Artwork for podcast Saga Kraft
Episode 1121st October 2020 • Saga Kraft • Betsy Bergstrom, Gabriela Sarna, Sea Gabriel: Saga Kraft
00:00:00 00:48:26

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Welcome to saga craft myths, fairytales, legends stories, comfort us, inspire us and heal us. Please join us as we share stories both old and no more than anything. We're open to the story and it's unfolding at times. It may be one story told by one person at times it's the same story told through three different voices.

In the end, we go where the story takes us and we invite you to follow. I'm C a writer, artist, and storyteller. I'm Betsy, a medium and teacher of mystery traditions. I'm Gabriela, an artist and practitioner of folk magic. We are magical in training today. We'll be exploring the world of the familiar and this reality.

And another reality that's married to ours. The familiar, the fetch, the animal co Walker, and here are three different takes on that. I mean, it start. So this is my story. Tess's unfamiliar, familiar tests, sobbed quietly in her bed. The sounds muffled by her tear. Drenched quilt. Her scalp still smarted from the brisk and somewhat angry hair brushing that her mother had given her before tucking her under the covers and snapping off the light test.

This curly hair always seemed to take the brunt of her mother's anger or disapproval. When her footsteps proceeded down the stairs, tests, tears had begun. She wasn't crying about her hair, though. It did still hurt. What had happened earlier that day in the pet store was where her misery, because the worst part, it was that she had been so certain that the little Lafayette rabbit was the pet that she'd been looking for.

She'd been searching for a few years. Her mother had told her each time she fell head over heels in love with an animal, a tropical bird or a snake at the pet store that it was not appropriate for her. The way she said it with a tight lip look of disapproval made her own disappointment feels so much worse.

The pet store owner always looked at tests with a little worry line between his brows. When this happened, she knew, he felt sorry for her and would try to comfort her by letting her help with some of the small tasks of maintaining and caring for the animals. When tests was there by herself. He was very careful to be non-committal when tests would exclaim in rapture over a new arrival, we'll see when your mother comes, he would say kindly, he didn't want to make it any worse for the little girl.

He had his suspicions about her mother, but keeping out of people's business is what had kept him in business in this little town. As test as tears continue the memory of the soft and warm little rabbit body with the extra long ears began to fade her dreams of the rabbit, Hutch and basket filled with doll sized quilts for the bunny to snuggle and also faded.

Eventually as your tears slowed down, she heard the wind moving through the trees and the bare branches beginning to tap on her bedroom window tops that were very clear. Now that the leaves had all the dropped away, the clouds rushed past in a sky with a nearly full moon. Sometimes shading it, then revealing the moons, luminous or shape.

The branch tapping continue sometimes random, sometimes seeming to be in the pattern of a little song, sleep little one's sleep. She could almost hear the wind singing to her sleep. Sweethearted girl you're waiting is almost over sleep. Little one's sleep. The tapping the wind. They almost heard some load tests into a comfortable drowsiness and then into a dream that began with her wanting to rise up out of her bed and open the window without fear or concern.

She did this as though it was entirely natural at the open window. The cool air and windy night prompted her to put on her Willie robe and slippers. She climbed up onto the windows, so leaned out and then fell. For just a moment then to her delight, she caught the wind and with her rope, billowing, just a little, she began to glide as light as this'll down into the night.

A tiny part of her knew she was dreaming. The rest of her was in the adventure that this dream offered her, escaping her room and it's layers of loneliness. Taking one last look at where she had been at the house with a gabled roof and the few lights still shining in the windows. She turned and looked resolutely forward.

She felt free. The wind carried her for some time until she found herself in one of the clouds scuttling across the face of the moon. She felt the damp Misty cloud all around her as the wind began, twirling her in a big and slowly descending spiral. Widdershins she thought somewhat giggling. She landed and felt both soft earth and rock beneath her.

