
wood, tearing at it with his claws. He bit at it and shook the log, snarling
viciously as he did so. Sure enough, the rabbit, was frightened out of her home
and dashed away. The young wolf, giving a joyful howl, gave chase.

The young wolf was fast, but the rabbit was faster and even more agile. In a
straight chase, the young wolf began to realize, he was going to lose. However,
a plan came to the young wolf. He remembered the tree and how it had frightened
him so. If it should scare one such as he, then a rabbit would be even more
affected, timid creatures that they were. With this idea in mind, the young wolf
began chasing the rabbit with a purpose. He herded her towards the large tree.

When the rabbit spotted the looming, grasping shape along the trail, she was
undone. She paused in her flight, the terror of moving forward toward the
unknown danger warring with the terror of the chasing wolf. In that moment of
hesitation, the young wolf was able to close the distance between them and
pounce.

As the young wolf enjoyed his dinner, he thought about the lesson the voice of
the Darkness had taught him and knew he would never forget it.

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============ Chapter Two: Adaptation =============
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'The shadows of Mother Night are an ever-shifting being. They evolve and reshape
with the movement of Father Sun and Mother Night, adapting to their new
environment. Adaptation is the tool of the strong.'

~ Mother Night's Liturgy of Adaptation

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======= The Spider and The Deer ========
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There once was a spider who sat in her web, watching the comings and goings on
the forest floor. As she spent a great deal of time patiently awaiting her next
meal to find itself caught in her web, she had time to notice things. She had
time to consider the things she noticed. She had time to wonder about the
reasons for things. Some such things, she could easily figure out. Others, she
could not.

It was one such puzzle that had her mind occupied one evening as the last faded
light bled from the sky and Mother Night held full sway once more. "Why do the
deer starve, when they are surrounded by abundance?" The spider mused aloud.

"It is a good question, perhaps you should try to find out."

The spider heard the voice that whispered through the darkness and shadows of
her perch and agreed. Her larder of preserved meals was full. There were several
cocoons encasing the corpses of creatures unwise or unlucky enough to be caught
in her web. She could afford to spend an evening discovering the reason for this
oddity that bothered her so.

So, the spider chose a deer, a doe who trembled with hunger and whose ribs were
easily visible even in the darkness. The creature was clearly starving. But,
why? Determined to find out, the spider stalked her chosen deer, watching her
every move.

She saw the deer pass young saplings with tender bark. She saw the deer pass
grass shoots and fern growths. She saw the deer pass berries and nuts - things
even the two legged dwellers of the forest knew how to find, though only with
the help of Brother Squirrel. But still, a wild animal should have better
instincts than a one of the two-legged who depended upon the gifts of a Spirit
to find food.

Why didn't the deer eat? It boggled the spider's mind.

Finally, she could take it no longer. Nothing she had seen told her more than
she already knew. She knew the deer weren't eating - one look at them told her
that much. She could learn nothing new by simply watching a doe not eat. So, she
climbed down from the tree she had been perched in and eased up on the deer.
Though the spider was at least as large as the doe herself was, the deer did not
notice the spider's approach, so far gone in her hunger was she.

"Why do you not eat?" The spider asked the deer, pointing with one leg at some
perfectly edible greenery nearby.

"I would not like to eat that," the deer replied sadly, too hungry to be scared
of the huge predator so close.

"Why ever not?"

"It looks wrong and would taste bad," the doe insisted.

"Have you tried it?"

"Of course not, but I know it is different just by looking at it. What if I
tried it and got sick? What if it tasted so bad that it choked me?" The deer's
voice became more and more frantic as she went on to describe all the ways
trying the food might be bad.

"Is starving not worse than trying something new?" The spider was completely
amazed by the doe's attitude. How had these creatures managed to survive even as
well as they had with that sort of thinking?

The deer just shrugged, "I know starvation. Who knows what might happen if I
were to eat that."

The spider clicked her mandibles together thoughtfully for a few moments
considering what the deer had said and what she herself had observed. Not just
of the deer, but of the other creatures of the forest - even the two-legged
ones. Finally, she came to a conclusion.

"I know why you are starving, now," the spider stated firmly. "I had wondered so
long because there is no sensible reason for any creature to starve in the
forest. Now that I have spoken with you, I understand."

"Oh?" The deer tilted her head curiously, "Why is it then?"

