The Seven Thunders Part 4

  Melda finally rose, and joined the march towards the young man and his dog.



  I knelt next to Diamond and scratched her ears. There were a multitude of them, all slowly prodding towards from all around. Diamond turned her head and regarded me.

  “I don’t understand this girl,” I said, “These mutants destroyed an entire town. Is that blood on our hands? Why do they want you so? I’ve never seen something so terrible make so little sense.”

  Diamond tilted her head as if to say how does that matter now?

  “You’re right,” I said. The thought of offering her freely as a way to ensure my own survival did surface, it was hard to ignore. Somehow I could see this thought in Diamond’s eyes as well. She made a soft whine, and licked my face. She hadn’t done that since she was a pup. She was telling me it was okay.

  As our enemies grew ever nearer, I struggled with the notion. This was certain death I was facing, there was simply no denying that. If we fought, we would die. If I gave her freely, she would be crushed, but I may have a chance to press on. I began to think of my quest, my thirst. Whatever I had been searching for, I was nowhere near it. But I had a road now, I had a direction laid for me by my father. He had told me dare not let the thirst taint your integrity, but he had failed to advise on what to do when my integrity would taint the thirst. I was still lost in this mad conflict, neither choice held sway yet, when I saw the albino in the lead.

  He and I had spoken just days earlier. The tall one, the miner general. Now perhaps 30 feet away whilst the others strode at around 50, stretched his arms out to his sides. The others stopped instantly, some with a foot still in the air in mid-step. He was summoning me to him. It seemed he wanted to talk to me.

  I made my way towards him, still uncertain of which path I would choose. To fight with her would be to betray my life’s meaning, my very essence. But to offer her freely as to barter my passage would be breaking my trust, and in all truth bartering my own soul. I cursed the skies, this conundrum seemed more than just unfortunate, it was unholy that this choice had to be made.

  With Diamond at my heel, I stopped. The tall one was right in front of me. His face held no smile, and to my surprise he regarded me directly instead of Diamond. His lifeless eyes were devoid of almost all humanity, but I could not help but notice what was lurking behind his glare. I was being regarded with respect, maybe even honor.

  “Scott Vanguard, you say,” he said, in the same drawn breathing as before.

  “I do.”

  His face became visibly sad, and I could see faint glimmers of anxiety across his ivory cheeks, almost as if he was deciding something hard. Finally, as I assumed his conflict abated, his features smoothed out and became neutral.

  “My name…was Dickory,” he said with much effort. I heard a quick, comepletely uniform gasp escape the mouths of the surrounding albinos.

  “Dickory,” I replied, “Why are you doing this? If at one time you were a man like me, some part of you must know this is madness. She is a dog. An animal. Your minds are stricken with a sick lie, and you have all done unforgiveable things. I curse you.”

  I said none of this in anger. Dickory heard my words and was terribly saddened by them. His eyes actually began to water.

  “Curse. Yes. We know,” he replied. The surrounding army repeated we know with a ghastly precision, “We must have the light.”

  “She is not the light,” I said, and bent towards her. I could see Dickory’s body tremble as I rubbed Diamond’s head, “This is Diamond. She is a dog. Don’t you see?”

  The rest of the miners were shaking, I knew without looking. I stood up. Dickory moved his eyes to mine. His eyes said a lot despite their lack of pigment. He understood completely what I was saying, but at the same time did not believe me at all.

  “You are not from the Before. We will spare you. If.”

  “Please,” I responded, “Don’t do this. Let me help you…what were all of you before? How did you become this way?”

  Dickory shook his head slowly.

  “We were always. Just not Before. Give us the light, Scott,” he gasped. The other repeated all of his words.

  I was panicking. I could not decide. Diamond was so calm next to me.

  “Who cursed you Dickory?”

  A bright flash erupted between Dickory and the others. It was a brilliant white that illuminated the miners around us.

  “YOUR BLOOD, VANGUARD!” cried a female voice. Melda seemed to appear out of nowhere, and once the light faded and the night’s darkness returned I saw her walk up and stand next to Dickory.

  “Melda,”  I said, “The trader.”