She could see that she was somewhere she had never been before the moon. Now glowing silver revealed that there was no little town and no lights at all. Shining in the Erie moonlit landscape. A small mountain was before her trees were all around and the little winding paths, Shaun in the Moonlight, she walked along the path, trying to walk as quietly as she could in her slippers.

She could feel that she was not alone. A hooting from a nearby tree, caused her a stumble and a quick turn to see a great owl looking at her on a branch, above her owl, Bob to one side. And then the other regarding her test felt the owl was satisfied by what it saw when it left its perch on the tree and glided on the path ahead, test followed zigged and zagged, and she heard it to keep up and to keep the owl in that Al abruptly swerved to one side of the path and dove into the trees, tests, instinctively followed.

She was glad she did for as soon as she caught her breath after the dash, along the path, she could hear footsteps in the night and voices talking as they came closer, she could hear the separate voices of those speaking. One shrill, one gruff, and one whining. I don't want to go in there. Set the whining voice.

It's past time that you pulled your own weights and the growth voice you have to, we have to, and you're old enough, listen to your father said the show voice it's so dark in there so that the whining voice test could hear the sound of a small rock being kicked roughly off the path. You have to go into the dark to get your eyes used to it.

Set the gruff voice. You'll be able to see soon enough. We want to find out if you have any of the gifts, that will be a big help to us. If you do think about, if you can see gold veins said the shrill voice, think what lovely things we can get. If you do that, even silver would be good. Seeing any orders would be good, Southern gruff voice.

What kind of things could I get? So the whining voice, the first sounds of eagerness now, audible in his tone. Tests could see through the shrubs that it was a he, but, uh, he, what she wasn't sure the three were not much bigger than she and carrying pickaxes slung over their small, but burly shoulders. One was clearly an older male, one, some kind of a younger female, but the smallest with a whiny voice was clearly the youngest and a boy, the moon, which had been clouded a bit now bloomed clear as the odd trio pasture.

She crouched lower in fright. As she saw there, oddly shaped heads, glowing animal like eyes, and that the ones speaking have very sharp and pointed teeth, she could have sworn that they were greenish in color or were the gray. It was hard to tell. She was very sure that she didn't want them to see her.

She hoped fervently that they did not have an extra sharp sense of smell along with an ability to see in the dark. Just when she feared that they would see her in the Moonlight, in her green rope, a small sound came from behind them came a plaintiff cry.

Damn that cat. So the gruff one, I told you to put it away for the night. He didn't have time wine. The boy. The boy turned and gave the small forum trotting behind him, attempting to nuzzle his knee, a sharp kick that made the animal fly backwards in the night with a whale of distress, it tumbled into the bushes test, nearly leaped out onto the path to go to the cat's aid.

But the fury in the female's eyes glaring at the small boys stopped her cold. She crouched down lowers sending out warm thoughts to the cat. And hoping that this trio whom she was beginning to suspect were goblins would pass her by the older male cuff, the goblin boy on the side of the head and dragged him forward on the path.

The boy rubbing his ear cried. I probably can't see nothing now. Thanks to being hit so hard. You'll see. All right, set the show voice. We just have to get you into the mind. Something might eat my cat wine. The boy. Serves it right. Set the gruff boys. No, thanks to you to test as relief. The strange trior disappeared around a bend in the path she waited until she could no longer hear their arguing voices before she crept cautiously out of the bushes.

Whereas before she'd been able to hear a little piteous mewling from the animal. Now she could hear nothing. She went back along the path and its direction and stopped a little distance from where she thought it was. I'm so sorry that you were kicked and that you are now left behind. I'll help you poor little thing.

And it sounded young, but looked a little bigger than that. She kept talking softly to it, but our glided overhead landing in a nearby tree. You're not helping. She scalded the owl. The cat will be afraid of you. That I will seem to make a sound that was close to her. She heard it was a small and cautious sound.

She moved in that direction and there in the bushes, she saw two slanting green eyes looking up at her. Very LAR you beauty. She breathed. She extended her hand slowly. Like the pet store man had taught her the cat coward and lowered his body closer to the earth. Okay. She crooned, it raised its head. She knows to pick up the cat as she felt.

