Welcome, Woonyak!
“AYYYIEEEE!” Breister was surprised to hear the long scream coming from his mouth. He was supposed to be drowned, dead, submerged in a watery grave. Yet he was aware that he was screaming. “AYYYIEEEE! YAAAAHHHHH!” He was tumbling, falling, spinning head over heels, falling, falling, screaming...
How long he fell he did not know. It seemed like a very long time, yet could not have been very long. The river poured through a massive hole in the rock—the whirlpool leading into a tunnel through the rock that sent the surging river deep underground. The rock tunnel opened out into a huge underground cavern, spilling and spraying the watery flow out of an opening at the top. The water fell from the high ceiling of the cavern like a waterfall. The cascade of water fell from such a height that, by the time it landed in the lake, it was dispersed into mist and a powerful rain-like downpour.
KERSPLOOSH! With a tremendous splash, the burly Wood Cow plunged into the cold water of the lake. In the pitch-blackness, Breister’s eyes were so useless that it was as if he had lost his sight. From the sound, he sensed he was in a huge cavern. How far underground he was he could not guess.
The lake was deep enough that Breister could not touch the bottom. Exhausted, deeply chilled by his long exposure to the frigid waters, and struggling against despair, Breister paddled out of the direct fall of the water. Gasping for breath, he was grateful that there seemed to be no strong current in the lake to fight. He floated quietly, sculling only enough to stay afloat, catching his breath for the first time since the Cougar had attacked him. Breister did not know where he was, but he was deeply grateful to simply be able to rest.
“Ahhh, to rest...beautiful rest...sweet, blissful rest,” he thought. “So tired, so very, very tired...can’t move my arms and legs...so tired...too tired...need to rest...” The fight against the Cougar, the brutal pounding by the water and rocks in the river, the lung-ripping, gasping struggle to breathe, the numbing cold of the water—all this punishment had left him limp with fatigue. His strength ebbing away, Breister lapsed into unconsciousness. As the muscles of his neck relaxed, his face pitched forward into the water. The biting cold of the water had no effect in reviving him, but rather dragged him deeper into icy rest.
“Hunjah! Woonyak!” Breister heard the strange words as if they came to him from a far away place. They seemed friendly and inviting. He turned to look in the direction of the voice and found that his eyes were closed. Forcing them to open against a powerful desire to sleep, Breister saw a frightful-looking Sheep bending over him. The Sheep wore the hair around her head close-cropped, and had brightly-colored designs swirling around her eyes and ears. She was robed in an intricately embroidered caftan, which emphasized her startling appearance. Fantastic animals leaped and pranced in the designs and a large, many-colored bird with two sets of wings clutched a sun in its talons. Sharp bone needles held her clothing together, and long curling bone hooks, painted with stripes, were laced through her cheeks.
Was this another wild hallucination? It did not seem terrifying. Breister’s confused thoughts struggled to make sense of it, but could not, and he lapsed back into sleep.
Awaking some time later, Breister found himself lying on a pallet of soft feathers. Several brilliant shafts of sunlight cut long, sloping beams through the semi-darkness. He realized that he was no longer wet. Somehow, a soft, bright green sheet of cloth that wrapped across his body and tied at the shoulder had replaced his wet clothes, toga-style.
“Hunjah!” The apparent greeting announced the reappearance of the strange Sheep, accompanied by a servant, who brought a steaming drink to Breister. He gulped the hot beverage greedily. A sharp, but not unpleasant, spicy sweetness had a stimulating effect, making him feel refreshed and warmed after his long immersion in the frigid water.
“Hunjah!” the strange Sheep repeated, kneeling down by Breister. “We welcome you, Woonyak,” she continued. “It has been a long time since we have had such a great Woonyak among us. Hunjah!”
“Excuse me, friend,” Breister replied, “but I don’t understand you. Why do you call me Woonyak?” Breister was very grateful for his apparent rescue and the care that the friendly Sheep was showing him, but he was also curious.
The Sheep looked kindly at Breister. “You are a ‘fallen one’—a Woonyak in our tongue—one who has fallen through the OmpotoWoo. You would say it was the ‘Great Tear’ or ‘Place Where the World is Torn.’ Few of your kind have ever fallen. It is an honor and privilege that you came to us. Hunjah!”
“There are more of you?” Breister burst out excitedly. He realized how much he wished to know. There were others? Who were they? Where was he?
