Unicorn Farm - Biology Lesson

Perpendicular - Languishing - Virtuous - Pedestrian - Typewriter - Dashing These words are still orphans of last Wednesday. The story continues ... without these words being used.

This biology lesson was strange. Take a lantern with a candle inside. find a place to sit alone, say the appropriate spell, and open up to the wildlife of the Island. The green team spread out, and when Susan no longer could see any of her team mates, she looked for a suitable spot to sit in.
  Susan found an old beech tree in a nice, sunny spot. She placed the lantern on a stump next to the big tree and sat down under the tree. She looked around. No life to be seen, only the leaves moved, not a bird, not a butterfly, not even an ant. But they were asked to restraint themselves to bigger animals, mammals were the best for this first try. Susan tried to open her mind, tried to feel the inhabitants of tree and leaf. She said the spell, carefully articulating the Icelandic syllables, and leaned back against the tree. The sun shone into her eyes, she closed them and listened. The leaves were softly rustling, a branch was rubbing against another with an almost inaudible almost bubbling sound. She considered moving closer to the water, but then again, she did not want to meet the mind of a fish or a crustacean. She would stay here, and hope to meet some sort of animal before she had to light the lantern. Of course she hoped for an owl. She had not forgotten the owls at Granny's clothes line. She had wanted to tell Thora about Granny's owls, but there had not been any opportunity. She wondered what the owls would tell her if they could, how it would be to be an owl, to be able to fly and soar through the air, to see in the dark, sit on the branches of a tree, and have a nest up there. What would owls do in rain, and how did they keep warm in winter? They did not hibernate as the hedgehogs, or fly south as swallows and peewits. 
  The tree she was leaning against had a very rough bark, and her back felt imprinted with marks. She was hungry, so very hungry. "Raisins," she thought, "Oh raisins would be nice. Or cheese. Or sausage. Sausage is better. But here is not any. There's a candle up there. I can eat that." Susan opened her eyes. "Candles? I do not eat candles. What nonsense is this; some kind of dream."
  Then she saw the mouse sitting next to her sandal. "Mouse," she said softly. "Was it your thoughts? Do you want something to eat?"
  The answer was in her brain, a tiny little thing, but very clear: "HUNGRY!" She slowly opened the lantern and pulled out the candle. "Do you really want to eat this?" she said incredulously, and placed the candle on the ground beside her. The mouse smelled the candle, the tiny whiskers twitching with delight. Then it began nibbling. Susan felt the hunger being sated, she leant back once more against the tree and studied the mouse. It was an ordinary house mouse, rather big, brownish, but very thin. She could almost see the ribs under the skin. The whiskers were constantly moving, the beady eyes darting to and fro and the nose was twitching even when the mouse was not eating.
  "What do you smell, little mouse?" Susan asked softly. The answer was a jumble of sensations, warm soil, earthworms, the fatty-brittle feeling of candle on teeth, birds' chirping, mouldy branches, smells of beetles and lizards, Sunshine on hot fur and beechnuts not yet ripe and tongue-curlingly bitter.Susan could only open up to all this, and try to make it meaningful. She tried thinking calming, do not be afraid of me-thoughts at the mouse, but she really had no idea if the mouse understood or not.
  When the mouse had eaten a large bite out of the candle, Susan picked it up again. She broke off the lower half and dropped it to the ground, cramming the upper half back into the holder inside the lantern. "You keep that, little mouse. Now I have to go." Susan said softly.
  And carefully, afraid to scare off the little creature, she got up, took the lantern and made her way to the beach. She walked along the beach, looking for belemnites among the stones on the beach. She did not find any, only a perfect round stone with a hole in it, a lucky stone. She held the stone in one hand and the lantern in the other. She had not wholly understood why the lantern was a necessary prop for calling and listening to animals. Except that it had worked in finding her a hungry mouse.