“I do not ask the wounded person how he feels, I myself become the wounded person.”
― Walt Whitman
Mana had to formulate a plan to rescue the boys. She considered her impressions of each child. Nathan demonstrated ingenuity in building the raft. He was impatient indeed, yet he was able to reason when he had to. Kyle’s ability to distract Cato from his vision of destruction impressed Mana as well. This child was different than the other two Mana thought. While Whitney was cautious and Nathan impassioned, Kyle was cunning. These children appeared to be alike, yet they were unique. The other species that Mana had observed over time shared common traits. Rarely did a Kukula break from the flock or a Patas roam from his clan. The grazing animals united in their vigilance of predators. These little ones though did not look like each other, nor did they behave like each other. Their ability to reason exceeded the animals that Mana was familiar with. “Hmm, Mana thought, this skill of reasoning may save the children.” Mana knew, however, that any possibility for the children’s survival depended on the pantars. If the wildcats remained dutiful to the Dark Master, there was no hope for the children’s escape. She returned to corridor where Whitney waited for her.
When they were a safe distance down the corridor in front of the concealed entrance to Cato’s lair, Mana inquired to Whitney, “What is a flag?”
“A flag,” Whitney considered, “Why do you need to know what a flag is?”
“It may be necessary to help your cousins escape?”
“Well, a flag is a piece of material that hangs from a pole.”
“What is material?”
“In this case, material would be cloth like the stuff that my clothing is made from or the sweater that Shadow is wearing,” Whitney explained, “but the cloth used for a flag is square and has a design on it.”
“A design?”
“Yes, we call it a symbol. The symbol is used to show what is important to us. Our flag has stripes and stars that um, that represent freedom.”
“Your kind values freedom?”
“Oh yes, it is suppose to be very important to our country, our people,” Whitney paused and thought about all the rules she had to adhere to in school and at home, “although it seems to me that adults don’t really want others to have freedom.”
Mana thought about what Whitney had conveyed. She had other questions, but she understood that those inquiries would take time, time that they did not have. She reflected over the details that she had seen in Cato’s grotto. She considered what it was that he valued. Eventually she responded, “We will have to go back to the cave where you felt the spirits’ presence.” Mana knew that Whitney would be troubled about this announcement, “We have to make a flag and I saw something in the box that will be ideal for my plan.”
Whitney knew that she had no other alternative, “Okay, I’ll lead the way with my flashlight.” When Mana and Whitney arrived at the opening of Spirit’s Cave where they had moved the rocks, Whitney headed towards the crate, but Mana refrained her from doing so by grabbing her shoulder. Whitney pointed the beam of light to where she remembered the crate to be. She was terrified when she spotted a very large snake with little legs coiled atop of the crate. The snake opened one of its eyes as the light shone on it. Feeling threatened it raised its head high in the air. Whitney was paralyzed with fear. “Mana, what are we going to do?”
“Sshh child,” Mana responded. The large ancient python was not the only presence that Mana sensed in the cave. As the snake uncoiled an unmistakable sound echoed in the cavern, “Harr, harr, harr” was answered by another similar cry. In an instant the fossas were on the python. Whitney withdrew her flashlight from the scene as she buried her head in Mana’s torso. The sound in the cavern was amplified. The sharp claws of the fossas could be heard on the wooden crate. For a minute or so the violent skirmish ensued. Finally, the cave was silent. Whitney pointed her flashlight in the direction of the crate. The top of the crate was vacant. She cautiously searched near the crate with the beam of light. Just beyond the light Whitney and Mana viewed the limp body of the snake dragged into the distant depth of the shadows of the cave, an earth-tone argyle stuffed sock dragged into obscurity.
Mana wasted no time as she walked towards the crate, “Come child, there is no time to waste.” Mana’s urgency ushered Whitney forward. She nervously searched around her for other creatures that lurked in the dark. Mana lifted the crate and picked up the black robe designed with the dark orb. “Yes, this will do,” she indicated as much to herself as to Whitney. She picked up one of the poles next to the crate. “Come, we must hurry.” Whitney immediately followed her, careful not to step on Mana’s heels yet glad to have left the cave behind.
They reached the circular soapstone in front of Cato’s lair. Mana handed the items to Whitney as she moved the stone away from the hidden entrance to Cato’s room. She wasted no time indicating to Whitney to construct a flag from the materials that she brought from the crate. Whitney worked to secure the robe to the pole by tightly tying knots from the corners of the robe onto the pole. While Whitney was busy, Mana conveyed her plan to the child. Mana would hurry across the hub of the cavern where she would free the dragon steeds. She explained to Whitney that she must try to rouse the female pantars in the adjoining cavern to Cato’s lair. Mana could not do both and the timing of their release was essential to the plan.
“There will be danger, just as there has been since you entered our world. You must try to get the pantars to move. They have been abused for such a long time that inspiring them to join the male pantars will be difficult. I am sure that they will not turn on you, but you must be careful.” Whitney attempted to protest, “There is no other way,” Mana conveyed sharply to Whitney knowing the child’s concern. Mana walked to the stone in front of the cavern where the pantars were held captive. She moved the stone with effort to reveal the adjoining cavern. With urgency she moved to the entrance of Cato’s lair and removed that circular stone from the entranceway. She left Whitney behind with one final instruction, “Go!”
Whitney apprehensively approached the entrance to the pantars’ confinement. She turned her head as she was greeted by the deplorable stench of the cavern. She entered the cavern struck with compassion by the sight of the spiritless pantars’ condition. They laid untethered in their separate stalls. They paid passing interest at the sight of the creature who appeared before them. “You must get up,” Whitney encouraged. They did not respond. She attempted to provoke them, “The male pantars need you!” Again, the pantars appeared like medicated patients in an asylum. Whitney was discouraged and desperate. She surveyed the room spotting the hide of a female pantar draped over the stone wall of a vacated stall. Until then Whitney could never have comprehended such suffering. She struggled to understand such hatred, but her youth, up until now, prevented her from being impinged in such a way. It was at that moment that she understood the Dark Master’s evil nature and she was terrified like no child should be. Her empathy for the pantars overcame her fear. She reasoned that she had to rouse these suffering creatures, she disregarded her own safety as she picked up the hide and held it close to her. “You poor, poor creature, no one deserves to be treated like this.” The other pantars stirred, curious by this strange creature’s action. And then Whitney cried, realizing how hateful the Dark Master’s torment had been. She spoke boldly. “We can leave here you know. We can take the remains of your love one and bury her in a place where there is light, a place where flowers grow. That is what we do when someone we love passes.” One-by-one the felines were moved by Whitney’s concern for their deceased sister. They had never been exposed to such kindness from another animal. They rose and gathered around her. Whitney did not feel threatened. “She can not be properly buried, until we stop the Dark Master before he does this to another.” The pantars looked at each other for support. “Their eyes are changed, ” she thought. Whitney was encouraged, but she misunderstood what had rallied the pantars. “They’re inspired by my concern. Come, follow me to the big cavern!” The wild pantars followed their strange new leader, not inspired by kindness, rather than vengeance.