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11. STUCK
After a night of gently rocking dreams, a blessing for Freegirl, the traveler from Mount Gold awakened early.
It was a serene morning, yet immediately she knew something was amiss. She went to relieve herself, and as she did, walked to the trees where Black Raisin and Wilson had been tied for the night.
This morning only Wilson was by the trees. Black Raisin was not. When the stallion saw Freegirl, he neighed a welcoming to her. The girl’s reaction was immediate. She called, “Oh La Wilson! Where’s Black Raisin?” Then she leaped to the river’s edge.
Not far from camp, Freegirl climbed a tall tree which had perfect limbs for a ladder. She hoped she would see the mare near the water drinking (but she knew in her heart the mare was gone) and from the ninety foot height in the tree, she might spot the horse more easily.
Meanwhile, Tyber was still deep in sleep.
Time passed. And then the sun began dripping warmth. As the young man was awakening, he could hear a deeply breathing Freegirl running into camp calling his name. He sat up with a frown, for what a way to be awakened!
“Tyber!” she rang. “Black Raisin’s gone! Black Raisin’s gone!”
Tyber rubbed his eyes and said, “What?”
Freegirl repeated, “Black Raisin’s gone…”and then she plopped on her sleeping bag and whined, “and so are my paaants!”
Tyber almost began laughing, but realization the mare was gone was not funny. He looked at Freegirl, who was wearing her large cotton shirt—but she was bare-legged. The sturdy but flexible trousers Rainbow had given her were not on her body.
“What are you talking about? Maybe she is drinking at the river,” said Tyber. Instinctively he knew differently—the horse had deserted them. “And what do you mean your pants are gone?”
And then Freegirl started to laugh. “I left them hanging in the treeee!” She wailed, though not loudly.
Tyber was entirely perplexed. He reached over to Freegirl’s backpack and handed her the bundle.
As Freegirl found her other pair of borrowed pants in which to clothe her legs, she started to unleash a swell of tears, but then instantly turned her tears into laughter.
Tyber watched her silently. He observed a smile upon her face, as she began explaining. “I thought she was drinking at the water’s edge, too, so I climbed a tree to see better and then that tree stole my pants!” She pointed toward the river with a giddy arm and started giggling again.
Tyber continued to watch her, only now his eyebrows were responding with a lift. His odd companion continued. “Well, I was midway up the tree when the branch I was standing on broke. What else could I do, except grab the branch above me and keep climbing. I was way up in the sky and could not see Black Raisin anywhere. When it was time to climb down, I realized there was a huge gap where the branch had split and fallen. And I couldn’t reach the branch below it. So I sat there feeling stuck, when suddenly I realized I could use my pants and belt like a rope. I took them off and looped the belt around the branch where I was sitting. With my pants attached, I climbed down the pant legs, and lowered myself to the next branch. Well, the next branch was about a two foot drop, and there I was, Tyber! Hanging by a pair of cotton knickers! Then I dropped, and I can tell you, my feet just barely landed safely on that branch! So, now I have no way of getting back to where my pants and belt got stuck! And I’ve only one pair of pants left! Aaaah! And no belt either!” She contracted her torso for a moment then added. “And no hooorse!”
To Tyber, the wound up girl from Mount Gold looked as if she might become hysterical. She was laughing and staying happy, but he could see, just beneath the surface, a deep frustration and anger lurking. The tension was something Freegirl knew was there, but she refused to let it burden her.
“Did you lose your knife?” asked Tyber.
“I had the knife in my teeth when I dropped!” She rolled her eyes and grinned foolishly.
“Oh, daring,” replied Tyber. “Well, you don’t need a belt for your knife, and if your spare knickers have a draw-string, you don’t need a belt for them either.”
“I’ve got scratches all over me and no pants! Rainbow gave me those pants! He gave me the belt too! And now they’re gone with the horse!” And suddenly, both children were in fits of laughter. With heads rolling backwards and teeth shining into the sky, they exalted in the natural high of the Laugh. Laughing at their own challenges they were, for what can be funnier than the self in distress?
And then Tyber became serious. “Wilson is huge. He can carry us both—although it will take twice as long—and you will be forced to handle a good percentage of our gear, on your back.”
Freegirl jumped to her feet and giddily exclaimed, “It shall be done!” She was doing everything in her power not to crack—holding her agitation from launching upon the world fangs and claws. Like a wild animal, she felt trapped, and without control over her life. Staying active and spontaneous kept her laughter alive.
Both travelers unraveled their camp, and on that early dawn of Black Raisin’s disappearance, a huge gray-white stallion could be seen making his way across a great meadow of green, two teen-agers on his back, trudging slowly under a shadow of a million birds.
Both Children had an awkward sit upon Wilson. The horse was large and unusually patient for a stallion, but a saddle, two sleeping bags, a tent, a tarp, two saddle packs full of necessities, and two young adults riding with bows and arrows was a full crowd to carry.
To balance the load, Tyber had hooked both packs over the front of the saddle, each one hanging on a wither of the steed, while Freegirl carried the soft, pigskin sleeping bags on her back. She also lugged the tent, the tarp, and her arrows, while holding both bows in one hand. The load she was bearing, by comparison, was just as heavy as the one Wilson had on his back. The arrangement was so cumbersome it was ridiculous.
