My body aches from the extended effort. I’m hungry and thirsty, but my fighting spirit is still there. It pushes me to keep going. Keep going! Keep going!
I reach a brook and stop by its stream to quench my thirst. Soon, I will reach the valley below, and then I’ll start to climb what I hope to be the final ridge. I can’t pinpoint my coordinates with high accuracy, but I have memorized the part of Wilderness stretching between Diana and Lucero. So far I was correct in estimating my location, and this has helped me advance faster through the difficult terrain.
I’m walking cautiously, ready to fight or flee if something attacks me unexpectedly. The Sun is already up. Most of the snow has melted. The sky has cleared up, displaying a deep, enchanting, blue color. The temperature is rising, becoming almost pleasant to bear for my battered skin. Suddenly, I see a pale shadow stirring in a thick pine ahead, on a high branch above the path I’m following. It might be a furry snake. And not a small one. I turn right and go around it, at a distance of more than twenty meters. That is a snake, all right. I see it clearly now. I could have turned into an easy meal for it, had I walked underneath that pine.
The ground is not so much covered by boulders and stones in this area. Walking is almost comfortable now, a blessing for my battered feet. About five minutes later, I reach the valley. A foamy river flows along it, crossing my path. This must be Tano. It’s wider than I thought. Wading to the other side through the cold stream is going to be dangerous. The water flows fast; the rocks underneath look slippery. I’m walking along its bank, against its stream, moving east, until I reach a point where the valley is becoming even narrower. Perhaps I’ll be able to find soon a spot where I could traverse to the other side.
About one kilometer later, I glimpse a tall spruce tree fallen across it. The thick trunk reaches all the way to the other bank. Its branches won’t make for an easy crossing, but it can be used as a bridge. I’ll be able to keep going. Then I stop. I feel a cold shiver climbing along my spine. All this looks a bit too o convenient, pretty much like a perfect trap set by an intercepting patrol. I sense danger. Better go in the opposite direction and try a different path to get across the stream.
A few moments after I begin walking the other way, I glimpse three black uniforms appearing from behind a bush near the fallen tree. I was right. It was a trap. They saw me and plan to cut off my hopes of becoming a master this year. Speed and endurance are now the only qualities that can save my skin. And my dream. I’m so close to succeeding, yet everything could be ruined in just a few minutes.
I start running west along the bank, moving now in the same direction with the river flow. The patrol officers have seen my intention and are rushing in my footsteps. I’m forbidden to raise my sword against a patrol, and they will never use weapons against me. Ultimately, they’re Aquatika masters. They are my kin and my friends. However, they would not hesitate during the test to overpower and immobilize me. Then they would deliver me back, as a failed candidate, to the closest local headquarters. They could also shoot me with tranquilizing darts if I refused to surrender peacefully.
Damn it! Well, I can damn all I want, this won’t change the mess surrounding me. Better focus on what to do next. I’m scared I’m going to fail, and the fear prevents me from thinking clearly. Let’s try a different approach. For a moment, consider you’ve already failed. Relax. It’s over, yet it’s not the end of the world. I’ve failed, but I’d like to play this game a bit longer and won’t end it without putting up a good fight. Next year, I’ll become a master. Next year. But next year sounds so far away…
I keep running on the uneven ground. My pursuers are now perhaps one hundred meters behind. One option is to wade the watercourse. It is probably about waist deep. I’m likely to slip and fall, and then I’d be dragged by the ice-cold current, with my leather garments drenched and heavy, unable to quickly get out of the stream and at immediate risk of hypothermia.
Would they follow me? I bet they would. They are rested and well-fed. Perhaps even a bit bored by the long wait and happy for the opportunity of some action. They can swim faster, better, and longer than me. Should I try to climb back the mountain and eventually scale a rock until I’m out of their reach on a platform where I could use the advantage of height to defend against them? They’d surround it and call for reinforcements. After a standoff of a few hours, I’d have to surrender.
My pursuers are getting closer. Now, they’re only about fifty or sixty meters behind. Tired and hungry, I’m no match for them in empty-hand combat. Nevertheless, I’ll keep running until I either collapse from exhaustion or they catch me. And then I see something ahead. It’s a big piece of wood, right next to the bank. An idea is blooming inside my brain. I only need to avoid getting caught for these thirty meters: the distance that separates me from the log…
I’m beyond pain, panting and ready to collapse when I reach it. The wood is partly rotten on one side, but the log should still be able to float. With my last drops of energy, I push the tree trunk into the fast current, then jump on top of it. The freezing water surrounds my thighs and waist immediately. My blood vessels shrink abruptly. Thousands of painful needles pierce my muscles. I feel paralyzed, barely able to maintain my balance on top of the improvised raft. However, my speed is reasonably high, and I’m moving away from the bank. At least I can stay relatively dry from the waist up.
My pursuers arrive at the spot where the log stood only seconds earlier, panting and with sweat running on their faces, but they can’t reach me. I’m carried by the stream, moving away with a speed of about ten kilometers per hour. The watercourse here is relatively free of boulders, and they don’t have another log or a boat to stay close. I’m stirring the improvised craft with my hands and legs towards the other bank, only ten meters away. When I reach the middle, my speed increases to perhaps twelve kilometers per hour. On this uneven ground, the patrol can’t outrun me on the shore. They can’t even keep up with me. I turn towards my pursuers, smiling, and wave them a friendly goodbye. Then I shout:
“Thank you for coming by! I’ll see you later in Lucero, as a fellow master!”
Their disappointed looks say everything. They were so close to catching me, yet, they failed.
(to be continued...)
