The days lengthened and Otter had to remember that she was a Bard. The Equinox was coming. All the creatures would gather by the stones to give thanks for the day and night being of equal length and their Bard would have to sing.
Despite the snow having disappeared and the temperatures risen, the big male otter had stayed. He brought her fish and watched approvingly as she crunched on the rich, tasty trout, smacking her lips and putting her head to one side to use her strong jaws on the tough heads. Shyly, she pushed a morsel of it towards him and they shared.
There is a truce which is called between all animals when the Spirit calls them together. Foxes can sit next to doves, cats and mice for one evening sing together. Only humans never feel this urge. Otter lolloped across the fields to the stones where she had discovered her talent for singing. As the moon rose over the trees and the animals sat in silence to receive her blessing, Otter rose to her hind legs, clasped her forepaws, closed her eyes and began to sing her song. To her surprise, a deep, throbbing bass voice joined her. A paw on her shoulder and his whiskers mixing with hers, the dog otter harmonised in the sacred song. He too was a Bard.
Thinking her heart would burst with pleasure, Otter rubbed her swelling tummy and sang as loudly as she could to her Mother, the Moon, thankful for every blessing she’d received.