  “On occasion,” she replied. She removed her hood. She was old, but not quite as old as I’d expected. Her features implied a once beautiful woman. Her eyes were full of remarkable intelligence and strength, “You are fair. But not as strong I can see. You may become an equal in time. You seem to have a dilemma here, yes?”

  “What is your play in this?”

  “Oh, I may have an ace,” she said, and strolled in front of Dickory towards me. I allowed her to come face to face with me. She smelled of dust and rock, not pleasant but not offensive as I had imagined. She tilted her head up and breathed.

  “Then name your price,” I replied.  She tilted her head, took a step back, and began to laugh.

  “Not so fast, my darling!” she replied, and took her stance next to Dickory. He was silent and still, I couldn’t tell if he was even paying attention.

  “I’m afraid I’m out of time here, as you can see. Can you help or not?”

  “Help? Help you with what?” she asked genuinely, “My help has already been used. It is you who are in debt.”

  “So you freed me only to watch me die moments after?”

  “Die? Who needs to die, other than the chains from Hamble?” she asked, qenuinely confused. Her head then began to shake, and she smiled, “Oh Vanguard, foolish bird, give them the light! Then you and I can talk.”

  “You lunatic crane! She is a dog! What is this perverse idea?”

  She smiled even wider.

  “Ok then,” she replied, giggling a little, “Give them the dog. Crowing dove, give her up and move on! You will move on, Vanguard, you can’t help it. Drop the leash, come with me and don’t look back!”

  Diamond looked up at me.

  “What if I won’t?”

  Melda didn’t seem angry, she seemed more annoyed than anything. She didn’t expect I’d choose to die. I hoped she had a way to save us, and more than anything I hoped she wouldn’t press my claim. I still could not decide.

  “You are sure? They may still hunt you boy.”

  I didn’t respond. I did my best to hide my indecision and appear stalwart in my stand.

  “He would be happy to see this. He was a fool as well.”

  “Who?”

  Melda turned, actually bumping Dickory in her way, and whispered something into his ear I couldn’t hear. Dickory’s eyes grew large with fear. Melda turned back to me and crossed her arms in impatience.

  The albino general raised his arms to the sky once again. A few drops of rain began to fall as I heard his command.

  “The truth has been seen by Before! It has been touched! Return to the true rock! Read it! Know it! Revenge it!”

    The teeming mass of pale miners immediately howled and began to scramble away, back into the woods with alarming speed. Dickory stood before me but a second longer.

  “She curses,” he said.

  He turned and fled with the others.

  Melda and I regarded one another as the retreating noises of hundreds filled the night air. She looked at me with serious menace.

  “Ok then. Now you will tell me where you buried him.”







































                                                  Chapter 7

 











  I was a day gone, but I knew she would follow. I doubted she had even left her home yet, but my mind could almost feel her impending footsteps on my trail.

  We had fallen asleep in a somber coma of spent passion. When I woke she had left the bed and was washing dishes in the kitchen. There was no sight of her husband in the house, but I did not think she had lied about him. He did exist, or used to. I saw large, muddy boots through a crack in the bedroom’s closet door.

  I passed her through the kitchen; we never bid farewell, never even looked at one another. But we both hesitated. That was enough. What had happened between us seemed dangerous and unnamed, for different reasons. I just grabbed my pack and picked up my pace on the road towards the forest. I could still smell her hair even when the evening fire was lit amongst the tall pines that evening.

  The day was brisk, the trees swayed gently with the new autumn breeze. Game would be prevalent, but even numbers do not guarantee ease of the kill. Not since Diamond fell. Almost daily I bent to the ground and drew a circle in the dirt to commemorate my fallen comrade. She hadn’t a grave site I could visit in my mind, not after her last leap in this life, so I marked her grave on my path as I went. Never did I think about this directly; I knew to keep her with me any way I could.

  I took a moment to restring my bow, the frayed tether was bowed tight again.

  “One or two more pulls, and I think you will be left behind,” I said, addressing my old weapon, “Next town, we’ll find a brother.”

  I picked spot above a small hill. The base of the branch I sat upon was cumbersome and ached my tailbone. But the pain would fade as my concentration grew, only to emerge after success.

