Birthday for the Den
The little cub stretched and yawned in her quiet corner of the den. As she blinked the sleep from contented eyes she realized something was very different. There were other here today - elders that were not often seen playing amongst the cubs - some whose names she had only heard whispered. And while the elders did come to visit, never had she seen so many at once. And there was a flurry of activity - preparations.
Something was happening - or coming. She tried to recall, if it was a birthday it must be a special one, but whose? This was not a season of holidays - there had been no major events. The season of flowers was approaching - so it was not Papa's or Grandfather's or Papa's Ladywolf as their birthdays were nearer the dancing of the colored leaves.
But the signs were everywhere - the soft throws in the den were all shaken and fluffed, the den had been aired out and was spotless, all the cubs had brushed their fur and were on their best behavior, and the air was electric with happy excitement. Even at the season of giving when the world slept under a blanket of snow and the northern lights danced there had not been more excitement. But everyone seemed so busy, far too busy for the cub to dare stop just to hear the cub's questions.
As the cub looked around she saw an area of calm - no need to even look to see who. The feeling of calm was so pure she knew it was Mama visiting the cubs and the den. Mama could help the cub thought, she could always make time and her love and calm made even the most timid cub feel at ease. The cub worked her way quietly across the den toward Mama.
The cub eased up next to Mama, "Mama, what is coming? There are signs of a celebration - what do we celebrate?" Mama smiled - "a birthday cub - the birthday of our pack". The cub thought - a birthday - for the pack? When she had found this place of peace it had seemed it had always been - there was a before? There had been a time before the pack and the den?
Seeing the cub's puzzlement Mama smiled - "Come, let me tell you how this den and this pack came to be cub. Sit here and I will spin you a tale from the threads that are truth" As the cub sat mesmerized by the word pictures Mama painted, quietly the rest began to gather. Even those who knew well the tale having lived it wished to hear the story of how the love of one for all the rest had planted the seed that brought forth the birth of this special place.