Legend of the Pricklepeople A Short Story by Granny Which Witch and Plagiarized Shamelessly by PS Wright Read online

laughing behind her back. Higher and higher she climbed as the grasses and scrub became more sparse. Soon even the lichen had disappeared and only bare rock lay all around. Mighty winds tried to blow her off the mountain even though she stayed close to the rocky walls and took the safest path. The air grew cold and thin. Her tender skin was growing pale and cracked as the wind whipped the moisture away. She was moving more slowly but she could see the peak poking up into the misty clouds.

  As she arrived at the very top of the mountain, the wind roared so powerfully she was nearly picked right up despite her great weight. Carnegiea sought a crevice in the rock and drove her four foot tap root down into it. There were few fissures this high up for her many shorter roots to take hold in. Despite her reserve of water, her recent travels left her dehydrated. Though her tap root quested deep down in the crevice, there was no water to find. All the rain that ever fell here crystalized from the cold or evaporated in the thin, dry air. Carnegiea tried to be brave in the face of her hardships. She reminded herself of the cursed trees below. Now she had only to attract a lovely oriole to her arms. She had given shelter to woodpeckers before but she had never had songbirds within her embrace. Still, she had a lovely little boot left by the last woodpecker family she had nurtured. Spying a family of buzzards crouching low in their nest on an outcropping of rock not far down the mountain, she called out to them, "Have you seen an oriole?"

  "Orioles are seldom seen this high up the mountain. But there are many among the Agaves below."

  This did not sound promising. Her people did not get along with the Agaves. But she knew she had to swallow her pride and complete her mission. So she called back, "Is there any way you could bring one here? I will give it shelter in my warm embrace in exchange for a lesson in how to sing its song."

  "Why not go below where it is warmer and ask one for yourself?" the buzzard asked in an annoyed voice.

  The cactus explained her purpose in climbing the mountain.

  Although the buzzard had no particular concern for the trees' plight, which she thought they had brought on themselves, she thought it might serve her well to make an ally or two in case she should ever need their protection. So the buzzard flew down to the valley floor and found a small group of orioles. Sure enough, one was willing to join the cactus in her aerie and teach her the oriole song in exchange for a cozy home in a saguaro boot.

  The oriole patiently taught the Saguaro youth how to sing her song. When she was certain of the tune, Carnegiea began to hum as loudly as possible. Her spiny branches lent themselves to the task and the howling wind was made to sing the oriole's song. Day and night Carnegiea hummed the witch away. She had no way of knowing if her song was effective. She did not know how long she had to hum the witch's anthem. She could only hope that when she had succeeded, the Pines would send someone with the good news.

  As the days wore on and the winter settled in on the mountain, Joshua became concerned that he had not seen the cactus girl come back down. Surely she had realized by now that she had been teased and would give up. But as the snows blanketed the rock, he knew that Carnegiea would be in trouble. Her people did not weather the cold well. Their winters were mild and brief and their soil soft enough for them to find moisture with their masses of short roots. Carnegiea could not survive atop the mountain. He realized he had done wrong by her and set out to fetch her back.

  As Joshua arrived at the top of the mountain, he beheld the mighty Saguaro with her arms held aloft. A soft blanket of snow covered her outstretched arms. As he approached, she neither moved nor spoke. Her color was woody tan like the sands from which she hailed. When he approached, the oriole popped its head from deep within her boot. "Ah, it is only an Agave. The beautiful Carnegiea Saguaro has ceased her humming but she lives yet. I fear she will not make it back down the mountain in her state. She is frozen, her life's water nearly used up and only her deepest heart still warm. Yet she protected me with her warmth in this boot. I cannot leave her in this state. I will give my life's warmth to keep her interior warm until I too freeze. Were we successful at least, in saving the trees?"

  Joshua was struck with the realization that he had caused this double tragedy for a jest. Unable to admit to the bird that he may have caused their demise foolishly, Joshua assured the oriole that the people were again mighty trees, all accept a few sequoia who had foolishly huddled in a ravine and not been cured. Joshua could not leave Carnegiea and the oriole alone in their hour of need. So he went to her and wrapped his arms around her to protect her from the biting winds and freezing cold. To the oriole he said, "I have many buds brought by the colder days. Within the buds are the moth larvae which will grow the moths that pollinate our flowers. You can survive if you make a meal of my seeds and the larvae that feed off them."