  “Become part of the wild. Embrace the silence. Movement is rarely necessary for a tree. Hide as a tree, not in it,” I said, relentlessly repeating Sierra’s teaching, “You’ve found a way to sore my ass still, you swift sprite, even after I left your school.”

  I became a solid block of wood, the breeze blew my hair no different than the leaves. My mind faded away, and I lived only in my ears, waiting for even the softest trace of my kill.

  Hours went by, as meaningless to me as the to the wild, and soon I heard a distant twig crack. I could see the deer in my mind completely, its weight and girth, even its sex, just by that simple noise. A buck, healthy and young, arrogantly traversing his lands.  An older deer was almost impossible to find, to reach that age it would have learned the breaking of a branch was a deathknell. Soon the buck walked its way into my sharp sights, maybe 30 yards away. Another ten and a shot would be possible. Five more and the meat was all but in my stomach.

  One step; two. The stag raised his head, ears pricked to the wind. I had made no movement, my breath was still. Sierra had even warned that a quickened heartbeat could make the difference between feast and famine. Mine was slow and steady. I heard nothing, but knew there was something else near.

  I heard the quickest whoosh whoosh whoosh from my left, followed by a wet thud. The buck collapsed immediately to the ground, a large machete sunk deep into its neck and shoulder.

  I skipped forward from the tree, landed on my feet, bow at the ready but not raised. With almost no sound of her approach, Cora emerged from the thicket in front of me, beautiful and ragged, with a smirk on her face.

  “Finish you’re sandwiches already, Traveler?” she asked, and grinned widely.



  I began to build the fire as Cora gathered some extra wood. We didn’t speak much, but we both could not help the smiles on our faces. The thought of company, especially hers, filled me with joy. Her smile could only be from a feeling of newness in a life that only knew the same.

  The fire was burning full. Cora sat across from me. As much as we both did not want to, an explanation was called for.

  “Cora. Farmgirl. Why are you…”

  “I don’t have your name. Before we start mapping this madness, at least give me that,” she interrupted.

  I smiled. “ My name is Scott Vanguard. It is a pleasure to know you.”

  “It certainly was,” she replied. She was flirting, and I could tell this woman had made a point long ago in her life not too. I had survived many dangers in my quest thus far, but I could not fight the blush of red that came across my cheeks. She giggled, “Sorry. Well Scott, that is a strong name, and one I’ve not heard before. It is a pleasure to know you as well.”

  We sat for a moment and regarded each other with excited grins stretched on our faces. I had loved before I suppose, but this felt new and old at the same time. Her beauty was illuminated by dancing flame; shadows leapt across her face. Life felt worth living again. It felt like an act, but it was only proper to give her warning.

  “Cora, words cannot say how glad I am to see you. But I need to know your intentions here, because I feel you need to be made aware of the consequences.”

  “I really don’t know why I’m here, why I followed you out my door. You came to my farm, and I feel like an ass, and you are the carrot hanging in front of me. As soon as you were there, I needed to follow.”

  “I know the feeling,” I replied, “But are you sure you should keep with me? My goal is farce to all but me, and it is a wicked path.”

  “But it must be a…a…”

  “Holy?”

  “I know not the word.”

  “Important?”

  “I suppose, but weak a word for how I feel. An important path. Your words are complete nonsense to me, but somewhere deep I think I understand the meaning behind the meaning.”

  “Interestingly put,” I said, and chucked a small log into the fire. Sparks flew briefly.

  “I-I don’t know how to explain what you woke inside of me. Do you know what made me make up my mind to leave the farm behind?”

  “What?”

  “I was sitting on the stoop outside the kitchen, trying so hard to wash you from my thoughts. But I kept thinking about that first seed you spoke about, and more importantly I thought about why no one I knew, not once, had I ever known anyone to question such a thing. But why? It seems like such a rational thing, once you step back and look at it. Why haven’t people searched for those answers in this world? As I was trying to wrap my mind around this, I saw my tabby cat walking across the outer wall of the house. There was a teacup in the grass, turned upside down. My cat, Tinkers (don’t laugh), walked by it, but then she paused. She turned her head and looked at it. For almost a minute she watched it as I watched her. And do you know what she did?”

