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9. THE ESCORT
It was early in the morning when Freegirl and her escort headed north.
The ride was tiring and boring, but onward they went as Rainbow's cabin faded in the distance. They did not want to send the horses on rapid runs, for the loads they carried, so trudged along at a slow pace.
Tyber was familiar to horseback riding— Freegirl was not. Straddling the animal’s back can be uncomfortable after many miles. The feet in the stirrups can begin to ache. To add to these challenges, Freegirl wore a pair of sandals that belonged to Rainbow’s sister. They were too tight for comfort.
Black Raisin was not a familiar creature to Freegirl. To avoid becoming stiff, the young girl would drop to the ground, remove her sandals and walk, or jog barefoot next to her mount.
Yes, the first day was slow. The listless emptiness allowed the world to open, for lots of pondering. Freegirl thought about her family. No one knew where she was—they were probably in a terrible state. Her relatives and friends knew she had left without a word, and empty handed. That was highly abnormal behavior, and they would be frightened by it.
However, they would trust in the course of life to unfold as it was meant, rather than become sick over the young girl’s disappearance. Still, they would be uneasy until they heard word of her. Freegirl was sad for the pain she was causing them.
Now was the time for Tyber to get some answers to his questions of the previous day. He said to Freegirl, while they were stopped and having lunch of freshly gathered carrots, beets, parsley, and Rainbow's corncakes, “So you live in the mountain?”
“Yes,” she answered confidently, as she sprinkled some of her corncake onto the planet—an offering of trust more food would come. “Do you know Thunderbold? He is my father. My mother is Balancea.”
“I have met them both at the Spring Meeting, but do not recall what they look like, accept that Thunderbold is a big man.”
They crunched their food while wondering. Freegirl missed her parents, but could not allow herself to feel the loss. Tyber was confused, for it seemed no one in Freegirl’s family knew where she was, and the girl was doing nothing to change it. Her desire to go to the Lore Halls was unnaturally strong, stronger than her love towards her family, it appeared.
The teens remounted and continued their ride. The sheet of rich blue sprinkled thick, fluffy, clouds onto the sky. It was a weave of undulating white on vivid blue.
Beneath, Shadow Meadow was a haven of brilliant greens—scattered with colorful wild— flowers, fruits and nuts. Mostly, the meadow was a huge valley of long green grass, but enough groves filled this enormous field to break the overall flatness. There were many places with wild roots and grains—the children kept a keen eye for gathering during their journey.
Birds flew in and out of the leaves of the various trees, crossing over the trail, and grazing the travelers, unexpectedly. Tyber’s blonde hair was tossing from the swift meadow breezes, and the waves mimicked an unruly nest. A lark came looping down from the sky and slammed into the back of his fluffy mass, making him duck.
Freegirl, who was a few feet behind him, saw the incident and let out a joyful laugh—as the stunned bird zoom back into a tree.
“That's the second time this week a bird has crashed into my head! Do you think it’s my hair?” mentioned a curious Tyber.
“It’s definitely your hair. They probably think you’re a nest,” Freegirl replied.
But, later that day, a bird rammed the girl's dark purple mass, and she was puzzled. Maybe the birds were just teasing and play with the people. Possibly they were chasing them away from their eggs. Whatever the cause, it put humor into the atmosphere and broke the monotony.
The flocks of birds of Shadow Meadow usually flew across the sky at sunrise, creating a tremendous shadow upon the morning land. But suddenly, a vibration of thundering, fluttering wings made the air tremble and trickle into the eardrums.
Out of time, zillions of birds erupted from the trees of Living Forest, and slowly bled their dark feathers across the Blue, in the still warm afternoon. It interested the riders, for the timing was peculiar. Was it an omen? They both wondered silently.
Wings whipping against the air could be heard for miles; the birds’ mark upon heaven was a brooding one, and looked like a massive, moving storm cloud.
Freegirl and Tyber watched the black form in awe. So many birds all contained within one soul, within one mind, soaring urgently through the skies, knowing without hesitation their course. They stayed in the air a small eternity, shadowing the endless grasslands with their outstretched wings.
When they reached the proximity of Mount Gold, all at once they returned and headed back to Living Forest. Their presence was definitely an omen, thought Freegirl, for it was rare to see them fly at any time—other than to honor the morning sun.
The two continued riding close to the river, which was humming on their left. Eventually, because of the large number of mosquitoes and insects near the water, they decided to ride further up the bank, so as not to be mesmerized by the constant buzzing.
The Whisper Waters was half a mile wide, though in places it narrowed to a hundred feet. Where the flow became less wide, pockets of deep pools and distinctive swimming holes dotted the river line. The gentle current of the water was always accommodating to boats, large and small. The velocity of the current was slow; moving upstream was effortless.
But travel along this river could be time consuming, it meandered so much Because of its twisting curves, Tyber and Freegirl would have to leave the river’s edge for a short while.
