Chronicles of MoonWhisper Glenn

The Chronicles of Moonwhisper Glenn

Chapter 1: Moonwhisper Glenn

Moonwhisper Glenn woke before anyone else. It always did. The first hints of sunlight slipped over the hills and scattered across the morning dew, turning every blade of grass into a tiny mirror. The whole field shimmered as through it were remembering a dream. Verdensong began its gentle hum. It moved quietly through the Glenn, through the swaying grass, and sleepy trees, until at last it reached the little cottage and nestled among them.

Moonmint glowed softly along the windowsill, tiny silver-green tendrils had worked their way into the cracks of the cottage over the years, filling the gaps where cold wind might otherwise creep through. In the winter they helped keep the Moonwhispers warm. But the plants seemed particularly fond of one Moonwhisper. Seraphyra. Their little light, their child of Joy. The Glenn had known her from her very first breath, and somehow, it seemed brighter whenever she was awake.

Perhaps it was because Seraphyra and her family never treated the Glenn as something they owned. The plants were tended with care. Animals were fed before hungry bellies at the breakfast table were filled. Injured creatures found their way to the cottage and were rarely turned away.

Everything living here was family.

Somewhere along the way, the Glenn had decided that the Moonwhispers were family too.

But there was something deeper about the Glenn, something older than the cottage, older than the paths reading through the fields, pershaps even older than the Moonwhispers themselves.

The Glenn belonged to the maker.

It answered to him and him alone.

Every root beneath the soil, every whisperfern curling toward the morning light, every strand of moonmint glowing beneath the stars lived, breathed, and prospered because the Maker willed it.

The Glenn did not choose whom to bless. The Maker did.

And upon the Moonwhispers rested something the Glenn recognized.

An Anointing.

No one in the family could command the Glenn, they could not order the flowers to bloom or demand the Verdensong rise. Whatever happened here happened according to the will of the Maker.

Yet his blessing upon the Moonwhispers was unmistakable.

It was almost as though the Maker himself had touched the family and whispered to His creation.:

These are mine.

And the Glenn had listened.

It sheltered the Moonwhispers when the winds became bitter. It nourished them when the earth beyond the valley struggled. It welcomed their hands among its plants and its creatures.

But with Seraphyra, the bond seemed different.

The Glenn did not worship her.

It recognized something up on her

Something given by the maker. Something even Seraphyra far too young to understand. So when she laughed, the moonmint glowed. When she wandered barefoot through the grass, the Glenn stirred around her.

And when danger drew near, the Glenn listened for the Maker, Then it protected his little light.

Before Breakfast, Seraphyra darted outside barefoot.

For most people, running through the Glenn without shoes would have been a foolish decision. There were stones hidden beneath the grass, fallen sticks beneath the trees, and thorns, eager to catch an unsuspecting heel.

But Seraphyra never seemed to find them.

Or perhaps they never found her..

The grass brushed against her feet and curled softly around her ankles as though greeting an old friend.

Seraphyra giggled.

“ Good morning to you too.”

She stretched out both hands as she ran, letting her fingertips skim across the tops of the tall grass. Beads of dew collected against her fingers, and every so often one escaped, slipping unexpectedly down her wrists.

“COLD!”

Her laughter rang across the Glenn.

Moonmint stirred along the paths, whisperfern rustled beneath the trees, their delicate leaves chiming, softly as they joined Verdensong.

Flowers opened as she passed.

One after another, sleepy petals unfolded toward the morning sun as through Seraphyra’s laughter had reminded them that it was time to wake.

And the Glenn seemed to lift its head a little higher.

Its little light had arrived.

Seraphyra ran toward the animal pens. Morning chores came first. Always.

The chickens saw her coming and immediately abandoned whatever terribly important chicken business they had been attending to. They hurried toward her.

“All right, all right!”

Seraphyra scooped grain from the feed bucket and scattered it across the ground.

“You act as if no one has fed you in a hundred years.”

The chickens disagreed loudly.

Seraphyra crouched among them, laughing when the little chicks gathered around her feet. She carefully picked up one of the babies, cradling its tiny body between her hands.

“Good Morning little one,”

A chorus of impatient quacking erupted behind her.

Seraphyra sighed.

“ I haven’t forgotten about you.”

The ducks were already waddling toward her.

Then the flock suddenly parted. A tiny drake came charging through them.

“Brimble!”

Brimble raced toward her with frantic determination, his little feet moving so quickly that Seraphyra burst out laughing. Of course he came running. As far as Brimble was concerned, Seraphyra was the most important creature in the entire Glenn. And perhaps he had good reason to believe so.

Seraphyra found him when he was very small, trapped near the creek, and separated from the other ducks, with predators closing in around him.

She hadn’t stopped to think, she had simply run, straight to the creek. Bare feet, dress, and all.

She had carried the frightened drake home and helped nurse him back to health. For quite some time afterward, Brimble had decided the safest place in all creation was Seraphyra’s pocket.

If she walked somewhere, Brimble went too.

