“When a Dying Moon is eclipsed by the morning star, a warrior queen shall appear from the west with the New”
 
So it is written in the ancient texts and the following is an abbreviated translation of some therein and of tales still told around camp fires….
 
Three times the white mane has come with her faceless army, not to make war and conquer, but to bring peace.
 
The first, at the dawn of civilization when the last seven tribes were each at war with the other and nothing but death and ruin could be seen on the future’s horizon. Then on a nameless plain of battle where three of the tribes had met to wage war, a hush fell upon the camps early one morn as the last of the old moon rose into view, fleeing the coming sun. Nothing was new about this chase as the dying of the moon was as old as time. But twas the Morning Star that was cradled within its crescent, not without, that drew the questioning gaze of all.
 
The fighting that day was light as a feeling of dread crept through the ranks on all sides. Some said it was a dark omen as all knew no star ever eclipsed the dominant moon. Yet the Morning Star, a celestial fixture that many would pray to for luck, had done just that.  
And for three more days, the unease increased while the want to fight diminished. Then on that fourth eve, as the new moon appeared low but clear on the horizon, now in pursuit of the set sun, a flash lit the darkening cloudless sky and was followed by a thunderclap that seemed to shake the very world to its core.
 
The next morn all camps had risen early, though few had actually slept at all. A tension hung in the air like the early morning mists that blanketed the lowlands. To a pard, all felt the presence of someone besides themselves. They felt eyes upon them, appraising, judging, and all present strove to pierce the gloom and glimpse that which was out there. To the west.
 
Finally, the sun had crept to the horizon and its first rays shown upon the ridges of the high hills in the west. And revealed there was an army the likes of which none had ever seen nor dreamt. The sparkling of their armor appeared as an unbroken string of the finest gems stretched the length of the range.  
The viewers below, in awe and fear, cast weapons to the ground if they had still born them and fell to their knees to await their fate.
 
The shining army marched or rode onto the plain between the three tribes without a sound then stopped. It was the tribes intended battlefield but it would soon turn to something quite different.  
All in this fearsome legion were covered head to toe in resplendent armor save for the one who had led them in. She wore only silks with a few jeweled accents and was armed with but a short sword that hung on a gilded belt. Sitting upon a great black charger, power and command emanated from her like light from the sun but it was her mane more that all else that struck the tribes with the feeling that they were in the presence of something beyond their reckoning. A White Main, one whom is told of in fading myths and legends to be a traveler, a seeker of knowledge and too a bringer, a healer, hunter, warrior, ….mage, …. and from remnants of folklore from the first tribes, something….more. But none alive could claim to have ever met one, nor had any for generations.
 
All was quiet for some time till finally the White Mane rode forth and circled the legion once. This let the whole of the tribes that had finally found courage enough to stand and move closer despite lingering fear, to have a better look.  
Then she spoke, first in the common tongue, then to each in turn in their own dialect and they heard her as clear as if she stood in their very midst. She “requested” the commanders and leading elders from each tribe to come forth and parley.  
Two of the tribes quickly sent their representatives but there was some turmoil amongst the third. That group began approach but was halted by their military chief who was the only one upon horseback. He then called out to the White Mane in a vain attempt to prove that he was the only one in the tribes that was a true pard and worthy of command.  
“How dare you come here and dictate demands!” he shouted, Tis our war and I shall set the terms….”  
The White Mane, had great patience for things of importance but this bellicose dog had less than none. So before he could say more, she unsheathed her sword and simply motioned with it toward the offender. Instantly a single archer stepped forth from her own ranks and launched an arrow.  
Being at an impossible range for any of his peoples weapons, he didn’t notice the movement before him, nor did he recollect much of what happened when the projectile struck him square in the chest. But all else present were close enough to see him momentarily engulfed in a fiery blue aura which threw him some distance rearward. There was a collective gasp from the tribes and two of his attendants, with some hesitation, ran forth to see to the body, thinking he was surly dead. But by the time they got there, he was up on hands and knees though quite dazed.  
The White Mane then called out to the offenders group, “ He is unharmed but confine him and appoint someone who may truly speak on behalf of your people and their best interest, not his own.”
 
As the three groups of representatives stood before her, the White Main looked at each in turn taking her time. And each too in turn, felt as though they had been stripped naked, stripped even of their own body perhaps, as they felt as if their thoughts and very soul were laid bare for inspection. But all must have passed the test for as she finished the inspection, she nodded to all and said, “Well chosen, now let us talk.” and she then dismounted.
 
At the end of the discussion, all had readily agreed to cease hostilities amongst each other and join her in her mission to unite all the tribes. This actually would be an easy task as all had grown weary of war but it had also become the everyday way of things and no one knew how to change it. They all thirst for peace but it would take someone from the outside, like the White Mane to come and quench it.  
And as all turned and headed back to their camps to spread the news of what had transpired, one pard, the youngest of the lot, turned and addressed the White Mane for the first time. “milady, please forgive my impertinence, but what shall we call you? What is your name?”  
She smiled then for the first time, and thought to herself, “My name.”, for it had been so long since she had heard it spoken, it no longer held much meaning. She then looked into the eyes of the young pard before her and pondered. A simple name but with some relevance to the situation would due. “You may call me Eclipse”, she answered.
 
It was with surprising easy to unite the seven tribes as one and a form of government quite alien to their previous ways. But it was readily embraced by most as was the knowledge the Lady Eclipse had brought with her. Introduced were advanced agricultural techniques, mechanical innovations, and superior healing arts and the people started to thrive once again and and rebuild their decimated population. But one of the most important things the people acquired was the thirst for knowledge, something that had been left to the wayside during the ages of war.
 
Some years later, Eclipse determined that her time amongst these people had reached an end. The governmental system was working well and the people prospered but she was still regarded by most as “the Queen”. And thus any statements or suggestions she made tended to be taken as commands so overrode government laws and were, in their stead, adopted. She had tried to discourage this but to no avail.  
Yes, it was time to return “home” but her announcement of this caused a great outcry amongst most pard. She was petitioned to try and dissuade of this choice but she was adamant, though she did assure them that she or another of her people would return in time of need.  
She tried to leave with as little fanfare as possible and her “Army’s” numbers had slowly diminished to none with time, presumably returning to the homes from whence they had come.  
She did not set a departure date but on its eve, she visited the few in which she had grown quite close, to say her goodbye’s. The one who meant most to her though was the “impertinent” young pard who first asked her name. He was now well grown and was the current Prime Minister. He was also the only one present when she mounted the same charger she had ridden when she first came into their lives.  
They had spent this last night together but it had not been the first and each were of heavy heart. He knew that he would not see her again and the pain of that realization could be seen in in his eyes. She also knew they would not meet again but her pain was even greater as she would be able to, now and then, look in on him and remember.
 
She rode off into the still darkened west just as yet another Dying Moon rose above the horizon but this time with the Morning Star in its appropriate place beside it. Eclipse did not look back for she felt sure of these peoples future. And of the one who still stood and watched after her long after she had disappeared into darkness, she felt that part of him would somehow always be with her. And with this reassuring thought, she absently brushed her hand across the silken white fur of her belly.
 
 
The second coming of the White Mane….is another story.
 
 
6” x 8” color pencil
 
This will be available at the MFF art show.