Rainbow’s small saddle, the one that belonged to Black Raisin, had been set high in a tree. Tyber hoped the dew of Mother Nature would not injure the leather, before he was able to return it to Rainbow.
The ride upon the horse was uncomfortable and warm, as the travelers continued slowly. “Fussy little fusser…you Black Raisin,” Tyber muttered under his breath. He was used to riding his horse solo and used to his freedom of mobility. Sharing his space and putting such a burden on his buddy, Wilson, made him feel very restricted. Still muttering to himself he continued, “You really put a bind on things.” Trying to console himself, he added, “Well…I suppose this is just a test to see what Wilson can handle. And us…”
Freegirl sat casually behind him while he rambled on with his personal dialogue. “Ohhhh…It’s not so tough,” she said, fully aware of their new arrangement as being a tedious one. “As long as the little black girl arrives safely to Rainbow’s cottage.”
“Glad you think so,” he said, not too cheerily, but then Patience reminded him to stay calm. “At least both horses didn’t desert us.,” he added.
Wilson’s ears suddenly shot back in the direction of Tyber’s voice, as if he had understood the boy’s words. Tyber noticed this and patted him on the top of his head and declared, “Oh, I know you would never desert me, Wilson, you’re my brother.”
Freegirl thanked Tyber graciously for the assistance he was giving her.
Onward they trod, as the young girl wondered how many more obstacles there would be. Little did she know, so early in the drama, without Obstacles there is no Adventure. On all trails in life, Obstacles make the story more exciting. If no obstacles existed, the adventure could become boring, and the learning ordinary. She pictured her future and her path smooth and direct, free of Obstacles and free of Pain. She wanted it to be easy. It was only the third day after leaving Rainbow’s cabin, and they had immediately been slowed by her uncommonly stiff muscles, and now by the deserting of her transportation. Holy Skies! She still had nearly six thousand miles to travel before arriving at her destination, and the trip had already become tiring!
They had gone less than ten miles when a trembler—similar to a rattle snake but more deadly—slithered across the trail. The horse shied instantly, and quickly side-stepped. Freegirl had not been hanging on tightly, and as she was in a relaxed and overloaded position, she took a sudden slide to her left, and almost fell to the ground. The only thing that stopped her was Tyber’s alert reactions. He put his arm back and held her in place while she resituated her body. In the meantime, Wilson continued dancing.
“Easy, old buddy,” Tyber said, as Freegirl was regaining her balance. “Ssssssnakes…” hissed the boy. To these last words, his eyebrows made a sharp arch and he smiled, as if he was challenging something unseen.
Onward Wilson carried his load. The land stayed green and serene. Occasional trees dotted the way, especially when the trail meandered close to the river where a variety of shrubs, vines, and trees were rooted.
It was the middle of the afternoon and the sky was a soft blue—the sun was oozing in its own warmth. Behind them, where Mount Gold stood, the sky was hazy from the moist sea air. Little by little, the mountain was shrinking from the horizon.
By the evening of the third day, the pair had traveled less than seventy miles, indeed, behind schedule. They thought they could travel the two hundred miles in a week, but at their present rate, it was going to take them longer—much longer, Freegirl realized quietly.
“I suppose planning for a trip is absurd. No matter how well defined a trip is, one can never predict the obstacles.” Tyber was in a state of ponder, mostly talking to himself, as he and Freegirl set up their simple camp. “I should have known that silly horse would desert us.”
“Well,” encouraged Freegirl, “at least she gave us two days of help.” The girl from Mount Gold refused to let anything ruin her dream of a lifetime, and any thoughts halfhearted she kept to herself. She was going to the Lore Halls and absolutely nothing was going to get in her way.
The bags for sleeping were laid upon tightly woven straw mats. Upon the soft grass, not far from a huge, ancient oak tree, the teenagers lie. Gazing silently into the darkness, the travelers considered their private thoughts.
The waning moon upon Photopia remains voluptuous and luminous, until it becomes a long, sliver of white, drawn across the void—severing the black. Its arc drew the eyes of the gazers.
The fire was still strong but not built with Longburn. Tonight it was Freegirl’s turn to awaken and tend to the dying embers. Her stomach was full from dinner—a wild turkey meal from which Freegirl’s powerful aim with an arrow had killed. As the wild bird experienced its death throes, the huntress stilled the creature with her hands and prayed for its forgiveness.
Before eating their meal, she and Tyber had thrown a small bite into the grass, saying, “In gratitude for you, Mother, as you will bring us more.”
Near the moment of retiring, the travelers stretched and breathed and relaxed, and shifted into the magical aura of still postures. They chose not to swim or jog at this time, because they had no idea how much future walking they might have to do. The crowded ride, they knew, would have to be alleviated somehow, and walking was the obvious alternative. They limited their nightly exercise, as there would be plenty of exercise coming.
In the early hours of the morning, the sky was still dark and sleepy. While the weary ones slept, a trembler, a deadly poisonous snake, eased itself along side Tyber’s sleeping bag. So slick had it been, even Wilson had not perceived its coming. The air was warm, and the bag in which the boy dreamed was open to the elements.
