The Journey Ahead: The World with No Name

By R. J. Abraham

On his way home from Training, Morse suddenly finds himself in the company of new arrivals in his world. Discovering this, he is given the task to help them find a way home back to Earth. Among the obstacles the travelers face along the way, Morse finds he has to struggle with more than he thought himself. He never thought it would come this far. Not knowing what could be wrong inside him, he holds it back and pushes forward to get these people to their rightful time and world.

• Language: English
• Publisher: WestBow Press
• Release date: Mar 20, 2017
• ISBN: 9781512775013

R. J. Abraham

R. J. Abraham was always interested in writing, having had a poem submitted in the 2006 edition of Anthology of Poetry by Young Americans, continuing to concoct new stories and characters. She lives in Missouri with her family who help make her stories come together.

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Copyright © 2017 R. J. Abraham.

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Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

ISBN: 978-1-5127-7502-0 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-5127-7503-7 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-5127-7501-3 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2017901826

WestBow Press rev. date: 03/16/2017

Contents

Morse

George

Morse

George

Morse

Grey

Morse

Harold

Grey

Morse

Periit

George

Morse

Grey

Morse

Mol

Grey

Morse

George

Periit

Morse

George

Morse

George

Harold

Morse

George

Morse

Jack

Morse

Periit

George

Mol

Morse

Grey

Periit

Harold

George

Morse

George

Morse

Brooke

Morse

Periit

George

Morse

Brooke

Morse

George

Morse

Grey

Periit

Morse

George

Morse

George

Periit

Morse

Brooke

Harold

Morse

Periit

Morse

Harold

Morse

Harold

George

Morse

Periit

Morse

George

Morse

Grey

Morse

George

Morse

George

Brooke

Morse

Periit

Morse

To Linda Abraham and all the inspiration from high school

Illustrations

•   George’s illustration of the Moon

•   George’s illustration of Mt. Drowning

•   George’s illustration of the Trading post

•   George’s illustration of the Cork-Screw Fork

•   George’s illustration of the High Desert

•   George’s illustration of the Forget-Me-Not Grave site

•   George’s illustration of the Low Lands

There once was a world.

It has no name of its own. Only a few from your world have seen it.

I can’t say I’ve seen what it truly is with my own eyes.

But I have lived it, for this world is my home.

It all begins here. My adventure. Discovering more about myself, as well as life.

Morse

7:15

I could tell this was the time because of the sunset and its brilliant colors. It had been a few years since I had even seen a full, radiant setting as this, my nose in books and hands in various projects. I stood by the river, a familiar spot near the tall cedar tree. The sound was somewhat calming, considering all that I had been through at that point. The sky dimmed further as I waited for my friend Grey.

I hadn’t seen him for three years. Before I left for Training he had asked me to see him, preceding graduation. At this point, graduation wasn’t an option. I was sure they wouldn’t let me back in after my so-called mistake.

7:30

I kept watching the colors blend in and out of the clouds. Orange, yellow, blue, pink, and everything in between splashed the sky. The heavens this side of my problems always blended with each other perfectly.

Why couldn’t I be as perfect?

I pulled at the sleeve of the jacket I made for Training, rubbing the beaded bracelet on my left wrist. I was sure to give these beads back as I said I would.

7:45

The sun soon disappeared over the edge of the far horizon of the legendary Lightning Woods, with no sign of Grey.

Where could he be?

I shifted my feet, balancing my weight on my other leg. I swayed back, being impatient. I wasn’t sure I could wait much longer. To my knowledge he always knew when somebody was there, no matter if anybody had told him or not. How he possessed this knowledge, I knew not.

I ran my fingers over my short hair, the regulated Training-style haircut. I never actually got used to the lack of hair, having it newly cut each year I was stuck in Training. I let out a huff of air, my imagination creating a reason Grey didn’t appear.

Was it possible that he was eaten by fairy tale creatures? People-eating monsters?

Throwing that thought away, I retreated from the river, and found a suitable spot to relax. Leaning straight-backed against an old tree, I turned my thoughts to Papa. How would he react, me being thrown out of Training? The reason I was placed in Training was the very same reason I was thrown out. I moaned, knowing all too well how Papa was going to react, even more so when I showed up home, late. He was going to be mad.

8:35

After much thought and lack of light, I finally decided to stay here for the night. In the woods. I would then continue on home, telling Papa my late arrival was due to the wrong turn at the Turnabout Fork past the Lilac Clearing. I was sure this would lessen the stress I knew Papa would have attained worrying about my frame of mind.