If she sat down, out came his little head. Separating them had not been easy.

It was Elowen who finally sat beside her daughter and gently explained Brimble needed things Seraphyra could not provide for him. He needed other ducks.

That didn’t mean he loved her any less.

Eventually, another mother duck accepted the little orphan into her brood.

Seraphyra had cried.

Brimble protested, But Elowen had been right.

Soon he was swimming, feeding, and living among the other ducks as he was meant to.

That didn’t stop him from abandoning absolutely everything the moment Seraphyra appeared.

“Come on Then. “

Seraphyra started toward the next enclosure. Brimble hurried after her.

He would follow her for the rest of her chores. He always did.

Next came the cows.

Seraphyra had barely begun pouring their feed when a familiar nose bumped firmly against her shoulder.

She stumbled sideways.

“Hey!”

Another nudge. Seraphyra looked over her shoulder. Maggie stared back at her.. Seraphyra planted one hand on her hip.

“Now Maggie.”

Maggie mood

“You know I can’t give you more than that.”

Another Moo.

“We have to make sure everybody has enough to eat.”

Maggie regarded this explanation with deep dissatisfaction.

Seraphyra tried very hard to remain serious.

She failed.

“ All right, don’t look at me like that.”

Once Maggie finished eating, the old game began.

Seraphyra took off running alongside the fence.

“Come on!”

Maggie charged after her from the other side.

Seraphyra’s high-pitched giggles mixed with Maggie’s playful moo’s as they raced one another down the length of the fence.

Brimble hurried behind them, flapping indignantly as though deeply offended that nobody had informed him there would be a race.

People working nearby stopped to watch.

It was difficult not to.

The families living around the Moonwhispers had grown accustomed to watching Seraphyra make her morning rounds.

They cared for the Moonwhispers.

The Moonwhispers did not have much. Everyone in the Glenn knew that. But somehow, when another family needed bread, medicine, an extra pair of hands, or simply someone willing to sit beside them in a difficult hour, the Moonwhispers always seemed to find something they could give.

That was what neighbors did.

And their neighbors returned that kindness in their own ways.

As Seraphyra wandered from farm to farm feeding animals, there was always another pair of eyes looking out for her.

“ Morning!”

She waved enthusiastically at everyone she passed.

And because Seraphyra apparently believed feeding half the Glenn wasn’t enough work for the morning, she collected her mothers baking orders along the way.

“Two loaves!”

She repeated in under her breath.

“ Two loaves. One Honey Cake.”

She counted on her fingers.

“and biscuits.”

Brimble quacked.

Seraphyra looked down.

“No, your not helping.”

Another quack.

“ You can’t even carry the list.”

Brimble followed her anyway.

From the cottage, Elowen watched her daughter making her way through the Glenn.

Sometimes she wondered how such a little person could occupy so much of the world around her.

People loved Seraphyra.

Animals trusted her..

Even the Glenn seemed to recognize when she entered it.

But Elowen never allowed herself to believe those things believed to Seraphyra alone.

The blessing came from somewhere far greater.

So while her daughter laughed in the distance, Elowen bowed her head.   

He prayer was simple. “ Guide her feet, Master.”

She watched Seraphyra racing Brimble toward another enclosure.

“Do what you will with her.”

For a moment, Elowen remained still. Then she smiled.

Breakfast.

She reached for the meal bell.

CLANG. CLANG. CLANG.

The sound rolled across Moonwhisper Glenn.

Seraphyra’s head snapped toward the cottage.

“Breakfast!”

She took off running.

Brimble reacted a heartbeat later.

His wings fluttered furiously as he raced after her.

“Come on, Brimble!”

The little drake needed no encouragement.

But the bell had not been rung only for Seraphyra.

Farther along the path, another door opened. Elora emerged slowly, leaning upon her walking staff.

At ninety years old, she no longer hurried for anyone. Not even breakfast.

Beside her walked her daughter, Seraphine, carrying a staff of her own, she made 55 look young. Mother and daughter began the familiar walk toward Elowens cottage, where the smell of fresh bread and a warm breakfast drifted into morning air.

Seraphyra spotted them.

Her entire face brightened. “Grandmother! Great -Grandmother!” And suddenly she wasn’t running toward breakfast anymore.

She was running toward them. Brimble followed of course he did.                                                                                                                               

Behind them, Moonwhisper Glenn continued its morning song. And inside the cottage, Elowen began setting another place at the table. Then another, there was always room.

Seraphyra reached the cottage first.

Barefoot, breathless, and with Brimble hurrying behind her, she bounded toward the door before stopping herself at the last moment.

Her eyes dropped to her feet.

Med.

Quite a lot of it, actually.

She glanced toward the cottage.

Then back at her feet.

“No.”

Brimble quacked beside her.

“That is exactly what mama would say.”

Another quack.

“I know.”

A wash basin sat near the cottage steps for precisely this reason. Seraphyra perched on the edge of the step and dipped her feet into the cool water, rubbing away the dirt and little pieces of grass that clung between her toes.

