Today's excerpt:
He was also allowing himself to be distracted by the feeling of various animals and their activities as he continued on down the rock. Now that the sensation had been brought to his attention, he was caught up in it, nearly reveling in the new found experiences. It was nearly magical that he could know where something was without actually seeing it or hearing it. Of course, the sensation was not perfect, and it was not totally reliable. He spent most of the trip down simply verifying the sensation with visual or auditory confirmation. About half way down it occurred to him that hunting was going to be a lot easier. And, the Seek the Hidden game would be, well, child’s play. He commented on this to Moa’qi.
“Yes. Of course, since you are a new man, you will put behind you childish things, and take up the things of a man.”
Sylk thought about this. Some of his friends were still two seasons away from trial. He remembered when an older friend of his had come back from trial, all haughty and distant, barely acknowledging his existence. He determined to not act that way, but he also realized that the relationships were now different. While occupied with these thoughts, Moa’qi interrupted his reverie with “When we get to the plain, let me know when you sense the tribe.” This added a new dimension to the experience. Sylk would learn the outer extent of his ability to sense through his skin. They were passing through the third switchback when the trail leveled some. Sylk had forgotten that it had grown steeper as it had neared the top. What he had not noticed was that it apparently had narrowed near the top as well. He was about to ask Moa’qi about it, when his Master broke into the Hunter Jog, and hastened down the trail. Confused, Sylk followed suit. They wove back and forth down the path and Sylk lost count of the switchbacks. After clearing each switchback, the path grew slightly wider, and more level. And each switchback brought an increase in speed. When they were finally running at nearly full speed, and Sylk’s lungs and legs were beginning to protest, they stopped abruptly, and Moa’qi pointed down. They were at the end of the trail, and would have to jump the last 15 or so feet. Moa’qi lightly stepped into space, and landed in a soft easy crouch. Sylk followed suit, though he had never jumped from such a height. When he hit, he landed wrong, and knocked the wind out. He struggled for that panicked moment when you think you may never breath again, and gradually his lungs re-inflated.
The ground had seemed farther away, and he realized that it was part of the illusion. He had only dropped about 7 feet, and now he knew why Moa’qi had landed so easily. While he caught his breath, his heart pounding in his chest, he wondered why the rush down the rock.
Moa’qi was already preparing camp, when dark collapsed on them again. Sylk realized they were on the day beginning side of Flat Rock, and so while the last light of day was vanishing on the opposite side, the rock hastened apparent Dark Time. Fumbling in his new kit, he pulled the finely made fire maker tools and had a fire going in almost no time. Again, Moa’qi threw some sage on the fire, and the pleasing and relaxing aroma draped about them like a blanket.
“In the morning you will see the destination point that you struggled so hard to avoid this morning. I will wake you early, so that you can watch the progression and marvel at the power.” Sylk listened absentmindedly to his Master. He was aware of something in the dark. In the fire light, he made the sign of silent caution with his hands. Something out there was moving and it was moving toward them. The ancient warrior did not even acknowledge Sylk’s signals. He just went about preparing their meal. Sylk realized that he was failing to provide the type of help, courtesy, and respect that a person in his position was supposed to offer a person in his Master’s position. He’d kind of gotten used to being ministered to, with all the mental and physical challenges that had worn on him. But, he was not in distress now. Chagrined, he began to move to help.
Low, slow, then so quick he almost missed it, Moa’qi moved his hands to a position that Sylk determined was out of sight of what ever was in the dark, and then signed to him the symbols for caution and spear. Sylk froze for a moment, then sorted out that he was to act as if nothing was happening. He looked around for his pack, gathered it up, and simultaneously positioned himself near the spear, to the left of Moa’qi, and with his back toward the rock. Whatever it was stopped moving.
Moa’qi then, as naturally and unaffectedly as he could muster, busied himself with the normal routine meal preparation. Moa’qi began some inane small talk, affecting a jovial, carefree attitude, and Sylk haltingly followed suit. Gradually, he relaxed into the farce, and was able to act as if they were the only ones there. Whatever it was remained motionless for quite some time, in fact through their whole meal, and post meal clean up. They were taking turns telling the old tale of Moab and The 7 Virgins, a ribald tale full of puns and various characters and parts, which had entertained the Tribe for untold seasons. It went something like this:
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