Books by Marian C. Ghilea:
BUTTERFLY'S DREAM: https://bit.ly/2PM63uU
TIDES OF AMBER: https://bit.ly/2HfcHVB
Image source: Pixabay - https://pixabay.com/photos/creek-593146/
I reach a brook and stop by its stream to quench my thirst. Soon, I will reach the valley below, and then I’ll start to climb what I hope to be the final ridge. I can’t pinpoint my coordinates with high accuracy, but I have memorized the part of Wilderness stretching between Diana and Lucero. So far I was correct in estimating my location, and this has helped me advance faster through the difficult terrain.
I’m walking cautiously, ready to fight or flee if something attacks me unexpectedly. The Sun is already up. Most of the snow has melted. The sky has cleared up, displaying a deep, enchanting, blue color. The temperature is rising, becoming almost pleasant to bear for my battered skin. Suddenly, I see a pale shadow stirring in a thick pine ahead, on a high branch above the path I’m following. It might be a furry snake. And not a small one. I turn right and go around it, at a distance of more than twenty meters. That is a snake, all right. I see it clearly now. I could have turned into an easy meal for it, had I walked underneath that pine.
The ground is not so much covered by boulders and stones in this area. Walking is almost comfortable now, a blessing for my battered feet. About five minutes later, I reach the valley. A foamy river flows along it, crossing my path. This must be Tano. It’s wider than I thought. Wading to the other side through the cold stream is going to be dangerous. The water flows fast; the rocks underneath look slippery. I’m walking along its bank, against its stream, moving east, until I reach a point where the valley is becoming even narrower. Perhaps I’ll be able to find soon a spot where I could traverse to the other side.
About one kilometer later, I glimpse a tall spruce tree fallen across it. The thick trunk reaches all the way to the other bank. Its branches won’t make for an easy crossing, but it can be used as a bridge. I’ll be able to keep going. Then I stop. I feel a cold shiver climbing along my spine. All this looks a bit too o convenient, pretty much like a perfect trap set by an intercepting patrol. I sense danger. Better go in the opposite direction and try a different path to get across the stream.
A few moments after I begin walking the other way, I glimpse three black uniforms appearing from behind a bush near the fallen tree. I was right. It was a trap. They saw me and plan to cut off my hopes of becoming a master this year. Speed and endurance are now the only qualities that can save my skin. And my dream. I’m so close to succeeding, yet everything could be ruined in just a few minutes.
I start running west along the bank, moving now in the same direction with the river flow. The patrol officers have seen my intention and are rushing in my footsteps. I’m forbidden to raise my sword against a patrol, and they will never use weapons against me. Ultimately, they’re Aquatika masters. They are my kin and my friends. However, they would not hesitate during the test to overpower and immobilize me. Then they would deliver me back, as a failed candidate, to the closest local headquarters. They could also shoot me with tranquilizing darts if I refused to surrender peacefully.
Damn it! Well, I can damn all I want, this won’t change the mess surrounding me. Better focus on what to do next. I’m scared I’m going to fail, and the fear prevents me from thinking clearly. Let’s try a different approach. For a moment, consider you’ve already failed. Relax. It’s over, yet it’s not the end of the world. I’ve failed, but I’d like to play this game a bit longer and won’t end it without putting up a good fight. Next year, I’ll become a master. Next year. But next year sounds so far away…
I keep running on the uneven ground. My pursuers are now perhaps one hundred meters behind. One option is to wade the watercourse. It is probably about waist deep. I’m likely to slip and fall, and then I’d be dragged by the ice-cold current, with my leather garments drenched and heavy, unable to quickly get out of the stream and at immediate risk of hypothermia.
Would they follow me? I bet they would. They are rested and well-fed. Perhaps even a bit bored by the long wait and happy for the opportunity of some action. They can swim faster, better, and longer than me. Should I try to climb back the mountain and eventually scale a rock until I’m out of their reach on a platform where I could use the advantage of height to defend against them? They’d surround it and call for reinforcements. After a standoff of a few hours, I’d have to surrender.
My pursuers are getting closer. Now, they’re only about fifty or sixty meters behind. Tired and hungry, I’m no match for them in empty-hand combat. Nevertheless, I’ll keep running until I either collapse from exhaustion or they catch me. And then I see something ahead. It’s a big piece of wood, right next to the bank. An idea is blooming inside my brain. I only need to avoid getting caught for these thirty meters: the distance that separates me from the log…
I’m beyond pain, panting and ready to collapse when I reach it. The wood is partly rotten on one side, but the log should still be able to float. With my last drops of energy, I push the tree trunk into the fast current, then jump on top of it. The freezing water surrounds my thighs and waist immediately. My blood vessels shrink abruptly. Thousands of painful needles pierce my muscles. I feel paralyzed, barely able to maintain my balance on top of the improvised raft. However, my speed is reasonably high, and I’m moving away from the bank. At least I can stay relatively dry from the waist up.
My pursuers arrive at the spot where the log stood only seconds earlier, panting and with sweat running on their faces, but they can’t reach me. I’m carried by the stream, moving away with a speed of about ten kilometers per hour. The watercourse here is relatively free of boulders, and they don’t have another log or a boat to stay close. I’m stirring the improvised craft with my hands and legs towards the other bank, only ten meters away. When I reach the middle, my speed increases to perhaps twelve kilometers per hour. On this uneven ground, the patrol can’t outrun me on the shore. They can’t even keep up with me. I turn towards my pursuers, smiling, and wave them a friendly goodbye. Then I shout:
“Thank you for coming by! I’ll see you later in Lucero, as a fellow master!”
Their disappointed looks say everything. They were so close to catching me, yet, they failed.
Books by Marian C. Ghilea:
BUTTERFLY'S DREAM: https://bit.ly/2PM63uU
TIDES OF AMBER: https://bit.ly/2HfcHVB
Image source: Pixabay - https://pixabay.com/photos/creek-593146/
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