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"This is no country for old men." I swore as I stumbled down the overgrown deer path cutting through the darkened woods east of Buya. As I walked, I began to chew on a boiled soul vine, working my jaw against the stringy root. My bag, laden with gear, slammed into my side with each step, its awkward weight a reminder tethering me to reality. Trees closed in on me, but the forest was oddly silent. No birds overhead, no rustling in the underbrush. The silence urged me forward, picking up the pace as my skin prickled - was I being watched? I chanced a glance over my shoulder. Paused. Nothing but the mottled greens and browns of the woods. I took a breath, I could just make out a whiff of salt in the air. The beach was close. I had sought this place out for solitude and solace, few places offer more of that than a beach in winter, yet as the shore came into view, it felt as though someone's eyes were boring into the back of my neck. I whipped around. No one was there, but on the path rested a single black feather. It hadn't been there before, had it? My unwieldly pack was secure, no feathers had dropped from my medicine bag. With a sigh, I stooped to pick it up. As I stood, I swear I could hear the flutter of wings. I reached out to the world around me, but felt nothing out of place. "Fortune and serendipity, nothing more," I murmured, picking my way down to the shore. Something had compelled me here, and as I stood, alone amongst the turtles and shrieking gulls, a calm washed over me. This must be the place. I shrugged off my pack and set to preparing camp. I didn't need as much as I'd brought, I craved the exposure to the elements: the roaring sea, the frigid winds from the east, the tang of the salt spray on my lips. But still, I needed to afford myself a few comforts before I could meditate. I pitched a small tent and sent about preparing a fire, still gnawing on the vine of yage as I gathered stones. Again, the weight of another's gaze fell on me. A soft thud nearby forced me out of my reverie. I saw no one, but moved towards the source of the sound to discover a large piece of obsidian, jet black like the feather. As I picked it up and held it to the sun, wings fluttered behind me - too close, but the only birds were the gulls in the sky. I glared up at them as I made my way back to camp, their screeching now tethering me to reality. Stones gathered, I set them in a circle with scant dry wood and started a fire with a snap of my fingers. All the while, the screeching grew louder. I sighed and shed my cloak. As I packed it away, my eye caught the chunk of obsidian once more, so black it seemed to glow with a light of its own. As the din of the seabirds reached a fever pitch, it soothed me. I tossed it into the fire, watched it heat up, steam reaching to the heavens. Suddenly, another sound emerged, silencing the gulls. Not a boom or a shout... almost like a... "caw"? In the newfound silence, I murmured a mantra and began to dance, hurling my body around the fire, fingers raking at the sand, at my flesh, moving faster and faster until suddenly, the beach was no more. I found myself in a labyrinth, a damp catacomb long forgotten with no way out. Still, I danced on, searching for an exit to no avail. In the distance, I thought I heard a dragon roar. I pressed on, vision growing dim until suddenly, with a flash, I saw the dark eyes of an intelligent bird, its eyes like fire. The bird snapped me back to my "thread" and... I awoke on the beach, stripped to the waist and covered in angry red scratches, an opal that burned with a fire now in my hand. The fire had burnt out, but upon it perched a crow, staring at me with eyes that could peer into my very soul. I lay back against the cool wet sand, feeling a peace I'd not felt in some time, while all around me, the waves crashed, the winds raked at my skin, and overhead, the gulls still screamed. | |