The Rainbow's Seventh Colour

[Maxx]

[imgleft]https://matope.pixel-blueberry.com/imag ... r_maxx.gif[/imgleft] Distant Thunder had been watching his beloved Distant Tidings (now rather near, really) tell stories, and he was so very good at them. The tales he weaved were very tall, and the details of them so very rich. Thunder longed to incite the kind of wonder and smiles he visited upon them. Most infuriating yet inspiringly of all, his stories were so precisely created that he was taken in more than once by their lack of truth.

Thunder wanted to give it a try too, and he had mulled over his story for a while, tweaking the narrative as delicately as a thick buck like him could. He'd daren't share it with his mate, not yet, but he hurried to The Friends' territory when he heard his son speak of starving little impressional foals they'd just found. Fertile minds made for good tales, and he was soon heavily sat in front of slightly intimidated little kin before bedtime.

"You may know," he paused for dramatic effect, "of the rainbow."

There was a little foal sigh.

"In any case, it is a story of how the rainbow was formed," he hurried, slightly thrown by the critical looks of a tough crowd.

"In the early times of the Swamp, cranes were watching over various parts of the land, as the Motherfather's watchers. Six of them, all a pure white, were faithful watchers. Without fail, they tracked all their land each day, running through the grass and the plants and the water that -"

"I would fly," said a foal, "if I had wings like a crane."

"Yes," he said, hastily, "but they also run, with their long legs.

"Flew, ran. Both, undoubtedly. In having kept such a close eye on their respective regions of rule, they began to take on the colours in their plots: one took on the red of the soil, near what would be the plains. One took on the warm colours of wildflowers, orange scattered about the grass. One took on the yellow of the sun, beating down the barren lands of what would be the desert. The now-green crane found life quite easy, enveloped by the lush green of the fertile swamp. Another crane, of course, found its hue at what would be the mountains, embracing the chill of ice and snow 'till it turned blue.

The last crane, found its colour in the shade of the trees and little cliffs, turning into a deep purple, like that of the night."

"I thought the night was more, black," said a foal.

"It's purplish, I have seen it," he assured, hastily.

"The cranes met," he continued quickly, "when it rained, for the colours drained out of the swamp and its lands in the grey of the storm."

"They met to report to the Motherfather on the developments in their regions - a new growth here and there, how the little creatures were living, how the plants were changing - all sorts of things. When the rain halted, they flew out together, in a beautiful arc, as birds are wont to fly - forming a stunning band of colour, across the sky. A bower after the rain."

"A rainbow," said a foal, sarcastically.

"Not exactly," Thunder felt triumphant here, fooling little minds - he had been taught from gasping at Tidings' stories that there must always be a twist.

"You have missed one of the colours - there are only six cranes. So you see, the story is not yet over! It has only just begun!"

There was a groan. Thunder hurried on.

"Well, not just begun, but there is certainly more to the story. You see, as the lands grew and merged and split, there was a pond in the middle of the blue crane and the purple crane that was not under either of their watch. It was a little pond, formed from heavy rain, that washed the soil away in a shallow dip that became deeper. With the storms came the plants, and then the creatures, and one of those creatures was a dragonfly. It rested on the pond when the sky was sunny, and noticed that the cranes never quite came to the pond when they made their rounds, every day. When the rain came, he saw the blue and purple cranes depart, and in great curiousity, followed.

"The cranes were surprised to see a dragonfly at their stormy meeting, and the dragonfly brought up its concerns: there was no one watching its pond, in the middle of the blue and purple cranes' territories. In the presence of the Motherfather, the blue and purple cranes apologised verily, and promised to decide whose dominion it was to watch. Pleased by the quick development, the dragonfly continued to report the current situation for their information - algae had grown over the top a little, but had been recently reduced by the arrival of a frog, which let the little fish population within thrive.

"It was thus decided, after a moment of surprised wonder, that perhaps the dragonfly itself, having arrived at the meeting, would be the watcher of the pond instead. The rain had come to an end, and so had the meeting - together, they flew. This time, the dragonfly between the blue, and the purple crane. It would have been a strange sight, this gap between the two colours - had their vivid shades not reflected off the iridescent wings of the dragonfly, and turned into a new one altogether - indigo. As such, the full, true, rainbow, had been formed."

Thunder sat back with much satisfaction as the foals gaped at him, in wonder and astonishment at his tale with many details and a twist ending. They gaped for so long that he was afraid his clever story had broken their fragile little minds.

"...you could see the dragonfly with the cranes flying in the sky?"

"Oh yes of course, with the wings and everything, reflecting colour, all of that."

"...doesn't that mean the dragonfly is really big?"

"Oh yes, massive, incredibly huge, as big as my head, bigger than your head. Have you not seen them? The giant dragonflies?"

There was a shriek, "giant dragonflies bigger than my head?!"

It suddenly occurred to him that in their short little lives, they had not yet encountered the wonderful, giant, monstrous insects of the Swamp, and he had just informed them that such horrifyingly huge creatures did exist.

Illuminations had to struggle to put them to bed, and he gave him very dirty looks. He'd returned to Tidings, who had given him plenty praise after peals of laughter.

Distant Thunder thought that perhaps, he shouldn't try to tell any more stories.