making my way to the house of serpents

I seem to have hit my head. Or so my donkey tells me. Or so my donkey tells me? I close my eyes, give my head a gentle shake and open them again. It takes several seconds for my vision to clear. Did I just hear my donkey (why do I have a donkey?) talking to me?

"You might wish to open your pack" said the donkey helpfully. "Pack?" I asked stupidly. "Yes, pack." the donkey replied patiently, as one talking to a very small child. "The enchantress packed each of you a small sack in case we became separated. You should open it and see what's inside."

I opened the pack. On top was a pari of spectacles. "Put them on," said the donkey. "They will help your vision to clear."

"But I don't wear glasses!" I said.
The donkey twitched in aggravation, took a deep breath, let it out in a whoosh, and then said ever-so-calmly "Just. Do. It."

So I put on the spectacles. My vision clears, but becomes strange. The donkey, rather than being a drab brown, is now a glowing lavender. "What?!" I ask the air around me . . .

The donkey spoke. "My name is Yuji. I am your guide. I was also your ride until you chose to fall off and whack your head against that tree branch. Well, perhaps that was a bit unkind . . . until the riders came separated our party, and rode off into different directions. In your defense, I don't suppose you TRIED to whack your head and fall off."

My anger came boiling to the surface. I still don't remember the incident, and I resent being condescended to by a mere donkey.

"Hardly mere donkey. More like amazing donkey. Stupendous donkey," he said as his head began to grow. About to continue waxing poetic about his virtues, he instead took a deep breath, held it, and let it out as the size of his head returned to normal. "And anyway," he said, "this is simply the form I choose to take at this exact moment. Even were I a mere donkey, which I am not, I still would not be a mere donkey."

My head was beginning to spin. I didn't think I had spoken? "Are you listening to my thoughts?" I asked the donkey.
"Only because you are broadcasting them," said the donkey. "Turn down the volume, and I won't have to read your mind. "

This isn't going very well. Obviously the donkey, or the sometimes-donkey, or Yuji as he calls himself, is going to have the last word. Silently, and with my head throbbing, I re-open the sack to examine its contents. There is a candlestick with the tiniest bit of bayberry scent in the wax drippings left behind, a tiny anchor for reasons unknown, a unicorn medallion which I put around my neck and a tiny set of wings. In the very bottom is a bell. It has a clapper but makes no sound. "Does it still ring?" I giggled at myself, thinking of a zen koan. Strange, a bell with no sound . . . I wonder what that's about . . .

"Your memory will come back as you ride" said Yuji. "I think we should continue on our journey so that we can arrive before dark. It's not safe to be alone out here. And you forgot the map in the bottom of the sack."

"Map?" I ask.

"The. Map. To. Our. Destination." said the donkey.

"Our destination?" I repeat cluelessly. I am starting to feel like a parrot.

Silence. I can feel the donkey's blood pressure rising.

"Get on, so we can go" said Yuji finally. "And we'll hope your memory comes back sooner than later. You were much more entertaining before your fall."

* * * * * * * * * * *

Several hours later, we pass through a gate with a rusty hinge. "We're on the grounds now, it won't be much longer," said the donkey.

"Much longer till what?" I ask.

"Our arrival at the house of serpents," said the donkey. "You can see it there, ahead of us."