  “What, dear?”

  “She walked over and swatted the cup so it turned over. She wasn’t interested in the cup at all. Why? For what reason? Then it hit me. It was so obvious. She simply wanted to…”

  “Find out what was underneath,” I said.

  “Yes! That was when I knew, when I thought I started to understand what you were after. I packed a bag and left without looking back.”

  I stood and began to roast the meat over the flame. Cora was waiting anxiously for my response, waiting for my approval I supposed. This was a woman who pled for no ones good measure, her vulnerability was uncomfortably clear. I sighed. I cursed myself for the truth that was fighting its way out. But I had already accepted my love for this girl. I had to protect her, even from myself.

  “Go back home, Cora. Go to your husband. You have to leave,” I said without looking at her. I expected a weak disappointed pleading in response. Not from Cora though.

  “Fuck you,” she said with direct force. I stopped and turned my head towards her.

  “What?”

  “I said Fuck…You. I respect your aim, Scott Vanguard, have respect for mine, whatever it may be. I am sure you have terrible stories to tell. A life of loneliness, yes? Thirst? Dangerous perils? I will just as soon stick you through like the hide you are working now. Whether you like it or not, I am with you. I am not yours to protect, I am yours to…to share.”

  I walked around the fire, sat beside her, and ran my fingers through her silken hair.

  “Then I am yours as well. Will you follow my lead, sweet Cora?”

  She answered with a kiss.



  We walked through the woods like teenaged lovers. We did not embarrass each other by holding hands, but we might as well have been.

  “Do you know this land, Tinkers?” I asked, grinning.

  “Excuse me?” she asked, and slapped my side.

  “Rules of the road, my dear. Nicknames are paramount to morale. You’ve already given me yours. I think it fits…with your feline sensibility.”

  “Oh, I see, my captain,” she said, “Then I suppose yours has already been picked as well, wouldn’t you say?”

  “No names for the captain, rule number two.”

  “I don’t think so, my brave leader. You must know you’re name.”

  “I do not…no no, you will address me as Supreme Minister.”

  “Ha ha, I will address you as ‘The Carrot!’” she said, and laughed boisterously.

  I laughed with her. We found each others arms and smiled at each other face to face.

  “A large carrot, then?” I asked.

  She started to undo my belt, and looked at me slyly, “Hmm, can’t remember. Let me check!”

  The trees seemed to sway in rhythm with our love-making. Afterwards we laid with each other, naked in the grass and dirt. Cora fumbled in her pack and produced a luxury I had not seen in months.

  “Fancy a smoke, my quite generous carrot?”

  “Absolutely. I thought cats liked mice?”

  “I’m a bunny in bed.”

  “You do kick your legs like one!”

  She slapped my thigh, “Now now, my captain, you must remember I am a woman! Such comments will only lead to mutiny!”

  “That’s a term for the water,” I replied, and pulled her head towards my chest where it rested peacefully.

  “Will we be traveling the sea?” She asked as lit my cigarette of her own. I sighed silently. It was the first question. Many more would follow, and despite the innocent way it was proposed, I knew I would have to soon begin the difficult task of explaining where we were going, and even harder, where I had been.

  “We may, but not soon I think. Do you know these lands?”

  “Soon we’ll be as far as I’ve gone. I’ll be on your good judgement.”

  I turned my head and kissed the top of hers. She was so blessedly intelligent. She knew the conflict in me.

  “Cora…” I started.

  “Listen Scott. I can only imagine the burden your being forced to share here. I am sorry. I say as long as the forest is ripe and we are alone, we enjoy each other. I want to squeeze every inch of you before the road gets hard. When the tread gets rocky, and I know it will, that’s when I’ll expect you to start telling me your story.”

  The sun was beginning to set; the streams of light through the trees began to bow and turn a lovely hue of orange. The wood-bugs were singing. The wind was friendly.

  “I love you Cora,” I said.

  “I love you, Scott. Oh what a blessed madness this is.”

  “You’re a dream.”

  Cora sighed deeply against my chest, then leaned forward and laughed.

  “Enough! Goddammit my kitty ears are growing long! Take me Scott, take all of me again!”