It's been little body it's bony ribs, something melted in her heart. The carrots stared into her eyes. And it seemed like an asked her a question. Oh yes. She said, yes, the cat stood up. So its body was small. Like a young cat, its legs were the longest that she had ever seen almost twice as long as they should be.

Oh dear. You're a goblin cat. She braid. The cat bleeps slowly out her, nevermind. I'm taking you home with me. You like that? She asked, I blinked again and made a little jumping into her arms. She wrapped up, sit up warmly in the front of her bro. Set her shoulders in a resonant fashion. I have the feeling that most there is going to have to accept you.

Checon cited. The owl solidly watching her. And bobbed from side to side, as if committing the side of her with this cat to its memory, it launched itself off the tree and began to fly along the path back in the original direction from which they had come. She jogged along behind the cat may have little mewing sounds from time to time and then became them in her arms, falling asleep.

She began to feel sleepy as well, even though she was moving as fast as she dared, she could feel intense drowsiness coming over her. Maybe we can just rest a little. She thought once I see the owl on the path for some distance, and that was her last thought before she fell asleep, she woke with morning sun coming in the window.

She felt tired and a little sore in her body. She was just starting to think what a funny dream. When she heard a soft rumble and felt a weight along her leg, she sat up startling, the dark gray and black Brindle creature on the covers standing on absurdly long legs. And he seemed it wasn't looking at her, but beyond her to the door where her mother stood a mug of weak Milky tea in hand.

The cat stared at her mother and her mother stared back the cat's whiskers, bunched up as it showed long sharp teeth, a slow smile began to grow on her. Mother's face. I told you that we'd know it when we saw it, but I never imagined that you're familiar with look like this. She said with a shaky laugh, putting the tea down on the bedside table.

She came closer and sat on the bed, not looming over the girl and crouching cat, but gentling herself down beside them, both the cat glared then turned it and began to look it's extraordinary. Front leg. Welcome Kat. She said formally to the creature of the state assume you're a cat. This is your new home to her daughter with a look of pride and love in her eyes.

She said, Tell me everything from the beginning.

My story is about the Ben and Donte nine months before I was born the village Sierra Sophia dreamt of me coming into the world. My grandfather used to tell me that all people are born with precious gifts, which are needed in order for communities to thrive. Some of these gifts are visible, practical, and useful in life.

Like a trade or ability to do something really well, just like your father or mother did before. Other people are born with different kinds of gifts, which are closer to the other invisible world and it's magic, but also very important to the physical wellbeing of the waking world. People who could see the future heal and talk with the spirits were the holders of these other gifts.

Which were also passed down to them from their fathers and mothers who came before. The woman who dreamt of me was one of those people. And she told my parents about my arrival and the gift that has not been seen for many years. By the time I was born, our view of reality had held only a trace of some of the invisible gifts that came from the other world and time when people be since spirits lift together, The gifts that were now openly cherished and recognized were those useful and visible ones like being a tailor, a cobbler or a beekeeper, the other gifts though, still recognized by some people kept quiet about not wanting everybody to know, especially not those who have turned their hearts against magic because of the fewer and fewer people were born with the unseen gifts or maybe.

If the gifts were there, they were hidden, kept secret. The night's Sophia, the, or dreamt of me was a night of a great storm rain winds, and lightning rattled. Our village into nobody slept a wink, Sophia rushed over to my parents' house so she could share the vision from her dream. She didn't know how my family would receive the news, but it was her duty to tell them she arrived at their cottage drenched in rain, shivering under her thick cloak.

Then on Donte, she whispered while holding my mother's hand and reaching out to touch her belly, my mother gasped, she was brought up remembering the old ways and knew what this word meant. An undone auntie good Walker was a person of great, magical power who could fly in their dreams, riding with animal companions, to battle malevolent forces that try to interfere with good weather and with the fertility of the land.