The fire was getting low. Soon it would be time for Freegirl to awaken and stoke the coals.
Rolling over, Tyber flung his arm out of his covers and onto the snake’s unsuspecting back. The trembler hissed and rattled, then sank his fangs into the boy’s bicep. The youth bolted upward and yowled, as the trembler made its escape.
Both children became conscious immediately, Tyber from the pain in his arm, and Freegirl from the startling yell of her companion. They both knew what the rattling sound was, as it faded from their hearing.
“Ohhhhhh…” Tyber was moaning.
“Tyber! Are you hurt!” There was a shriek in her voice.
“It bit me,” he mumbled. “I can’t stay awake…I’m... dizzy…” The deadly poisonous effect of the trembler was almost immediate, numbing its victim and forcing the bitten one unconscious.
Freegirl never moved so fast. All Children of the Glimpse were schooled in the healing powers of herbs, in case an injured person was unable to heal themselves through their power of concentration. The venom was quickly rendering Tyber unconscious, and helplessly on a death path.
There were plenty of dried herbs in the travelers’ belongings, but Freegirl needed hot water. She had to stoke the fire, while tears were running out of her eyes. She realized how close to death her friend was.
“Tyber! Are you awake!”
He moaned but said nothing. Freegirl’s hands moved precisely, stirring the coals to ignite the flames of the campfire. The bark pieces she threw on torched into life. Then the branches blazed. Three stones were tossed into the fire’s burning fingers; but time was still needed for the hot rocks to boil the water in the basket.
In the meantime, the girl from Mount Gold put her own saliva into the teeth holes of Tyber’s upper arm, by kneeling over him and dripping the waters of her mouth into the red lesions—for indeed, the Children of the Glimpse had the healing powers of the wild animals. His arm was beginning to swell, and Freegirl was becoming frightened.
When the contents of the basket lifted into steam, she put several handfuls of jasmine leaf, dried white lettuce, and the roots of milkwort into the pot, wishing she had the ability to make the water boil with the sheer power of her mind. She told herself one day she would.
In the summertime upon Photopia, there was usually a lot of night rain. Freegirl thanked the life force of the universe for a dry season—always appreciating the gifts—for everyone knew a challenge could always be worse. A torrential downpour during this moment of urgency she did not need.
Scooping the poultice out with a wooden spatula, Freegirl put the simmering herbs onto Tyber’s wound, much too hot for his skin, but she wanted to draw the poison out before he died. If she could revive his consciousness, he could heal the bite himself, and any possible burns created from the overly hot poultice.
There was not enough time to retrieve cool water from the river to help lower Tyber’s rising fever, for the Whisper Waters shoreline was more than a thousand feet from camp, and Freegirl did not want to leave her friend.
“Please tell me it won’t end like this!” she begged life. “Please tell me it won’t end like this! Oh please, oh please, oh please!” The child was scared, but she continued applying the hot herbs to her stricken friend.
She also did a mental healing on him, using her Focus to put a light into his wound—a beam that began in the center of her stomach, and ended inside the teeth marks.
The swelling and redness of Tyber’s bite had lessened, but he was still not awakening. Instead, he was in a crimson fever. She had no choice but to rush to the river and get cold water.
Without a thought, she leaped upon Wilson’s bare back—the loyal stallion had been standing and watching the children. Hanging only to his mane, Freegirl urged the horse quickly to the stream’s edge.
As fast as she could, Freegirl returned with the early morning’s chilled water filled in leather pouches. She began to bathe her ailing partner’s head, neck, chest, and stomach with large sprinkles of the cool liquid. She also dropped several tastes between his lips.
She repeated Tyber’s name over and over into his ear. “Tyber,” she said firmly. “Tyber,” she said clearly. “Tyber,” she said once more.
Patiently and steadily, Freegirl sponged water up and down Tyber’s skin. When she could get him to part his lips a bit, she poured sparse drops of the refreshing fluid onto his tongue. Slowly he started to move. She repeated his name over, and over, and over. “Tyber, wake up! Tyber, please wake up! Tyber!”
When he grimaced from the pain, she became very enthusiastic. “Tyber!” she called. Suddenly his eyes opened. He was obviously dazed. She grabbed him from behind and rolled him onto his side with unbelievable timing, for immediately the young man vomited.
When he was done gasping and sputtering, he started to cry. He realized how close to death he had been, and how unprepared for such an exit he was.
“There is still a lot of poison in you, Tyber. Can you drink water?”
“Yes,” he whispered, and took the water bag from the girl. As soon as he could get his focus, he looked at his bicep and began to concentrate upon the wound, but it tired him immediately. “I’m so exhausted, I just want to sleep.”
“Try and swallow a little more water first. Slowly,” she added.
The boy drank but was weary, and still lying upon his side he fell asleep. Freegirl then realized how exhausted she was from being awake the whole night, and from having used her mind so intensely, she too crashed into slumber deeply.
The morning blossomed cheerfully into a new day, as Wilson stood near his people. The melancholy horse waited patiently for them to arise.
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