Flying Horses and Ferals

In August 2024, I went into meditation and imagined myself at the Pond. It was quiet, barren surroundings, as usual. No color, little light.

And, as usual, I called out telepathically for Hawke. But this time, I was inspired to add a request.

“Would any of the other Ferals like to join us? I’m feeling like we might need them.”

I saw movement on the rocky slope nearby and watched as all eight of the Ferals strode toward me, eight powerful, beautiful, shifter males. My creations. My friends. My family. 

“Goddess.” Jag grinned and swept me up into a big hug. “About time you invited the rest of us. Wings, here, has been having all the fun.”

I laughed. “Not every visit requires the whole team, but I love that you all came.”

Lyon pulled me close, met my gaze with a love that mirrored that which I felt for all of them. “We will always come when you call, Goddess. Always.” His gaze lifted to sweep the surroundings. “What happened here?”

“This is just the place of my shadow, what remains of it, where I dig out the fears that I still need to release. And to do other work, I think. I call it the Pond. It shows me what’s needed.”

“Have you looked, yet?” Hawke asked. He’s been here with me before.

As I shook my head, I slid out of Lyon’s embrace and walked to the water’s edge, my companions close behind me. 

The surface of the water was like glass, for there was no wind in this place today. But no image appeared, which is unusual. It usually shows me something when I look into it, but today, the Pond remained dark.

So I felt into the situation and got an intuitive hit. “There’s something else going on, some other reason we’re here.”

Even as I said the words, half of my Feral companions tensed, drawing knives and taking a battle stance. I looked up to find some great beast flying towards us from over the ridge. There was too little light to see it clearly. But as it drew near, I recognized the winged horse I’ve met before, one I’ve been calling Pegasus, for lack of another name. 

“A flying horse?” Jag stood down, looking a little embarrassed about taking a defensive posture against a horse. “Whoever heard of a flying horse?”

“Not big on Greek mythology,” Hawke, our academic, murmured. 

I gave Jag a smirk. “Whoever heard of a man who shifts into a jaguar?”

“Touche,” he replied with a chuckle as Tighe slugged him lightly on the arm. 

Hawke reminded them all, “This isn’t our world. This is the sixth dimension, the dimension of imagination. While it looks, sounds, even feels solid and real, it’s not. Anything can happen here.” 

“Anything?” Fox asked, sounding more than a little intrigued.

Hawke nodded. “Anything. It’s the non-physical.”

Jag returned Tighe’s slug to the arm. “Feels physical to me.”

I just shook my head at them and walked over to where Pegasus was landing.

“Hello, my friend.”

Pamela, Pegasus replied telepathically. You are needed. All of you.

“Where?” Lyon asked.

I looked at the Chief of the Ferals. “You heard him?”

Lyon and the others nodded. 

A different realm. We will take you there.

The Ferals and I glanced at one another, not sure how this was going to work, but a moment later, our unspoken question was answered when a…herd? or would that be a flock?…of winged horses appeared, cresting the rise, then landed all around us. 

Mount, Pegasus said, and we will be off.

The Ferals are strong, powerful males, so it amused me to see them exchanging looks filled with more than a little trepidation. 

“It’s perfectly safe,” I told them, then grabbed Pegasus’ mane and leaped onto his back.

“I’m happy to fly on my own,” Hawke offered.

You cannot traverse the realms without our assist, Pegasus told him.

Hawke nodded, chose a horse and mounted. Despite a general, and decided, lack of enthusiasm, the others did the same.

Moments later, the horses lifted into the air and began to fly as if they and their passengers weighed nothing. 

Quickly, we were enveloped in a hazy orange fog, and I could no longer see the ground below. Which made a certain kind of logic, since we were literally traveling across realms.

Your pulse is quickening, Pegasus said. There is nothing for you to fear.

I was about to refute that I felt any fear, but realized he wasn’t speaking to me, when Jag replied, muttering out loud, “Easy for you to say. You have wings.”