  The road became rocky sooner than I had expected. The forest abruptly ended and what we beheld was not the spectacle of empty desert or plain, but an enourmous work-force of tree-cutters that had ripped apart the wood almost a mile before us. Large, barebacked men hung by ropes and sawed away at the tall giants. They were organized and tireless it seemed. I counted sixty, give or take. We stood before the clearing and held hands. A woodsman ahead of us turned his attention towards us. He scoffed and began to walk towards us. His look of contempt began to fade as he neared the two of us. We must have looked weak and young from afar. I could tell in his eyes that Cora at my side only made me stronger. He did not address me until his pace stopped directly before us. He was middle-aged, and well worn with years of work. The wood-cutter stroked his beard.

  “Oy. How are you to be here?”

  “We are merely a pair wandering through the wood. I see you have quite a force amassed. Quite a site, you must be well backed by someone,” I said with respect.

  “Oy yeah. Everyone has a boss, even the trees! You and yah maid walk the wood then?”

  “Indeed. Beautiful it is.”

  “Yeah, we do have an accord with it, not to worry. Where you stand is the line we will not cross. The wood gives, but we would not take all, ya see well. Can’t take all, where would that leave us? Thirsty are ya? Miss?” the wood-cutter said, and unslinged his water-skin. He offered it to Cora. We had just filled ours a few hours ago at a small stream, but she accepted and drank from it with the grace of a diplomat.

  “Our thanks,” she replied, and wiped her mouth. The woodsman looked at her a moment longer, that I could understand, but he quickly remember his manners and looked back at me.

  “Welp, no questions from the likes of me. But I can’t stake for my upper. If it’s a meal you need then you will be welcomed, but Ol’ Stimey might be curious. He be my boss, miss. Come with me! I’m sure he’ll let us off an hour early for guests such as yourselves. You’ll be the joy of the force for that, huh!”

  The wood-cutter led us to a large tent amongst smaller ones in the middle of the clearing. The workers stopped their labors one by one to regard us. Any nerves that may have worried me in situations like this had long since quieted, but I worried Cora may be anxious. I looked at her, and she returned my gaze with a small smile. She was cool as stone. Despite our manly escort of workers, I was not embarrassed to take her arm as we neared the tent.

  Inside was stately enough. A few large fur rugs were cast about under a large wooden bench at which twelve or so men sat. All of whom were large and dirty. They chugged their mugs and laughed to one another. The man at the head of the table was an elderly chap, I could see his left eye was crooked and lazy. He saw us first and smiled widely, while the others turned at us.

  “Visitors to our enterprise, eh Miley?” the man at the head of the table asked.

  “A pair, yes indeed sir,” Our new friend replied, “Found them at the tree line I did. Friendly sort they are, if I may. Good company all together.”

  “Very well!” the man said, and rose, “I be Jentham Stimey, or as my brood of foresters refer to as Ol’ Stimey. Must be my age one would think. Come and sit here by me. Lima, Crowney, move yer splintered rumps and make space for our guests!”

  Both men at Stimey’s side rose and nodded their heads at us in respect. I pulled out Cora’s chair and she sat. I took my place.

  “Much obliged are we for your hospitality, good sir,” I said.

  “Think nothing of it, we are pleased to have new ‘uns around here. We been camped in the wild for going on two years. Ha, we are tired of each other’s faces!” The small crowd laughed at this and clinked mugs and drank in agreement, “What are your names?”

  “I am Scott Vanguard,” I said. There was a brief pause, the men expected me to introduce Cora as well, but I left that open to her. I knew she would appreciate making her own introduction. And also, in no small part, I let her speak her name simply because I had no knowledge of her last name.

  “And I am Cora Lynn Brook, pleased to have met you Ol’ Stimey.”

  “Oh, and I you, the two! I am having a meal brought, and some of our best ale. Perhaps once we’ve filled our guts we may have some conversation?”

  “Ol’ Stimey loves his conversations,” a woodcutter to our left said, and the others agreed with a few chuckles.

  “Yes, yes, I do get a tickle from the spoken word of strangers. No harm I promise!”