A pack of wolves caught the scent of horses and riders on the air, and began stalking them. Wilson and Black Raisin knew something lurked, and became very fretful. Ears perked. Nostrils flared, and snorted—and powerful necks swelled. Tyber knew the signals. He leaned over to Freegirl and said, “The wolves are on our path. It happens sometimes, when we pass through their territory. They are probably not hunting us, but there’s no sense taking a chance. Let’s run them.”
Without another word, he tapped the sides of his horse, bringing the stallion to a gallop. Black Raisin copied in fear, and the two animals charged ahead.
On either side of the horses, Freegirl and Tyber could see wolves chasing them in an orderly pattern. The grazers fled as fast as they could, barging down the narrow path, while a pack of snarling and barking canines ran—in and out of the trees lining the edge of the trail.
By and by, the wolves stopped running, and the horses eventually slowed to a trot. The children kept steadily moving, toward Save the Lake until they felt safe—then they stopped for a rest.
Sitting near the river, everyone drank the cool, quenching water. The course was wonderful for thirst, plus it contained abundant fish. Those travelers through Shadow Meadow had almost no work to do, or food to carry. Only when the they left the river’s course at the Big Bend would they need to carry water bags.
“I live near the Big Bend,” said Tyber. “It was only three months ago I left my family for Rainbow’s cottage. It will seem strange passing by and not stopping.”
“So stop for a bit,” Freegirl replied.
“It’s about fifty miles to the west, Freegirl. I thought you wanted to get to the Lore Halls.”
“Fifty miles to the west?” Freegirl’s tone radically altered. “I guess that is too far out of our way , isn’t it?”
“If you’re trip is urgent, yes it is,” said Tyber with kindness.”
Northerly the horses journeyed, slowly carrying their guests, when a loud groan came from Freegirl.
“I’ve got to get down from here,” she said, pulling Black Raisin to a halt. She'd begun getting sore on her inner thighs, where her skin was rubbing against the leather saddle. When she checked the damage, lifting the baggy leg of the trousers, she saw the skin broken, and raw. “Oww…” she complained, “I hope I heal this time.” No sooner were the words out of her mouth when she realized her folly.
Tyber looked at her and frowned. “What do you mean this time?”
Freegirl pretended like she was too preoccupied to hear him, and waddled to a nearby tree.
All Children of the Glimpse healed on the moment; it was instantaneous. What was she talking about? For that matter, who was this person Tyber was helping? She had not returned to tell her family goodbye, before leaving upon her unreal journey.
Meanwhile, Freegirl sat under a huge Camphor tree, and applied comefree salve to her sores. While soothing the irritations with the herbal remedy, she eyed the little raw lesions, and with her mind, she saw them disappear. They faded—her flesh copied the vivid mental picure in her forehead.
It took moments, and it worked! A sigh burst through her lungs, as she considered how difficult it was going to be, to keep the truth of her experiences, and her Vision to herself.
Tyber was standing quietly with the horses, when his companion returned. He watched her, but chose to ask nothing—when she innocently looked into the sky and exclaimed, “Mother Nature knows everything...” And with her arms fully extended, she breathed and waved to the world around her.
Tyber smiled. “Not far from here is a wild apple orchard. A small stream runs into the Whisper Waters, from a spring in the east. We can rest there if you like, maybe even set up camp.” Tyber spoke in a low, calming tone, and was excellent company.
Freegirl cracked a huge grin saying she was ready to stop riding for the day.
So it was, when the travelers had reached the wild apple orchard, they had covered no more than twenty miles their first day. Among the trees and the birds, they unloaded the horses and began to make base.
During the summertime on Photopia, nightly showers were abundant—soft falling waters kept the terrain green. Tyber carried a canopy, easily tied between two trees so the trekkers could stay dry if necessary. He also carried a small tent, should the winds excite the atmosphere, and whip the rains into a lashing.
The campers were enlightened within the trees of the wild apple orchard. The ground between the trunks and the branches was spacious—giving open room to lay down woven straw mats, and see the sky. Blossoming apple buds attracted bees too busy to care about humans.
While Freegirl was unrolling her mat and sleeping bag, she noticed how incredibly illuminated by bird singing the place was. As she listened, she slowly picked out the various instruments in the trees.
The entire spectrum of sound was filled with whistles and songs; and the volume was overwhelming. If the symphony in the wild apples got any more powerful, it would surely lift all listeners off the ground.
Freegirl looked at Tyber, who was momentarily transfixed, as he held his tossed sleeping bag in suspension. The two humans glanced at one another, imprisoned by the deafening chorus. No words were spoken, for indeed, words would have been an interference to the orchestra. The gleam in their eyes showed they were mesmerized by the calls.
After finishing, slowly, the unpacking of their belongings in the envelope of bird voices, Tyber went down to the river’s edge. He peeled off his cool hemp shirt, his pants, and his many adornments, and wearing his skin only, dove off a tall rock jutting into the sky—a piece of nature that looked like a bird’s beak. He knew this area near the wild orchard, like he knew his home. It was a section of his playground—Shadow Meadow being his front yard. He was grateful for the chance to be able to stop and enjoy it.