“I’d rather be able to see where we’re going.” Fox’s voice, as always, possessed a hint of an Irish brogue. 

“I’ve flown an airplane in this kind of soup,” Tighe replied. “But I usually have instruments to go by. Hope to hell we’re not going to plow into a mountainside.”

“We’re in the non-physical,” Hawke reminded them calmly.

“What does that even mean?” Jag asked, then quickly added, “Don’t answer that, Wings,” using his nickname for Hawke. Jag has always been fond of nicknames. “We don’t have time for a long-winded dissertation. I hope.”

 I glanced at Hawke and he winked at me. Because, the truth was, we were still trying to figure out how you called something that felt so real ‘the non-physical’?

Finally, the orange haze began to clear, although the sky remained a brownish gray, as if it were in need of a good cleaning.  

Below, the landscape began to reveal itself. A vast grassland devoid of trees, with a scattering of rustic dwellings here and there. And dead bodies as far as the eye could see. 

I gasped at the sight, sickened. There were hundreds of them. Perhaps thousands, in various states of dismemberment. These deaths had not been caused by any kind of natural disaster, but by violence. Horrific viciousness. 

Various swear words erupted around me as my companions pulled knives against whatever, or whoever, had done this. 

This devastation was caused by warrior energy run amok, Pegasus told us. It can only be healed by warrior energy fueled by love.

My warriors looked confused, unsure what to do with that. But I didn’t have an answer.

The horses landed in the middle of the carnage, and it was soon clear that this was no mere battlefield. The dead included women, children of all ages, horses and other animals. This had been a slaughter, and it appeared to have happened recently, for I sensed no decomposing. And, fortunately, no smell.

“Uh…Goddess?” Paenther said, drawing my attention. “We’re floating.”

My eyebrows shot up as I realized that Pegasus’ soft-as-air landing had taken place literally in the air. The horses had all come to a stop about a foot above the ground.

“What the eff?” Jag muttered. 

“It’s the non-physical,” Hawke reminded them once more. “You can float, too. If you believe you can.”

“And if I can’t?” asked Wulfe.

“Then you’ll land on the ground.” Although the ground was a minefield of bodies. “Your choice.”

“I think I’ll stay here,” Wulfe said.

You must dismount. You must stand in this energy fully, embrace it fully, in order to transmute it.

Once again, my companions exchanged wary looks, as if they were regretting their quickness to answer my call. I felt a surge of compassion and concern for them, because, as immortal warriors, they’d all killed many, many times on the field of battle. 

And now they were being asked to transmute this violent energy. I wasn’t sure they understood what that meant, but I did. It wasn’t going to be pretty.

We all dismounted. I was able to land a few feet above the ground, as the horses had. Hawke, too, managed it, though I could tell he was struggling to maintain the levitation. The thinking mind is a powerful thing, especially with him.

The others didn’t even try to believe they could levitate, instead landing heavily on the blood-soaked grasses. Which was probably for the best. Clearly, they needed to embrace this devastation fully.

I walked to the center of the ring of winged horses, keeping my gaze unfocused, not wanting to see what was below me any more than necessary. 

The Ferals turned to face me, for once having to look up at me, which I rather enjoyed. Even Hawke had given up the struggle to believe in his ability to levitate and was now standing firmly on the ground with the others.

“What now, Goddess?” Lyon asked.

I shook my head, not sure. But I closed my eyes and felt into it. The answer usually came to me if I allowed it to.

“The horse says we need to transmute this energy,” Wulfe said.

“But what does that mean, exactly?” Fox asked.

I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “It means you must feel the emotions of this place.”

“Just feel them?” Jag snorted. “That’s easy.”

I met Jag’s gaze with compassion. “You have to let them tear through you, my friend. You have to feel each and every one of the low vibrational emotions here – the hatred, the anger, the fear, the grief – as if they were yours. Really feel them.”

“Oh. Shit.”

“Yeah. This is not going to be easy. I know most of you would rather do battle with knives, any day.” My gaze met and caught each of theirs in turn. “This is being asked of you because you’re probably the only ones who can do it. But it’s your choice. The days of me forcing you to do things ended when I finished writing your books.”

