Chapter 4: Atalaya's Third Birthday

Atalaya sat atop the warm stone looking around fearfully. There was no mother reaching out to grab her up and scold her for leaving the cottage. There was no father smiling down at her and reaching out to toss her into the air and then place her upon his shoulders. There was no baby kitten rabbit to catch and bring home with her. And she did not know how to find her home. The sun had risen so that it was now directly above her. This she knew meant that it was time to eat the good foods her mother made for her. Her stomach was also telling her that it was time to eat. A single tear fell from her eye as she wrapped her arms around her legs. “I am a strong mountain giantess. And a mighty huntress like my Daddy. I will find my way home.” Looking up into the cloudless sky she saw a large bird fly over the clearing. Shrinking back, she jumped off the stone and stumbled into the glade, trying to decide which way she should go. Scanning the edges of the glade she found nothing that looked like a path or trail that she could follow. Looking at the trees she began to wonder if she could see her home if she just climbed high enough. The large ash tree growing on the eastern edge of the glade caught her attention. She walked around it, studying it carefully. There were many branches and it seemed to go up a long way towards the sky. “Tall. That tree is tall. It has lots of branches to climb. I will see home when I get to the top.” Tentatively she touched the trunk. It felt rough beneath her palm. Slowly she circled it again, looking for a way to reach the first of the branches, but they were all placed far above her head. Glaring at the tree she wished for her little stool.

A wolf howled in the distance. Atalaya stopped and listened to it. Looking around her for a place to hide, Atalaya turned back to the tree. “You bad tree. I want up. I need up. Wolves come. Why you not help me?” She huddled down at the base of the tree trying to make herself as little as she could, crying softly. The wind rustled through the tree’s leaves making a soft musical sound almost like laughter. Several leaves fell, tickling her arms as they brushed past her.

Atalaya lay curled up beneath the large stately ash tree. Eventually she wiped the tears from her face and looked again at the tree. “Help me. I want up. I want Daddy.” The leaves rustled in the soft breeze, the sound of laughter faintly present as they swayed and fluttered. Turning so that she faced the tree she looked up longingly at the branch closest to the ground. Then she noticed a small branch growing before her just a few feet off the ground, and then one another foot above it. As she watched, it seemed to her that a ladder of branches was growing just for her to reach that first branch. As a lone wolf howl echoed through the woods, she grabbed onto the branches and scrambled up into the fork where the large branch met the tree trunk. Holding tightly to the trunk she searched for her next steps. Looking down she watched in wonderment as the ladder she had climbed so quickly disappeared back into the trunk of the tree. She turned her gaze upwards. That was the direction she needed to go, not down. And now the wolves could not reach her. She was going to be safe. And she was going to find her way home. “I am a big girl. A mighty giant huntress. I can do this!” she repeated over and over to herself. The next circle of branches was also too far to reach, but her branch angled away from the trunk, ever upward and passed close to the other branches. Atalaya began to shimmy up the branch ever higher. When it crossed over another branch she nimbly transferred to that branch and made her way back to the trunk.

The music of the wind blowing through the leaves urged Atalaya ever upwards. Small branches seemed to magically appear whenever she needed help to reach the next level. Always she kept her face turned upwards, searching for an ever higher spot. It was slow tiring work though. The higher she went the more she needed to rest. Finally reaching a spot about two thirds of the way up the tree she found a place that seemed just perfect for sitting upon. Ready to stop, she gratefully sank into the secure branches and leaned her head back against the trunk of the tree. Closing her eyes she breathed a quiet “Thank you” to the tree and rested. As she slept, thin branches wound themselves over her thighs and around her waist, securing her to the tree.