"Because you are monumentally stupid," the spider replied before turning to
spray thick strands of webbing on the deer who, finally realizing the danger she
was in, began to thrash and try to escape.

"You are afraid to try new things because something bad might happen, so you
allow yourself to starve rather than to eat the food that surrounds you. Well,
let it not be said that spiders are so stupid! You will never see a spider
starve when there is food to be had." With that, the spider sunk her fangs into
the trapped deer's flank, pumping her poison. After a few moments, the deer's
struggles ceased.

As the spider went about the business of wrapping her newest addition to her
food cache in a tight cocoon of silk, the voice of Mother Night spoke again,
"You found the answer, then?"

"Yes, I did." Some creatures were able to adapt to the world around them, taking
advantage of opportunities as they came. Those were the creatures who lived.
Others refused to do so and those were the ones who were eaten by those who
lived.

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=========== Chapter Three: Vengeance =============
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'The brooding of the shadows will ever turn aside the blade of the wrathful.
Ever will the vengeance formed of careful thought and darkness bring vengeance
while they sleep. The wrath of the blade is short and unfulfilling, the
vengeance of the shadows mars the very soul.'

~ Mother Night's Liturgy of Vengeance

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======= The Cockatrice and the Viper =======
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One night a slight rustling noise awoke a young cockatrice chick from his
slumber. It was very dark and the young chick could not see very well past the
clutch of brothers and sisters surrounding him, huddled together for warmth. But
he heard the rustling noise again, closer this time. It was the sound of
something moving through the leaves, along the ground and approaching the nest.

"What is that?" One of his sisters asked, fearfully. The cockatrice chicks were
not so formidable as adults were. Their feathers were downy and their scales
were soft. They did not yet have the ability to burn their attackers either. It
was a dangerous time for the little clutch of chicks and a predator was stalking
the nest.

"I don't know," the young chick replied. He and his brothers and sisters all of
whom were awake now, huddled closer, seeking a feeling of security. Mother was
hunting, as she often was. It took a great deal of meat to feed a clutch of
growing cockatrices.

The rustling noise grew closer and closer and soon, a shape began to emerge from
the darkness, low and close to the ground. The chick did notknow what it was. It
was like a green stick that moved in an undulating pattern as it quickly,
relentlessly approached.

The creature poked its triangular shaped head into the nest and the chick could
see now that it was scaled. A long forked tongue extended and unblinking eyes
beneath frilled, lash-like scales stared at the chicks. For a long moment,
nothing happened. The creature stared at the chicks and the chicks stared back.
But then, the creature coiled its length and struck, biting one of the chicks.

The rest of the chicks panicked and with their panic, came anger. Though they
were not formidable as an adult, they were still cockatrice and responded to the
hostile invasion with the same temper as any adult under attack. Unfortunately,
they did not have the ability to match their fury.

One by one, the creature bit the chicks and the ones he bit would begin to spasm
and kreel in pain and then soon die. The young chick who'd first heard the
creature approach had been knocked down by the thrashing of a bitten brother.
But he struggled, determined to regain his footing, to be ready to charge in
righteous fury at the invader to his home.

Before he got to his feet, however, a cold voice whispered in his ear, "So, you
would die like all the rest? Foolishly flinging yourself at certain death?" The
words, full of contempt, made the young chick pause. He thought about what She
said. What good was all of his anger with no ability or skill to turn it to good
use? What good would another dead chick do?

So, he decided to wait. He lay very still amongst his dead siblings as the
creature waited to see if any others would attack. When none did, the creature
moved forward and the young chick watched as one of his sisters was swallowed
whole. Then, full apparently, the creature went away.

It was still dark when the young chick's mother returned. She took in the sight
of the nest filled with dead chicks and made an angry screeching sound. The
young chick was startled awake from his dose and jumped up. "What happened?" The
mother cockatrice asked the young chick when she saw him.

"A creature came. It was long and green and had scales. It bit them and they
died."

"How is it you survived?"

"I hid," the chick admitted sadly, sure he would be in trouble now.

"You were wise to hide, hatchling. You have much growing to do before you will
defeat vipers in a battle." The mother cockatrice began picking the dead chicks
out of the nest, dropping them on the ground beside it.

"Do you think that is what She meant, mother?" The young chick watched as his
mother began pulling strips of flesh off his dead brothers and sisters.

"Who, youngling?"

"There was a voice in the Darkness. She's why I thought to wait and not attack
like the others."