Lyon didn’t hesitate. “We’re here for whatever you need, Goddess. For whatever is in the highest good.” He glanced at his Feral brothers, then winked at me. “You might offer them a choice. I do not.” 

I didn’t think I’d ever seen Lyon wink, and laughed. “Thank you, Lyon. Thank you all. Let’s start with five minutes. And I ask the horses to time it.” My gaze went to each of my companions. “Open yourself to the emotions of this place, feel them deeply, as if they were yours. And then let them rip through you and come out.”

“If you need to yell or scream or roar, then do so. If you feel tears trying to rise, not only let them, but encourage them.”

A couple of them looked at me aghast.

“This is going to suck,” Fox muttered, speaking for all of them.

“I know. Emotions that are buried, fester and destroy,” I reminded them. “Virtually all of you know that first-hand. You’ve lived with that damage.” 

I felt my guides, Alexander, wanting to come through, so I began to channel. “Emotions have to be felt and acknowledged in order to be released. In this case you’re being asked to feel and acknowledge not only your own emotions, but those of everyone who died here. The more you allow yourselves to feel them, the more fully you’ll transmute them.”

“And it has to be you,” I continued. “You’ve known warrior energy, channeled it, for most of your lives. Yet you blaze now with healed hearts filled with love. You, alone, have the ability to transmute this. If you’re willing.”

I looked at each of my friends, one after the other. “This has to come from a place of free will. From a genuine desire to make right what has gone so wrong. Not from a place of guilt or from a desire to help, in some way. Or,” I looked at Lyon, “as a result of an order from your chief. It must come from your heart. From the fire within you, the need to light up the darkness and heal all of the shattered and aching hearts.”

For a moment, they were silent. This was no simple request, and they were beginning to realize that. They had to be one hundred percent committed in order for it to work.

Kougar was the one who spoke first. “My light was out almost completely, Goddess. Thanks to you, and my Ariana, it burns brightly again. More than it ever did. More than I thought possible. If I can offer that to anyone else, I will.”

“You made us whole,” Panther said simply. “I’m in.”

One by one, the others nodded, some a bit reluctantly, and said, “Me, too.”

I chose not to remind them that I’d created the traumas in their lives as much as I’d created the healing. Once, years ago, I’d apologized for all I’d put them through and they’d assured me that it had been a small price to pay for the love and joy that had become theirs as a result. 

“Through those whole and beautiful hearts of yours, you’ve aligned with the divine masculine, whether you know it or not. It’s why you can do this work.” I wasn’t sure whether that came from Alexander, or me, but I knew it was the truth.

Lyon smiled, or maybe grimaced. “Then let’s get started.”

“Don’t battle each other,” I warned them. “Try to avoid violence. Move away if you need to. But you must give into the emotion fully. Give it free rein. No suffering in silence!”

I heard several groans.

“Five minutes only. To start.”

More groans.

Paenther began to snarl and I saw that he was staring at the decapitated body of a small child. I could see, as well as feel, the horror building in him, the anger, the grief. 

“Take it all in,” I said softly. “But then let it all out. However it needs to come, let it out.”

Jag began to curse a blue streak at the top of his lungs. 

I stroked Pegasus’s neck as I watched these males that I loved so much struggle with their emotions. For once, struggle not to contain them. 

“This isn’t the time for stoicism,” I reminded them. “Get emotional! It’s the only way.”

As if he’d suddenly dropped his hold on himself, Tighe went feral – that halfway place between man and beast that they were all able to access, drawing fangs, and claws. 

To my surprise, Hawke swiftly followed, then Paenther. Lyon shifted entirely into his lion form and let out a roar that shook the air, rattling the ground. 

One after another, they lost themselves to their most primal nature. Several of the big cats raced across the bloodied ground, deeply agitated. The wolf and jaguar faced each other, each snarling as if they would fight to the death. 