  All through the winter Joshua Tree stood by the cactus protecting her and sharing his warmth. When at last the spring came, the oriole flew away to tell the Saguaro family what had become of their youngest daughter and how she had saved the Pines of the mountain from the witch's curse. Carnegiea shook herself and woke with the warmth of the sun. The snow melted and Carnegiea drank the cool water and was refreshed. "Joshua, you can let me go now. You kept me warm through the winter and I am grateful but now I am able to travel again and must go home."

  The Agave clansman found his branches stiff and gnarled from their long time in the same position. Only with great difficulty were the cactus and yucca plant able to separate. As they pulled apart, Joshua's stiff branches broke here and there.

  Carnegiea walked her companion back to the village of the local folk. When they arrived, Joshua was shocked to see that a small stand of twisted trees resembling his own family now occupied the human camp. He addressed the first he saw, "Clansman, where are the humans who used to camp here?"

  "We are your friends Joshua, do you not recognize us?" The one he addressed waved his twisted and stunted limbs, drawing others near.

  "Joshua, you return! The winter witch said you had frozen up on the rocky top of this frozen mountain. How happy we are that you survived. And here is Carnegiea!"

  Joshua Agave struggled to comprehend. "But you are not as I left you."

  Carnegiea, who still had not been told of the deception, rejoiced. "Oh happy day! You are rescued from the curse. The Mistress When has released you. Thanks be to the oriole who taught me her song. And thanks to you Joshua, for all you did."

  Struck by this strange transformation, Joshua could do little but wave goodbye to dear Carnegiea as she returned to her family. While the cactus girl was certain she had gained the cooperation of the Pines against the Agaves, Joshua knew this was not so. When she had gone from their mountain, he again asked his friends in the human encampment, "How did this happen?"

  One of the trees, obviously older than the others and nearly forty feet tall, spoke for all. "Do you not remember me, the weaver of tales? It was I who told the fair Carnegiea that the winter witch, Mistress When, was responsible for turning us. When the hum of the oriole's song carried to the witch's ear, she became incensed that we had impugned her reputation, so she sent her curse on a furious wind which tore across the mountain. We humans were transformed in the manner Carnegiea requested. Oh, but it is not the cactus girl's fault. No. Were we not the ones who told her to hum the witch away? Now the Mistress When has called us the humwichaway and that is what we are!"

  Joshua felt a pain deep in his woody heart. He had done wrong first by Carnegiea Saguaro, and then by his human friends and even the winter witch herself. How childishly he had behaved. "Is there anything I can do to reverse this mischief?"

  "Perhaps if you traveled to the home of the winter witch and apologized?" suggested the weaver of tales.

  "But I don't know the way."

  The tale teller dismissed this concern. "You have only to ask the wood rats. They know the way."

  Joshua scurried off to find one of the many wood rats who made their nests in the fallen wood of the Agave. It was not long before he
found a fellow willing to help. The rat heard his plea and offered a bargain. "If you will give to me one half of the fruit of this year's blooms, I will guide you all the way to the witch's home."

  Joshua Agave quickly agreed and the two descended the rest of the way down the mountain and began the long trek across the desert. Farther and farther from the mountain, the travelers trudged. The further they departed from the shadow of the mountain, the hotter grew the air and the dryer grew the ground. The cracked earth held little purchase for Joshua's roots when the charged desert winds scoured the landscape, threatening to tip the Agave and send him rolling like the tumbleweeds. Joshua's buds lay tightly curled, unable to find the moisture and cool air necessary to open into blossoms. He dragged his pendulous roots and gnarled limbs through sand dunes and dried gulley washes. Though he watched the sky for some hint of rain, none gave relief to the rat and his companion. Here there were no snows to provide runoff from the melt. Joshua found his steps slower, a stiffness overtaking his stride. He did not need much water, but even his needs were not provided for. The rat rode in silence among his branches. Though he was not walking, he too grew exhausted and dehydrated. Joshua said, "I