Nobody has heard of the Ben and Donte for many, many years, nobody living could even remember one only stories were left at this time. My father wanted to hear none of this. He was a good church going man, and didn't want this kind of attention or curse on his family. He forbade my mother to speak of this, to anybody and threw Lucia out into the rain, calling her a heretic.

And those days words were powerful and dangerous. And even if you spoke of certain things or were accused of something without cause forever, your family had to live with the burden of such a name. Sophia tried to explain to him then good walkers were a huge blessing to the community that they could negotiate the weather for the entire village to ensure good crops that will last years and years, but he refused to listen.

He acted boast, unusually that night for he was a gentle and kind man. He made my mother promise that she would keep quiet and ridiculed her for believing such nonsense. Nine months later was born. There was a great storm that night, thunder and rain rattled. My parents smoke cottage, my grandma, mother, and great aunt attended to my mother's labor into the early morning hours, a Dawn, the sky cleared my mother's labor ended and I ordered my first freaking cry.

My night travels are the first memories I have. I remember flying in my sleep and an invisible world above our own while being surrounded by beasts and creatures, I would awaken in a sweat most nights, startled and bewildered to when my mother would come to wake me from a restless turning in my cradle.

She told me I never cried though. When she would wake me, not the way other children cry with night terrors. But I would stare at her intently, unable to share what I had seen in the other world since I was not able to talk. Not yet. When I was six, I told my parents about one of my night Grames. I'd finally had the words to describe it.

My father became furious with an anger I've never seen in him before fueled with rage and fear. He forbade me to ever speak of me, dreams out loud again. A great storm had gathered above us that night, dark and terrifying, like the power should summit to bind me from talking about my night adventures. I know his true desire was to keep me from night writing, but that was a power.

Nobody could stop the closest to it was him keeping quiet, which he succeeded on when he bound my tongue for, I didn't speak at all after that night. Seeing what his rage had done to me and torn by grief. My father fell into a deep sleep from which no one could wake him a dark cloud hovered in the sky.

And a great drought came to our village shortly after I spoke of my first night, writing farmers feared the worst and the end of the hot summer lack of rain could cause a devastating loss of crop and likely famine people went to the closest church and offered what few coins they had to petition for rain.

They prayed on saying and worked in the fields harder than ever, but no rain came. My father continued to sleep, which seemed to be devouring, something inside him for, he appeared to be withering away day by day. As I watched silently beside my mother who up day and night, this was a dark time for us all and I couldn't help, but I feel that I had brought it all on that.

I was to blame. My grandmother begged the old Sierra Sophia to please come and look into the other world to find a remedy. The woman though treated badly by my father. Didn't hesitate to come out to our aid, seeing my father in his state and me bound by guilt and silence. She embraced me and whispered in my ears as I covered her cloak and my tears.

Dear one, do not weep and do not fear your gift. It is not too late. But you must ride on your beast farm to this battle. You must choose a writer tonight, commit to her, and she will show you all. You need to know. She will take you to the white stag and remember your father is not who he seems. And by all means he must be saved.

The writer Sophia spoke of where the many beasts I would see during my night journeys. Sometimes I would fly by myself, but I was still small, so I couldn't fly as fast, or as far as some of the other creatures, remembering Sophia's words upon falling asleep, I had gathered all of my intentions and strength and focus them into the thick clouds and movements I was entering in the dream world.

This was the first time I had ever felt so aware and conscious in my dream. Usually I let the adventure take me and I would drift in and out of awareness. And it would be more of an observer in my travels this time, everything was different. The clouds were darker, faster, more creatures and beasts were present.

Some with weapons I've never seen before tonight was like a real battle. And I felt nowhere near ready, but I knew I had to be a great bear, flew, close and glared at me intently who comes here. I didn't back away. I held my gaze. I have come from my writer. I said, But here, I still had a voice. The bear flew aside and then a Wolf came, who comes here.

I have come from my writer. I answered, he...