Crumbling Towers 2

I’ll never know what might have been my fate that day, had a raven not landed close to my head at that moment of indecision. It tilted its head to peer at me from a branch just above. I stood perfectly still, happy to see a sign of life other than trees. The wind buffeted it and it hugged close to the branch, head down, eye still upon me. Or so I felt. Then it darted off into the forest. Without hesitation I followed.  My only reaction at that moment was not to lose connection with the only sentient being I perceived in that world.

Stumbling in among the dimly discernable trees, I no longer saw even a glimmer of the lights I have first spotted. Against the deep grays and blacks of the forest, I continued to spot the bird’s movements, barely discernable,  from tree to tree, deeper and deeper. As I stumbled and picked my way forward, it flitted on and on, landing on branch after branch, then stepping from foot to foot, turning to face me, dipping its head and peering as if to invite me on. Or I read it as that. Maybe I just wanted to give myself a good reason to be penetrating deeper and deeper into this unknown forest in a strange land. One thing was sure – the wind was less severe in here than on the beach.            

 I picked my way onward, gingerly, yet rushing as much as I could to keep up with my guide. Was he a guide? I was becoming aware that I could barely feel my feet now, except if I kicked them against roots or fallen branches, in which case I could feel them quite sharply and painfully. Mostly, though, the floor of the forest was relatively soft, with spongy needles and fallen twigs. I thought I crossed a path of packed down dirt once or twice but this did not interest me. I was following my  raven the best I could. It landed often; the woods were thick. 

Then I was climbing, first at a slight incline, then steeply. I saw my raven land above me and with one last scramble to catch up, I found myself on a narrow ridge. The dark transitioned, opening out so that now I looked down on treetops. Once again I could see a few lights through the trees below. I heard more clearly the sounds of music, and now voices, too. The rush of the wind carried the sounds up to me, as it also struck wildly at the trees along the ridge. I sat down to take stock and diminish the wind slightly among low shrubs. 

“Not too quiet, are we? Not all that concerned about what or who might hear you passing through the woods?” The man’s voice, though low, carried over the wind, close at hand. I turned with a start. A hooded, caped figure leaned casually against the tree at my side. My raven then flew off, joining several others, in the direction of what seemed to be an encampment below.  

I couldn’t imagine how I could have been loud in my bare feet, especially with the wind roaring through the trees. I said, a bit miffed, “Not as quiet as you, surely, sneaking up on people like that!”

The man  then shouted with laughter.  

A voice from below called out, “Vadi, who are you playing with in the woods? Come down and help or I’ll spit you over the fire to take the place of whatever this is Boldo brought in. What is this, Boldo? It’s got fur. That’s about all I can tell about it!” Voices, both men and women, laughed then, exchanging more banter, less discernable from our high place.  

“Now’s your chance, Little Rabbit. Do you bolt or do you join us?” the caped man said more seriously. Would he let me run, anyway? I looked up, trying to see him and judge his character, but his face was mostly shadowed. I did not respond immediately. The light mist I’d felt on the beach was becoming a drizzle, carried directly onto me in this unsheltered position on the ridge. I had been fairly protected under the roof created within the forest. I scooted back under the shelter of the closest trees behind me and, reaching under my shirt, tried to feel, again, what might be in my bag. Anything sharp, per chance? How strong were my reflexes? I had been leading a sedentary life and grown soft in my academic world, knowing the ins and outs of books and philosophies, not the human mind in the wild. One thing I was fairly sure of  – I would sleep more warmly among these people, whoever they were, than I would out in the open on my own. 

“Come,” Vadi said, more softly now, but I could not read his tone. Was it commanding or assuring? He reached out a hand to me. “Our warm fire and whatever food is being mustered together down there can surely serve you better than whatever you might have stored under that shirt.” Even without light, I could feel his eyes studying my thin clothing and bare feet with curiosity. His were encased in sturdy boots – even in the dim light I could see these and his heavy cap outlined against the darker trees behind him. He held a thick staff in one hand. A large bag hung over his shoulder. I was amazed I had not heard those large boots approaching, for he was a big man, not slight, nor very broad either - but he looked pretty big from where I sat.

I quickly pulled out my hand. Could he see so well in the dark? I thought I’d been subtle. What was this man? A mage? A smile crept onto my lips, despite the danger of my circumstance. Taking a deep breath, I reached for his hand and stood. What else could I do? If he meant to harm me, certainly he could do so. At least I could be gracious, in case his intentions were honorable. And besides, by now delectable smells were wafting up to us on our knoll.

Ru the Wanderer

(to be continued…)