"It was good to listen to that voice when you hear it, youngling. Mother Night
is always teaching, if we but listen. And yes, I believe that is what She meant.
When you are strong, you can seek your revenge on the viper. But for now, you
must grow." With those words she fed the young chick the flesh of his dead
siblings and he ate, knowing he grew stronger with every bite and that one day,
the viper would fear him instead.

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======== Chapter Four: Patience ========
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'There is a balance of Night and day. Biding Her time, Mother Night waits for
Her turn to rule. Utmost patience is an exercised trait.'

~ Mother Night's Liturgy of Patience

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======== The Lion and The Lamb =========
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The lamb was not very smart, but he was extremely observant. The mountain lion
cub, on the other hand, was actually quite smart, just not very patient.
Unfortunately, being impatient meant that the lamb's natural stupidity was very
well compensated by his ability to pay attention to the world around him. When
the mountain lion cub made her move too soon, as was inevitable it seemed, the
lamb got away easily.

The one good thing was that because he was so dim, he soon forgot his fright.
Forgot that there was a mountain lion cub nearby at all and the lion could try
again.

This game had been going on all day, ever since the mountain lion cub's mother
had left the lair to hunt further up the mountain. The cub, bored, had wandered
away from the lair as well, and happened upon a small herd of fluffy sheep
including a few lambs. The lion cub considered herself every bit as good a
hunter as her mother. After all, occasionally her mother would bring injured
creatures back to the lair to let her practice her skills. She didn't even need
help killing them anymore.

So, the mountain lion cub decided that it was time for her to graduate to the
next level in her training. She would surprise her mother with a kill of her
own!

However, things were not going to plan. For one thing, hunting was -not- as easy
as it looked. There were so many things to be mindful of. The wind, the
placement of her paws, the height of her crouch, the distance she must close
before trying to pounce, all of it was important and forgetting even one detail
would ruin the attack.

Then, there was the waiting. So much of hunting was waiting. Waiting for the
right moment, for the lamb to be in just the right spot, for the wind to shift.
This was really the most difficult part for the mountain lion cub. She was full
of energy and crouching still for untold amounts of time, waiting until the lamb
had wandered to within her reach was difficult. She invariably pounced too
early, scaring the lamb away and winding up with nothing.

The sun was setting and the mountain lion cub was well and truly sick of the
'game' she'd started earlier that day. She was tired and hungry and so, when she
heard her mother's call, she was more than happy to abandon her 'hunt' and
return the lair.

Her mother was there waiting with a freshly killed deer which she'd already torn
into. The cub joined her mother without a word and began eating as well. After
both had their fill, they settled down to sleep. But sleep did not come quickly
or easily for the mountain lion cub.

How did her mother succeed in hunting? It was almost impossibly difficult. She'd
wanted to ask her mother, but didn't want to admit her own failure or fears.
What if she never became a hunter? Finally, giving up on sleeping for the
moment, the mountain lion cub got up from her mother's side and made her way to
the mouth of the lair. She stared out at the valley below, enshrouded in
darkness and wondered what became of a mountain lion who could not hunt.

"You give up too easily, lion."

The voice was rich with cool disdain and seemed to come from all around. The cub
hunkered down a bit and answered, "I'm too impatient to hunt. I can't seem to
make myself wait until the right time and the lamb got away every time I tried."

"So, you are impatient to be more patient? Foolish, cub. Patience is not
something you are born with. If you give up on developing it, you deserve your
fate."

"What do you mean?" The cub asked, but the voice in the Darkness did not speak
again. After a while, the cub returned to her mother's side to sleep, pondering
the words spoken by the Night.

The next morning, the mountain lion cub stretched and made her way outside where
her mother was lounging in the sun. "Good morning, mother."

"Good morning, dear. Did you sleep well?"

The young mountain lion made an affirmative noise as she plopped down next to
her mother. After a few moments, of thought, she asked, "Were you always good at
hunting?"

Her mother laughed, "Goodness, no. When I was young, I was horrible at it. I
lost three out of four kills. It took a lot of practice to improve. But, when
it's improve or starve, what choice have you?"

"So, you had to learn how to be patient?" The cub remembered Night's words and
knew what She meant now. One was not born patient. Like her mother said, it took
practice. She decided that she would continue to practice hunting and practice
being patient. She would improve as well.

Later that day, when her mother went hunting, she went back down the valley and
found the sheep again to continue her practicing. She had learned the lesson
well.