Welcome to my seemingly endless journey.
A trip that will take you to places I might have visited many moons ago.
It´s a tale that came back to me when I meditated on one of my past lives. A life I told you about in my unbelievable true story.
As promised in that story I will now share this story with you.
Chapter 17
There on my knees at the shore, I find my first bit of rest while I wash the mud and the clotted blood residue off my face. I look at the rising sun, she spreads a brilliant pink light in an awakening blue sky. I allow myself some time to enjoy the scene.
It doesn´t last, I startle when I hear the crack of a branch. Would they have found me already, would my trail have been so easy to trace?
It seems impossible. Crouching, with my gaze fixed on the place where the sound came from, I sit and wait for what is to come.
For many heartbeats I remain crouched, every muscle in my body tensed to spring into action at the slightest movement. It remains suspiciously quiet, spying out of the corner of my eye I look at the surroundings, while not losing sight of the place of the sound.
A few steps to my right sits a thick tree trunk, probably once washed ashore. It provides good cover if I can reach it. I cannot detect any movement or sound through the dense forest cover.
I take my chance, staying low to the ground I move to the tree. I hole up behind it and take a deep breath before I dare to turn my head carefully to look over the edge of the tree at the place in the forest where I hear the sound before.
It is eerily silent and I'm beginning to suspect that it must be an animal that scares the hell out of me. In addition, it has been a rough night, my body and mind have become quite exhausted due to the continuous effort.
It is quite possible that the fatigue and tension make me slightly paranoid. Still, I think it prudent to err on the side of caution and take my hunches seriously, no matter how paranoid. It can't hurt to be extra careful.
I decide to investigate the place where I think I heard the sound.
It is a small clearing in the bushes, but big enough to hide a sizable boar. There is animal excrement on the spot and a faint footprint here and there, but there is something strange around the edge.
As I drop to my knees to get a better look at the place, I hear rustling above my head. When I look up, two large black birds fly toward the sun. A beautiful sight, which makes it clear to me that the strange print, which resembles a human heel, is probably something else.
If a human has been here, the birds would have flown away much earlier. After a deep sigh of relief, I decide it's time to find a place where I can rest safely.
I unfold my map and determine my possible position based on the mountain wall and the bending of the river. The next village is at least another twelve days' journey, but half a day away on the other side of the river is the place the men call Drake's Point.
A rocky piece of land with many steep points that rise out of nowhere on the mountainside along the shore. The story goes that in the morning when the sun rises from the right peak, you can see the fire of the dragon. If you are lucky, you will see the dragon itself. He lives on a ledge in the wall and when he wakes up in the morning, he shows a tongue of fire for minutes to anyone who dares to go near him.
Staying true to my totem animal, I decide that dragon must be a safe place. After all, my totem dragon has helped me so far.
The young men who come back with this story were laughed at by many. The general opinion in the village is that dragons are mythical beasts, unseen for many centuries, and appearing only in the lore told during cold winter nights.
Ever since I was a little boy, I doubted this, especially when my totem animal turned out to be a dragon. Our knowledge of the world is so limited that the chance that dragons exist seems greater than that they don't exist. I have never been able to completely let go of that idea and secretly I hope to see a dragon one day.
Downstream I find some edible roots, I dig up some and wash them in the river. After my breakfast, I set out again, constantly looking for a place that will allow me to make the crossing.
The farther I go downstream, the closer the forest draws to the water's edge. Until the trees and especially their roots stand in the bed of the river. Scrambling over the growing roots, I continue the path I have chosen.
From a high carrot, I take a good look at the surroundings. This is made impossible from the ground by the tangle of branches and roots. The view is beautiful: dark green foliage spans the entire river, and the roots rise like giant arms out of the water. Then, further up ahead, I see a tree standing in the middle of the river. It seems impossible to me, but it stands there anyway.
It is magnificent, a majestic giant of the forest, rising from the water to the sky. Its leaves filter the sunlight, creating a beautiful shimmer on the water at the base of the tree. The island is barely larger than the trunk of the tree and must have been created over time by washed-up silt.
I have no option but to meet it.
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