“I am WooZan, chief of the WooSheep. I pulled you from the OmpotoWoo and brought you here. I thought you were dead when I found you. I brought you to the Golden Grotto to heal and recover. Hunjah!” Sweeping her extended arm with royal dignity, she drew Breister’s gaze around the large cavern where he found himself. Light streamed through skylights—variously sized jagged openings in the rock—scattered across the high vault of the grotto. A wondrous, ethereal lutescence sparkled here and there with a deep golden glitter as the light played on the mineral formations. The effect was otherworldly, unlike anything Breister had ever seen. The sparkling glitter...Was it real gold? He wondered without speaking.
“No, it is not what you call ‘real gold’...” WooZan commented, smiling at Breister. “You are surprised that I read your thoughts?” she continued. “Woonyaks are all the same. They think that what they call ‘real gold’ is so dear and precious that they think only of that,” WooZan said shaking her head. “This Golden Grotto sparkles with the light from above that gives its loveliness to the simple, plain rocks of the Grotto. Without the light, the rocks are very simple and humble. Yet see what glory they gain from the light!”
Breister looked about in astonishment. Far above their heads, the cavern had several openings to the outside. Shafts of sunlight beamed into the cavern through the ragged holes in the rock. He had never seen, or imagined, such a thing. The cavern, far underground, was open to the world outside! Breister felt a surge of delirious happiness course through him. He could escape the underground! He could search for Helga!
“You are thinking about the other world,” WooZan observed. “Your eyes are fixed on the LuteWoo, and you are thinking about escape.” Breister looked at WooZan with surprise. She had once again seemed to read his thoughts.
“No, I do not read thoughts,” WooZan said. “You think because I know what you are thinking, that I can see inside your mind. No. No. I only know the feelings that you feel so well that I need not be told what they are. Since the first day of the WooSheep, our folk have known these feelings. No Woonyak that has joined the WooSheep over the ages has ever had a different thought than you. I know exactly what to expect from you. Hunjah!”
Breister looked at the WooSheep chieftain with curiosity. “There are many Woonyaks?” he asked.
“Yes, but it is still a great occasion for us when a Woonyak comes,” WooZan replied. “Over a thousand, thousand lifetimes, there is time for many Woonyaks and each one brings something new to the WooSheep. Their coming is a great event among our folk. The first of our people were Woonyaks. Our stories tell about them. And the fall of each Woonyak is a great event—a renewal of our story and our people. There will be a story about you, also. As you become an elder among the WooSheep your story will be honored, it will be drawn on the walls of the Deep Caves, where all our great stories are recorded. You will be buried there also...your story will be with you forever.”
“Whoa there, WooZan...Now, wait just a minute!” Breister protested. “You may know the Woonyaks you have seen in the past, but I’m a different case. I’m not staying here. I’m leaving to find my daughter. You’ve been very kind to me and I’m very grateful to you for saving my life, but—”
“—but you have seen the LuteWoo, and you think you can escape from this world?” As before, it was less a question, than a statement of fact.
“That’s exactly right,” Breister replied. “I’m getting out of here, just as soon as I learn the way.”
“No one leaves the WooSheep, friend,” WooZan said quietly.
“What do you mean?” Breister said, feeling a new sense of anxiety.
“There is no way out,” the WooSheep explained. “There is no way to leave here. There are only the OmpotoWoo, which gives us our way of living, and the LuteWoo which reminds us of the promise of the afterlife.”
“But the LuteWoo is open to the outside!” Breister exclaimed. “Surely there is a way—”
“To climb out of this world?” WooZan completed the sentence. “See how well I know your feelings? All Woonyaks think exactly alike. Hunjah! There is no way out. But there is the promise of the life to come.”
Breister’s mind was reeling. Could it be true? Was he condemned to live here to the end of his days?
Breister sank into thoughtful silence. After a short time WooZan observed, “You are thinking that I must be wrong—that there must be a way to leave this world. Am I right?”
“Yes! Yes! That’s exactly right!” Breister exploded. “You think you are so smart. You think you can sit there and know what I am thinking. Well, you’re wrong! I’m getting out of here, and you can think whatever you want about that!”