Intriguing, mysterious, and intense, Freegirl's undertaking made no sense at all.
The young woman hopped around the camp, readying for a run when she heard Tyber splash. It was early dusk, and the evening air was warm and lightly tropical. Never sticky or heavy, the summertime atmosphere was enchanting.
On impulse, she went into the river with all her clothes on. In the water, she took off her attire and washed everything, cotton and skin. Before getting out of the water, she put on the wet clothes and walked dripping in wet cotton, back to their camp. Then she took off her freshly cleaned clothes and hung them on a tree to dry.
The travelers had selected individual places for their personal care. Tyber was upstream, and Freegirl was down. The boy remained in the river refreshing himself until he sensed his companion was gone. Freegirl had dried and redressed herself in clothes given to her by Rainbow, and went for a run.
Once the girl was out of camp, the boy went to his bag to get clean clothes. Nudity was always respected. It was never embarrassing, and never flaunted. Privacy was honored and powerful.
In delicate cotton fitted close to the skin, a sharp knife attached to a thin leather strap around her waist—bare feet and a ponytail, the girl started trotting gracefully. She was a feather moving through the meadow. Across the open green, with her legs flying, and floatation her gait she ran.
The grass of Shadow Meadow grew fast and long. Freegirl stayed on a narrow path leading into unknown territory. She ran through rich and voluptuous land—brilliant greens, speckled with darker, deeper shades of green. Bushes blossomed among the wooden trunks in small groves. Lonely oak-monster trees, centuries old, punctuated the wild land. It was an enormous paradise.
The rhythm, and the cushioned grass beneath her feet squeezed her sole’s tiny bones, massaging them awaken.
At one point, the terrain under the runner made a sudden dip, as the girl bounced around a small tree, rooted to the unexpected slope. Freegirl became momentarily air born and almost lost her footing—but then, like a cat, she found her toes and feet safely back on the ground.
There was never a thought. The body knew where to go. Freegirl’s trust in Mother Nature knew the land carries the runner, as surely as the land carries the ocean; and like the ocean’s rhythmic flow, the runner also rocks.
Freegirl ran a long way. She watched everything and listened. She was relatively safe in the giant gaping wild, for Predators had plenty to eat. And if Freegirl was stalked by the hungry, she would just have to face them. Children of the Glimpse were seldom without a knife attached, somewhere on their bodies.
With every step and heartbeat, she watched. She knew where the easiest to climb trees were. She scanned the ground for spears of fallen limbs—lean branches with sharp tips for stabbing. She listened to everything—birds singing, subtle breezes, leaves moving, her footsteps. Although the chance of being stalked by wolves, or bears, or cats was uncommon, a Child’s senses were always tuned for the hunters, the Predators—the dangerous ones.
Before she knew it, she had run back into camp where Tyber sat peacefully reading.
Winded, but with no loss of breath, the runner walked around with a bounce for awhile. Eventually, she relaxed onto her sleeping bag and stretched in still postures.
The Fireye was sinking into the crack between the sky, and the land. Freegirl quietly came down from her adrenalin high with solitude and graceful body motions.
Tyber read until it was time to get a fire going. The wood he found was not Longburn—the perfect firewood that burned endlessly—for this region of the meadow had none of it. He found lots of oak, however, and set flames under the fallen wood. Making a fire was a simple task in the summer, as long as the winds were light, and not too shifty. As he created flames with his faithful piece of flint, Freegirl came out of her stretch and trance.
“Hey,” she said softly. “I’ll get water for the pot,” she offered.
“It’s full. I fetched a couple of pots while you were running,” answered the ever responsive Tyber.
Freegirl realized another degree of blessedness: her traveling partner always thought of everything. He was so experienced at meadow living, and in knowledge of this valley painted green, that without him, her beginning would have been very rough. She would not have had the freedom to run far and leave the camp comfortably open, if she had traveled alone.
She looked around her and realized Tyber had put a neat pile of wood in a stack by one of the apple trees. A water basket hung on a rope, dangling over one of the tree branches. Between two trees, Tyber had flung a tarp to hold the breezes from the campfire.
These were survival things for which Freegirl, too, had experience, but she had darted for a run too quickly to watch time. She’d momentarily forgotten her responsibilities, and time had escaped her. And here was this stranger-boy who had taken care of all the necessities. All Freegirl had to do was rest.
With hot rocks submerged for boiling the water in the basket, dried nuts and seeds as the evening’s staples—as well as Rainbow’s deer jerky—Tyber and Freegirl relaxed into the sunset.
She sincerely thanked her companion—her appreciation for all the swift preparations of the campsite reflected in her smile.
He said he would, also, have had some wild rabbit to roast, but when he had gone for a swim, he decided he needed to cross the buxom river a few more times, preferring to swim than to hunt.
The travelers had been awake since early morning, working and riding, and had not enjoyed much rest during the day. With a great run and a swim before dinner, they were fading to sleep soon.
But the easily curious Tyber—as he and Freegirl were curled in their pigskin-rolls—had to know, “What did you mean when you said, ‘I hope I heal this time’?”
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