  “No harm at all, good man. No harm,” I said in a friendly tone, but added just a touch of warning to my reply. The message was received, Stimey grinned slightly and understood not to press too far.



  The meal was splendid. Racks of ribs, potatoes and cream, corn by the bowl and a sour ale to wash it down. The men we ate with laughed uproariously when Cora added a thick belch to end the meal. We were toasted by the group. We laughed and carried on with them. My eyes knew to look for any sign of something off. My instincts sniffed the air as we ate and conversed, and found no cause for alarm at all so far. Years before I would have left it at that, but I had learned never to trust a room. Never.

  As the meal came to a close, nearly half the tents occupants left after bidding their farewells. We were left to entertain five, including Ol’ Stimey with his crooked eye. He leaned forward and smiled widely in anticipation. He slapped the wooden table.

  “Ha! Yes, Scott and Cora, well! Ah, where do you hail from, if I may?” he asked, looking at me with cautious eyes. He wanted to gauge my response to see if this question was allowed. I gave him a nod. He was so excited by us.

  “Oh, from far and far, Stimey. My boots have made them a walk,” I replied. Stimey was okay to leave it at that, he immediately looked at Cora.

  “I am from the farmlands through the wood. Conchlynn.”

  “Aye, Conchlynn! I never been, but my father had. Good land, good folk, yes?”

  “Good folk,” Cora replied, “The land’s turned sour.”

  “Ah, most a pity then. Ahh…Scott, you are husband?”

  “No, just a good friend,” I replied. Stimey stamped the table and threw his head back in laughter.

  “Good! Good, Scott. Aye it is good to see such young and handsome folk as you two learning the ways of friendship together. I mean no disrespect in that notion, I cheer your companionship!”

  “I am glad for it. May I ask you a question?”

  “Oh sure!”

  “This work of yours, where do the spoils go to? Is there a village on the build nearby?”

  “Yes, three or four miles to our rear. Half the timber goes for, oh the schools and farms and homes.  The other half is carted away to make our sale.”

  “I applaud your group. I also applaud your decision to leave the woodlands at a point to their beauty. Miley told us of this.”

  “Yes, yes. We will be quite done soon with our chops, much to the pain of our marketers. But as long as I’m in charge of this job my word on the matter stands true. No cutting past the tree line we’ve set.”

  “You must love the wood,” Cora said. Her remark was both simple and clever.

  “I love it, yes. I know each brother and sister, from the pine to the oak.”

  We sat for a moment in silence while Stimey regarded us with fascination. His enjoyment was charming. I decided to indulge it.

  “I have a piece of wood in my pack I took as a souvenier. It’s kind I’ve not seen in any other place. Would you care to look?” I asked, and began rummaging in my pack.

  The elation on his face was overwhelming. The other woodcutters laughed to themselves like grown children enjoying their father’s senility.

  “Oh my, I would consider it an honor.”

  I pulled out a pieceof kindling a few inches long I’d taken from the Isle of Boreans. I had no intention of discussing its origin, but I had told the truth when I said I hadn’t seen its kind elsewhere.

  Ol’ Stimey grasped the wooden chunk that was shaped somewhat like a flute. The wood was pale,  almost white, and fully smooth although I had not whittled it at all. He brought it to his nostrils and inhaled. I knew the smell. It was hard to describe, but I had previously marveled at how the flute smelled nothing of wood. The closest relation I could find would be the faint waft of air after blowing out a wax candle. Stimey sniffed it three times, ran his wrinkled hands over its surface, and shook his head.

  “This is…” he said, not looking up. I stayed silent. Ol’ Stimey’s previous charm and elation was stifled; his concentration was like iron ore trying to solidify. What began as a small gesture of good form now started to feel like something more. I had been somewhat curious about the wood but never gave it much thought. I didn’t even know why I had saved it, it was merely a piece of kindling I had meant to burn and was lost in my pack. But I could see it was now being examined by a professional, and he was baffled. After a full five minutes of uninterrupted evaluation, Stimey carefully placed the piece on the table.

  “Scott, may I ask?” Stimey asked with caution. I considered.

  “I’m not inclined to answer that, Stimey, with respect. But if thoughts of its home can be put out of mind, could you give me your thoughts?”