“It’s not what I want to think, friend; it is the reality of things. Our stories tell that ages ago, the folk we now know as the WooSheep lived in the high, high mountains. We were simple Planting Sheep and happy with our life. But a time of great sickness came over that land and our folk became very sick. Many died. At last, the sickness was so great that our chiefs said it was best to leave our homes. Many of us loaded our belongings onto boats and tried to float down the river. Many died in the rapids. Many more fell through the OmpotoWoo and lived. Those became the WooSheep.”
Breister was silent for a long time. WooZan honored this silence. After some time, Breister said, “Why can’t we ascend through the LuteWoo? Has anyone tried?”
“The LuteWoo is the home of the Fire Beetles,” WooZan responded. “The Fire Beetles excrete an acid that covers their bodies. Touch it and your skin burns like fire for days. Over the thousands of years the Fire Beetles have lived there, the small bit of the acid clinging to their feet has gradually dissolved the rock, making the natural skylights above our heads. That, and the fact there is no way to reach the openings, makes it impossible to leave, even should one want to go. Hunjah!”
“Should one want to?” Breister repeated. “Why would one not want to leave?” Breister asked incredulously.
“Woonyaks are all the same,” WooZan observed again. “A Woonyak falls through the OmpotoWoo and, if they survive, they have been so near death that they have seen the end of their lives before them. Then, those that survive eventually find their way into the Golden Grotto, where they can, at last, get out of the water. As you have seen, the Golden Grotto is incredibly beautiful, even otherworldly. The combination of magnificent beauty and the joy of simple survival gives Woonyaks the sense of having been saved by a miracle. Is that not what you, yourself, believe?”
Breister had to admit that he did have some of that feeling. The despair of being utterly lost, the struggle against the river, the fearsome whirlpool and the certainty of death, the long fall into the darkness not knowing what might be at the bottom, the sense of immediate, inevitable doom...all this created an almost insane sense of release when one did not die.
“Surely your survival was a miracle, yes? Isn’t that what you believe?” WooZan spoke softly, yet with an unsettling conviction. Breister did not know exactly what to think about the WooSheep chieftain.
“You have been delivered by the Great Power, saved from extinction,” WooZan continued. “When Woonyaks see the LuteWoo they think of escape. Then they learn that there is no escape and they rage against that. Then they gradually realize that there truly is no escape and they come to love the life of the WooSheep. They come to the Golden Grotto and worship the Great Power that saved them. They find peace in the promise of the afterlife here. The WooSheep have all that is needed. All Woonyaks come to see this. They learn that they have no further need for the other world. WooSheep do not even believe they can reach the other world before death. All Woonyaks come to see this. Hunjah!”
Breister said nothing. He saw there was no reason to argue with WooZan further.
“Come. Come with me and we will eat with the WooSheep brethren. It is the time of Common Bowl.”
WooZan showed Breister a small boat, just large enough for the two of them and her attendant. They boarded the boat and the servant began to paddle through the darkness. Leaving the Golden Grotto, WooZan explained: “The Golden Grotto is a place for retreat and reflection only. I, WooZan, come here daily to reflect on my duties as chieftain. Woonyaks are also brought there immediately after being rescued. It assures them that they are truly safe and delivered after their terror. The entire community of WooSheep comes here on the Days of Great Light—the days when the light is brightest from the LuteWoo. Hunjah!”
“But how do you live down here?” Breister wanted to know. He could not believe that beasts could actually survive in such a place. As they left the Golden Grotto, the darkness gradually again became so intense that Breister could not see WooZan, although she sat just a few feet away. “Surely you can’t just live...”
“Just live here like ‘normal’ beasts?” WooZan said, shaking her head. “Woonyaks are all the same. You do not believe, yet. But you will believe when you see! Hunjah!”
Although the complete darkness left Breister unable to see anything, WooZan’s servant seemed to paddle with a purpose toward a definite destination. Then, they apparently rounded a corner and Breister saw a dazzling sight. Thousands of lanterns glittered within a huge, water-filled grotto. “Welcome, Woonyak, to WooPeace,” WooZan said. “Hunjah!”
Breister was astounded. Hundreds of houses were carved into the rock. Wherever he looked, lanterns twinkled in rock-hewn windows. The rock-houses were built at all heights. Some were just above water level. Others were far up the sides of the grotto, reached by narrow, winding stairways carved in the rock. “The OmpotoWoo gives us our life,” WooZan observed. “Wood and other items from smashed boats, other kinds of driftwood, fresh fish, and new Woonyaks who join and refresh our folk!”