Brimble immediately tried to investigate the basin.

“No sir.”

She nudged him away with one wet foot.

“This is not a pond.”

“Brimble.”

He stared at her.

She stared back.

For a moment, neither moved.

Then the little drake plunged his beak into the water.

Seraphyra sighed.

“You’re impossible.”

She dried her feet, slipped inside, and went straight to wash her hands.

The cottage was warm with the smells of breakfast.

Fresh bread.

Honey.

Something sweet baking near the hearth.

And coffee.

Seraphyra stopped.

She breathed in deeply..

Coffee.

Now there was a smell worth waking up for.

“Can I pour it?”

Elowen didn’t even turn around.

“You may pour it carefully.”

“I always pour it carefully.”

Elowen looked over he shoulder.

Mother and daughter regarded one another.

“Usually, Seraphyra amended.

“That I will accept.”

Seraphyra grinned.

Before touching the coffeepot, however, she remembered the two women still making their way toward the cottage.

“The Towels!”

She hurried to the hearth.

Elowen kept several clean towels nearby, and Seraphyra took two and warmed them carefully, holding them near enough to the hearth to chase away the morning chill but not enough to scorch them.

By the time Elora and Seraphine reached the cottage, their towels were waiting.

Seraphyra hurried outside.

“I got them warm!”

Elora accepted first, laying over her hands.

At ninety, the cold had a way of settling into her fingers that it hadn’t when she was younger.

“ oh,” she murmured. “ that’s lovely.”

Seraphyra beamed.

Seraphine accepted the other.

“Thank you little light.”

The three entered together.

Then Elora stopped.

Her nose lifted ever so slightly.

She breathed in.

A smile slowly appeared.

“Coffee.”

Elowen laughed from across the room.

“I wondered how long it would take you.

“At my age there are certain things a woman ought not be required to hurry for.”

Elora took another appreciative breath.

“Coffee is the exception.”

Seraphyra giggled.

“I’ll get it!”

Four cups waited on the table.

Seraphyra poured the coffee with both hands around the pot, her face scrunched in concentration.

One for Elora.

One for Seraphine.

One for Mama.

And one for herself.

Elowen eyed the last cup.

Seraphyra immediately covered it with both hands.

“You said everyone.”

“I did.”

Seraphine hid a smile behind her cup.

Elora did not bother hiding hers.

“How did I lose control of my own household?”

“You invited your mother and grandmother to breakfast,” Seraphine said.

“Ah. There was my mistake.”

That sent all four of them laughing.

And there, around that little table, coffee became more than a morning drink.

It was warmth held between two hands. It was the smell that lingered while bread passed from one person to another. It was something to sip between storied and something to refill when a story became too long to leave unfinished.

Coffee invited people to stay.

To talk.

To listen.

To remember.

For Elora, it was one of life’s simple pleasures.

For Seraphine, it was a reason to linger at the table.

For Elowen, it was something even more precious.

Because each morning she looked across that table and saw 3 generations staring back at her.

Her Grandmother.

Her Mother.

Her daughter.

Elowen knew what a blessing that was.

She had been the middle child of six children. Once, when they were young, closeness seemed effortless. They had shared a home, meals, chores, arguments, laughter, and all the ordinary things children assumed would last forever.

But childhood did not last forever.

They grew.

Life pulled.

And one by one her brothers and sisters had gone their separate ways.

Somewhere between becoming adults and building lives of their own, the relationships they once shared had faded.

Elowen had never stopped loving them.

She simply no longer really knew them.

And perhaps that was why mornings like this meant so much to her.

She refused to let distance convince her that family no longer mattered. Instead, she treasured what she still had.

Elowen had the rare blessing of sitting beside the same two women who had helped raise her and watching them now help shape Seraphyra.

Sometimes she would catch Seraphine correcting Seraphyra in exactly the same tone she had once used with her.

Or Elora would begin telling one of her old stories, and Elowen would realize she knew every word of it.

She never interrupted.

Not anymore.

Now she watched Seraphyra lean forward as though hearing it for the first time.

That was the beauty of having them here.

Seraphyra wasn’t merely hearing stories about the women who had raised her mother.

She was being raised by them too.

And somewhere along the way, something even sweeter happened.

The four women had become friends.

Family was the bond that had brought them together.

Friendship was the reason they kept choosing one another.

Elora lifted her coffee and took a slow sip.

Her eyes closed.

“Perfect.”

Seraphyra immediately sat taller.

“I poured it.”

Elowen placed the bread on the table.

“ I made it.”

Seraphine reached for the honey.

“And I arrived in time to drink it. Therefore, I believe I contributed equally.”

Elowen laughed.

Seraphyra nearly spilled her coffee.

And Elora, still holding her warm cup between both hands, smiled at all three of them.

Outside, Verdensong continued its gentle hymn through MoonWhisper Glenn.

Inside, four women sat around an ordinary wooden table with warm bread, honey, and steaming cups of coffee.

They did not have much. But that morning, none of them felt poor. They had one another. And for now, that was abundance.