  Stimey leaned back in his chair. Cora looked at me. She was confused, but was becoming aware this might mean something just as I was.

  “This is none I’ve seen before. I’ve never been such a proud coot as to think I’d seen it all, no never. But until today I’d have bet my dangling pumpers, pardon ma’am, that if you show me a tree I could at least name a sister. This un’ is no color, smell, or…ahh the word…spirit, that I’ve ever seen or touched. I can stick my tongue from asking where you found it, but you will tell me…of the tree, yes?” Stimey asked.

  “Honestly friend, the trees looked no different than the ones in this wood. I believe the leaves were a bit more narrow, but they were common. I hope I haven’t put a damper on you, Stimey. It was not my intention.”

  “May I see it?” Cora asked. She reached and delicately grasped it.

  “Scott, I am a man of the same. Wake, dress, cut. What your beauty holds may only be a small trifle, but it is more a gift to me than a chariot of gold. That I’ve even seen before,” Stimey said.

  He was starting to cross the line; I had never meant for the flute to be a gift. I tried to remind myself not to get sore over such a small thing, especially since I had attached no meaning to it. But it now seemed to be more than just a chunk of wood. I wanted to argue the notion, but held my tongue. It would’ve been beneath me.

  “Then I am glad to offer it,” I replied. Cora handed him back the wood.

  Stimey regarded me closely with his crooked eye while twiddling the flute in his hand. He considered, then slid it across the table to me.

  “No, no need to part with it. The memory has been made well enough.”

  “It is a small thing, but it reveals a big man. I thank you.”

  “But if it were my own, likely I would burn it. I would learn more of its nature watching it burn,” Stimey said while giving it one last look, “Now! Your company has been a grace! Miley can show you to your tents for the evening if you like, they are prepared by now. You are welcome to stay as long as you like, but I can see you’re a hard rod Scott, I expect you’d be on your way in the morning. I am off to bed, my best to you both! Ma’am, it does an old man’s heart well to see a lady as comely as yourself.”

  Stimey stood and shook my hand, and kissed hers. He retired to his tent. Cora and I were led to a clean hut with two cots. They were close together but not touching. I imagined whether or not pushing them all the way together might have been a difficult conundrum for the men who made the setup. Cora smiled at me.

  “That was odd,” she remarked.

  “Odd but harmless, and welcome.”

  “Was it from the island you spoke of?”

  “The wood? Yes.”

  “Odd. I’m sorry Scott, but it’s time to fill me in.”

  “I know,” I replied, “Tonight we sleep, I won’t talk of those things so near to others. Tomorrow.”

  “Okay. What are you going to do with the wood?”

  “Oh I don’t know. I say we take his advice and burn it.”



  The next day we bid farewell to the camp and made our way down the narrow dirt road that had been cut through the forest behind the wide open space where the trees had been felled. We camped off the path and I started to build the fire. Cora was gathering firewood.

  The small pyre crackled and began to breathe life. I held the wooden flute in my hand. It shamed me, but I threw it in the fire while Cora busied herself in the woods behind me.

  At first, nothing. The pale ember darkened and began to smoke. I looked to my rear to make sure Cora was not near. If she and I were going to work out as companions in this quest, I would need to learn how to include her. But I couldn’t help my selfishness. I was consumed by that irresistible feeling that this might mean something. I was a slave to that emotion, and although I felt an urgent guilt I couldn’t bring myself to share it yet. Cora expected me to tell my story, and I had made peace with sharing the past. The future was the problem.

  I heard her footsteps break a twig. She was a ways away gathering the wood. I regarded the flame. There was still nothing of note, but as my vision blurred and I consciously focused on nothing specific, I started to see the faintest glow forming in the dancing flame. It was as elusive and subtle as moonlight, but I started to see not one but two orbs beginning to materialize in front of me in the fire. As they became clearer, their hue took on a distinct color of green. I turned to see if Cora was near. Her steps were closer, but still wandering, she was not coming back just yet. I turned back to the fire, and could now see two eyes, emerald and floating, regarding me. I was frozen stiff. The eyes blinked. They were alive.



    Someone was looking at me through the fire.