Breister had lost all sense of time. How long had he been below the surface of the earth? What day was it? What time was it? Such questions seemed not to matter to WooZan.
Tying up the boat at a landing, WooZan stepped out of the boat and said, “Come, join in the Common Bowl; you are welcome among us. Hunjah!”
Breister followed WooZan up several flights of stairs onto a large landing where many creatures were gathered to eat. The WooSheep, Breister saw, were not all Sheep. There were many other kinds of beasts as well—Foxes, Cougars, Coyotes, Goats, Badgers, and Rabbits.
WooZan watched Breister’s reaction to what he was seeing. “Yes, the WooSheep are a diverse folk,” she commented. “Woonyaks come from many clans. But any who join the life of the WooSheep become one of us. The WooPeace is for all. Our life is for all. Our hospitality is for all.”
And the hospitality was, indeed, marvelous, Breister discovered. He feasted with the WooSheep until his gut hurt. The WooSheep used fire in their candles, oil lanterns, and a few other ways, but not in their cooking. All food was eaten raw, usually marinated in a vast array of tasty sauces. Fish was the basic staple of the WooSheep diet, but the array of fish dishes was vast. On his first plateful, Breister had Shadowgrass and Smeed Smod Salad, Spicy Salamander Soup, Thick Cave Bass Frumplets, Deep Grotto Bat Cream Sauce, and Rawski Booglehead Filets with Moondles. Breister would not have believed such scrumptious foods could exist underground. His stomach was definitely impressed with the WooPeace!
Breister learned that the WooSheep used almost every element of the underground world for something. In a world that Breister had thought was limited, the WooSheep had found great abundance. As Breister ate happily and laughed with his new friends, he felt a deep sense of love and acceptance. The WooSheep warmly opened their life to him. He felt accepted and happy. Yet, one question kept puzzling him.
“The river pours so much water into the underground,” Breister asked. “Where does it all go? The water level does not rise, although there is constantly new water pouring in through the OmpotoWoo...The water is getting out somewhere. Your folk are brilliant, WooZan; surely they have explored this question. Surely, the water must somehow flow out. Isn’t there a way to follow the water out of here?”
“All Woonyaks think this way at first,” WooZan replied. “They constantly fight against the reality of our life. Until they discover that the only peace is to become part of the WooPeace. There is no peace apart from the WooPeace. Hunjah!”
“Has any beast ever tried?” Breister asked again.
WooZan looked at Breister solemnly. “There is no peace apart from the WooPeace. It is the only way. All Woonyaks come to see this. So, too, will you,” WooZan repeated.
“But has anyone tried?” Breister asked with firm resolve. “Has anyone tried to find a different way than just sitting here accepting the story that there is no way out?”
“It is not a story, friend,” WooZan replied sharply. “There is only one way and that is the way of the WooPeace. To go apart from it is to die. Hunjah!”
“But, WooZan, I keep asking you if any beasts have tried?” Breister said.
“There is no peace apart from the WooPeace. To go apart from it is to die,” WooZan repeated. “This is the truth you must find. You will find it for yourself. The water flows out in a myriad of small springs and seepages, but there is no river flowing out. The only way to survive is the WooPeace. But you must find this truth for yourself. Spend some days and nights in the Golden Grotto. Meditate on its beauty and the bounty and fellowship you have found here. Rejoice in the miracle that saved your life. Reflect on the reality of the situation. You will find your way into the WooPeace. We will warmly welcome you. You will become family to us. All Woonyaks feel the same. We show them the Golden Grotto and the WooPeace and give them time in the Golden Grotto to meditate. They all come to understand the truth. There is no peace apart from the WooPeace. Hunjah!”
“Thank you, WooZan,” Breister said. “I appreciate your kindness, but I already have a family. Tomorrow, I will begin my work of finding my daughter.”
Later, as WooZan and her servant conducted Breister back to the Golden Grotto, neither said anything. In this instance, both knew what the other was thinking.
Before turning in to sleep in the Golden Grotto, Breister sat gazing out through the LuteWoo. One by one, he saw stars begin to twinkle in the night sky. They passed before his gaze, as the turning earth brought different stars past the LuteWoo ‘window.’ It seemed to Breister that the ‘other world’ was spinning past him as he lay helplessly alone, deep within the earth.