I trusted these males with my life, but there were violent emotions in this place, the emotions of not only the victims, but the men who had perpetrated the crimes in this place, men far more dangerous than the most wild of animals.  

A frisson of fear snaked through me at the barely-leashed violence rising thickly in the air all around me.

Could they do this? Had we asked the impossible?

I heard the fury, the rage, the anguish, in their growls. And the pain. So much pain. 

“It’s too much,” I said to Pegasus.

It needs to be done, he replied. But five minutes has passed.

If the Ferals had heard – and I wasn’t sure Pegasus had meant it for their ears – they didn’t respond. Now, I was torn, because it was clear they were in the throes of something far bigger than I’d anticipated. I couldn’t simply call a break. 

I’d written plenty of battle scenes for them in their books, plenty of scenes filled with anguish or fear. But I wasn’t writing this one, certainly not from a place of calm, logical plotting. If I was creating this scenario, it was at a higher-self level, far beyond my human consciousness.

And I didn’t know what to do to help my friends.

As if reading my mind, Pegasus said, This is what is needed. This energy needs to be released and they are the ones to do it. It will take however long it takes.

Wulfe howled. At the edge of the battleground, Lyon let out a terrible roar.

Watching my friends, my family, in such anguish was awful. Minutes ticked by. I ached at the furor and grief, the chest pounding and pain ripped from their lungs. Those who’d fully shifted into their animals were roaring, crying out, thrashing. 

Wulfe took off, running up and over the rise, Jag close on his heels. To stop him, to battle him, or to join him in seeking escape? I had no idea.

If they all ran off, then what? I sighed. I supposed I’d find them somehow. 

Finally, finally, their anguish, their agitation, began to lessen. Lyon shifted back to his human form, then Tighe.

One by one, the others, too, shifted back. Although some of them were unable to keep their clothes on through a shift in their own realm, none of them had any trouble doing so here. 

“Where are Wulfe and Jag?” Lyon asked, looking as drained as a human who’d just run a marathon.

We’ll retrieve them, Pegasus said. Two of the horses rose into the air and flew away. Minutes later, they returned, the two missing Ferals on their backs, fully back in their skins, as they put it. In one piece, but clearly exhausted. 

It is done, Pegasus said. The energy has been cleared.

As he said the words, the bodies littering the ground began to shimmer, then disappear, along with the blood and all signs of battle. Healthy, lush grass, and wildflowers, began to appear in their place.

“What the…?” Tighe began, then stopped with a frown. “Is anyone else seeing this?”

A scene had materialized around us, a shimmery vision as if we were watching ghosts. And in a sense, I thought we really might be. 

Fathers hugged their healthy kids and put their arms around the shoulders of their wives. The invaders who I presumed had caused the carnage, stood in a cluster to one side, their heads bowed in remorse.

As we watched, the fathers, still holding their kids, walked over to the marauders and patted them on the shoulders.

“They’re forgiving them,” Tighe said with a mixture of disbelief and wonder. 

“No harm done,” said one of the fathers.

Wulfe looked at me, clearly stunned. “How can he say no harm done? They couldn’t have done more harm if they’d tried. And I think they did try.”

Words came to me. “What you saw were the spirits, the souls, of those who died in this place. And from the viewpoint of spirit, nothing that happens in the physical realms is real. In any of them, yours included. None of the souls were harmed. Souls can never be harmed.”

You’ve released the aspects of these souls who were trapped in the density of this place, when you transmuted the energy here, Pegasus told them. While souls never forget who they are, sometimes the aspects of the soul who play the role of a physical being do forget. 

By freeing them, you’ve allowed them to remember that they are simply Source energy beings who were having an experience in consciousness. Actors playing roles in a dark play who became so invested in their parts, and felt the emotions of those roles so deeply, that they didn’t leave those roles even after they’d died. Now they have. Now it has all been released.

“Where is this place?” Paenther asked. “When did this happen?”

It is not a single place or a single battle. It is one event through which much, much anguish and rage and violence has been transmuted with your help – past, present, and future – in many realms, in many universes. 

