An eerie melody filled the colourful marketplace of a small desert village; the tune winding through the bustling alleys, finding its way into the many buildings and homes that lined the streets. Heads turned, lips smiled, children called to one another, chasing along familiar paths and darting past other villagers in their race to the edge of the market. The gypsies had returned.
A crowd began to gather as the music continued to float through the small village, inviting the market-goers to come forth. A huge, brightly decorated tent had been erected on the outskirts of the market, and an old, grizzled wolf sat cross-legged upon a worn mat next to it. He held a delicate and well-crafted silver flute in his handpaws as he played with incredible skill. Beautiful, hauntingly familiar, music flowed from the flute, finding the ears of those who had gathered to listen. But it was not for his skill that they came.
The flute player brought his tune to an end amidst much clapping and the occasional sound of coins clinking together as kind villagers gifted the small woven basket beside the wolf with their donations. Movement stirred at the front of the great tent, and all eyes turned to it as other musicians spilled forth. A youthful jackal joined the elder flute player on a mat of his own, pulling a similar flute from his robes as he sat down. Two kangaroo rats, brothers most assumed, shuffled away from the tent after the jackal, each carrying a set of hand drums. They took their place on the ground some feet away and across from the flute players, in their own way pushing back the gathering crowd to form a small clearing. A fifth musician, a jovial looking lizard, strode confidently away from the tent holding a strangely shaped stringed instrument, a cimbalom, and two sticks. He was new to the gypsy troupe. The lizard smiled charmingly as he, too, settled onto the ground across from the tent, finishing the creation of a makeshift stage.
An expectant hush fell over the crowd as one of the drummers began to beat out a slow rhythm. After a moment, the lizard began to play his cimbalom, and the members of the village smiled, nodding to each other as the rich sound filled out the melody that was soon picked up by the elder flute player. Once it seemed as though the gypsies\x92 new member had the approval of the audience, the rest of the musicians joined in, and the tune took on a more beckoning tone, as if they were trying to summon someone forth. All eyes once more shifted to the tent as movement was again seen within. Slowly, her graceful form swaying gently in time with the music, a young, veiled feline emerged.
She moved slowly towards the center of the clearing, an air of mystery and intrigue surrounding her. Her slender body was adorned with vibrantly coloured fabrics beneath the sheer veil that hid her features from full view. Gold jewelry glinted in the light, and as she moved, a soft, very faint tinkling could barely be heard above the music. The members of the audience jostled one another, pushing and standing up on tiptoes to get a better view of the veiled gypsy. Her full, luxurious tail swished behind her as she continued to make her way gracefully before the crowd.
As she reached the middle of the stage that had been created for her, the music that had called her from the tent stopped. The dancer lifted her tone arms, tugging on the shimmering veil that covered her, pulling it off to reveal herself.
She was approximately five feet, seven inches tall, her long legs ending with well-manicured, digitgrade footpaws. She was the embodiment of feline grace as she stood, poised before the enchanted crowd. Her blue eyes sparkled like sapphires, their depths tugging at the souls of all who watched and met her gaze. Her chocolate coloured headfur was brushed to a beautiful glowing luster, and she boasted the colour-point markings of a Himalayan cat, a creature of exotic beauty in the desert lands the gypsies traversed. Her costume was simple, and at the same time extremely elegant. Several gold bangles glinted at her wrists, and a delicate golden anklet of quiet bells was the source of the jingling sound that came from her. To everyone present, she was mesmerizing; then she smiled and took their breath away.
A secretive look played across her features when she smiled, and her eyes twinkled with life. Soon, she would speak to those around her, deliver to them a special gift, and she would not utter a sound. The dancer turned her gaze to the troupe leader who watched her, smiling his own smile back at her. She knew how to ensnare the attention of the crowd. He nodded when their eyes met, lifting the flute he held to his lips. Around him, the other musicians readied themselves as the wolf started to play. The tune began slowly, the other musicians joining in as the dancer started to move in time to the music, swirling her veil. It flowed gracefully with her, as if merely an extension of herself and not just some piece of cloth. Her steps were delicate and complex, and as the music played, she danced a story of secrets, a story spoken with movements alone.
The pace of the tune picked up, and the dancer smiled again. She released the veil from her grasp, and as it fluttered to the ground away from her, she twirled around and lifted her arms above her, gesturing with her hands. Two different and somewhat smaller veils seemed to appear from nowhere, shimmering in the light as she danced. With the new veils, the feline continued her story, swirling them about her like wisps of smoke. Her captive audience clapped along to the music as they watched, smiling at one another, each enjoying the entertainment the gypsies had brought to them.
Up, down, around. Step, skip, flourish. Dip, leap, gesture. Bend, twist, twirl. She danced like a playful summer breeze through the trees. Her eyes closed as her smile deepened, and she lost herself to the music and the magic of the movement she created and cherished above all else. She wove a spell through the villagers, entreating them to lose themselves likewise, to take a chance and discover the secrets of the dance she offered.
In the dance, she was freedom. She was all things right with the world. She was the earth below, the wind above, the fire that burned, the water that flowed. She was the spirit. She was sorrow and joy. She was the essences of their souls embodied in endless motion. She captured life in the steps of the dance she wove. She gave her audience a chance to join with her heart in her perfect expression of love; all they had to do was watch. She danced for them a dance they would never dare for themselves. She was hope.
Twice a year, the gypsies visited the small desert village. They brought with them their gift of music, the elder wolf\x92s haunting melody calling the villagers forth, begging them to listen, to come and see. But it was not for the musicians that they stayed. It was for her, for her dance. She danced like no other, weaving a spell and a story with her complex steps and shimmering veils. She brought the villagers a very special gift with her dance, a chance for them to find their freedom from whatever chains they feel bound by, a chance to see the beauty of life in her every move. True, it was the music that beckoned to the villagers, but it was the magic of the dance that made them return.
Based on a drawing in my 'Sketches' directory.