There is great power when you come together with your goddess, so we in the higher realms orchestrated this experience in order to release as much of the battle energy, the slaughter energy, as we could, in one place and one time. 

“So this didn’t actually happen?” Tighe asked.

It did, but perhaps not as you’re thinking of it. Many, many events throughout eons folded together in this one space, this one incident, to be released by you. We are most grateful that you were willing to offer this gift to all.

As I looked at my companions, I could tell this had taken a serious toll on them. They might be essentially immortal, but to a man–a Feral–they looked about ready to drop. I know from personal experience how exhausting it can be to run deep emotion through a physical body. And these males were not used to it. Not at all. 

“It’s time to return to the Pond,” I said. “But you need radiance first, I think.” 

Lyon’s mate, Kara, is their Radiant, the one whose energy is specifically designed to connect with Mother Earth and pull the nurturing light that empowers these males–all Ferals–allowing them to thrive and to shift.

But Kara wasn’t here. And my light, while not so specific, shines powerfully in these non-physical realms. Plenty strong enough to give them the energy boost that they needed. 

The eight of them gathered around me, each touching me somewhere—my arm, my hand, the back of my neck, my shoulder. As I stood in the middle of them, in the midst of their gentle touches and unconditional love for me, tears pricked my eyes. Love for them burst from me, and I shone with it in this place, a brilliant light.

As one, they sighed. 

Kougar was the first to break ranks and pull me against him. The others made sounds of protest, following me into that embrace until I felt like I was in the middle of a Feral cocoon, or a rugby scrum.

“Emotion sucks!” Jag exclaimed. “That was worse than any battle. So why do I feel so damn good, now?” 

I smiled. “Because you released it. Emotion has to be released. If you swallow it, out of some misguided belief that feeling it, let alone showing it, is weakness, you just turn it toxic inside of you. So much physical illness is caused by unprocessed emotions.”

“Women are better at this than men,” Wulfe said.

“In general, we are,” I said. “It’s the heart that processes the emotion, and women tend to be far better attuned to, and more accepting of, our hearts.” 

I gently freed myself from their joint embrace and moved to where I could see them all at one time, meeting their individual gazes.

“You have the potential to be much better at this than most men, since your hearts and minds have been healed. You’re living now from deep within your hearts. Maybe–”

“Nope,” Jag said, not waiting for me to finish, although I did anyway.

“Maybe your next step is to become comfortable with emotion.”

All but Hawke groaned, grimaced, or shook their heads. 

I laughed. “I’m not saying you have to become emotional. Simply be the rock, the safe space, for those who do need to process emotion. Your mates, mostly. And your children.”

“Oh, we can do that,” Fox said, clearly relieved.

“If this kind of war energy needs to be transmuted again…” I wrinkled my nose. “Any chance you’d be up for another round?” 

They looked at one another, then began to laugh, a bit ruefully. 

Lyon reached out and placed his big hand on my shoulder. “That was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done,” he admitted. “And probably the most deeply rewarding. When those bodies disappeared, and the grass and flowers bloomed, I swear I saw angels all around us, Goddess, and they were smiling.”

My own smile blossomed. “They’re always with us, whether we see them or not. Especially when we’re doing this kind of work.”

Lyon nodded. “I know that Hawke is your wingman. But anytime you need a larger component, the rest of us would like to join you.” He shrugged. “I would like to join you.”

Several of the others sighed, but nodded. 

“I’d prefer a battle with knives or claws,” Wulfe said. “But we’ll always come when you call, Goddess.”

Lyon pulled me in, and I hugged him hard, then kissed his cheek. “I love you.”

“Goddess,” he breathed. “Love is too small of a word for what we feel for you.”

I gave each of them a hug, then we all climbed back on the horses. Moments later, we landed back at the Pond. 

With a wave of thanks on our part, Pegasus and the other horses flew off. 

I said goodbye to my Ferals once more, and as they returned to their realm, I returned to mine.