Yawning, I bedded down for the night, slouching against the tree, not wanting to face my father.

Mid-night

I opened my eyes to darkness. I can’t really say I planned to wake before the Sol had any chance to wink at me.

I couldn’t see anything for the stars didn’t cast much light through the branches of the trees. By the silence, I could tell it was only hours before daylight. If it was quiet, what had woken me?

I heard a snap behind me. Behind the tree. It crackled in my ears and soon conformed to the drone of outdoor life. Turning my head, I spotted light, a flicker of flames. Floating.

A floating flame?

Standing up I continued watching the light source sway slightly, as if it were being carried. A soft shuffling of footsteps followed the light, approaching the tree I stood under. Feeling as if I was hiding I stepped from behind the tree, and glanced toward the moving glow of what reminded me of firelight.

The mystery of it compelled me to look closer. I tried to make out the figure holding the light. Beyond the glow a quick breath escaped the life source. My curiosity grew in the dark, suspense causing me to hold my breath. I was about to take another step, feeling an explosive pain at the back of my skull.

Everything tilted, slightly at first, uprooting from the ground. The tree beside me fell away. I swear color accompanied the cry that broke through the darkness. Everything faded to black, leaving only one thought in my mind.

At least I have an actual reason for being late.

George

Week 1, Day 6

I t feels strange. Not only am I noticing that the moon has disappeared from the sky, but no one believes me. It was just last night when I looked up at the sky that I noticed only the twinkling stars staring back. I always thought of the night sky as a blanket with holes cut into it, drawn over the sun for the duration of the n ight.

I had watched the moon since I was old enough to work. The first time was really the night my athair died. He had been sick for weeks, leaving me to look after the shop, though a family friend with more responsibility continued to make shoes to supply the shop and its customers. I didn’t really like the work I had to put into it.

At this point, the moon was no longer sharing its phases, leaving me lost in wonder. Where had it gone? I somehow knew we were lost as we continued to travel onward to the Prayer Ground.

What happened only a few nights ago didn’t stop our pilgrimage to honor the dead. Highwaymen believe it is okay to demand and take from anyone. It doesn’t matter who they take from, as long as they fill their quota, whatever that may be. We had encountered these highwaymen in the light of the moon. The last time I set eyes on moon beams was a couple nights after. All they had really taken were the horses and wagons, as well as the supplies within. These bandits would have taken sheep as well, had it not been for the little village boy who watches them, yelling as if a monster had appeared out of the ground to devour him. Not that I believe in any such thing, the Lord will know.

I possibly question the fact. The moon disappearing from the dark world known as night. Could it be possible that the moon was stolen like our belongings and much needed tools?

I still ponder.

I asked Mother whether it could be probable.

Ma? Do you believe that the moon could have been stolen? Just like the wagons and horses?

Mother looked at me from her tangled fingers, progress beginning to show in her knitting. The white yarn in her hands glowed in the bright light that the fire provided. Shaking her head, she sighed at me in her usual way.

Maybe so. If it be the will of the Lord.

What if it is more than that, Ma? What if we aren’t where we think we are?

This thought is piercing my mind even now after considering the strange details of the continuing expedition. Only two days ago I had begun to take note of changes, including the absence of the moon, the hours of the day didn’t correspond with the calendar and certain trees appear to have grown bigger than anything I’d seen around this part of the world. Not that I have been anywhere other than our moderately small village.

Ma put down her knitting and glanced at me, asking a favor of me before stirring the pot that had been boiling over the burning logs, a few birds charring beside it.

George, will you find your sister? The meal is ready and it’ll soon be time for bed.

I bobbed my head at the time, standing up from my perch and straightening my kilt before I began my search. It hasn’t been terribly hard traveling after the horses were stolen, but it has slowed the progress down.

After finding Joanne, dinner was eaten in silence. I’m not much of a talker anyway. The sunlight faded completely before the meal was over and the evening prayer said. Crossing herself, Ma settled in for the night, making Joanne do the same.

Now from the remaining light of the fire and the last murmurs of prayer being passed around by the sneaky hand of the wind, I write these words along side the pictures I’ve drawn. This isn’t the first time I’ve followed everyone else to Old Willow Crest to pray for those few souls long past. Truthfully, I didn’t want to return to Athair’s grave this year as the tradition played on year after year.

With Elizabeth left behind at home, not a day goes by that I don’t think about her. I’m missing her dearly.

Morse

I didn’t know how long I’d been out. The pain in my head woke me from a strange dream. I was waiting by the river, only to find a floating light behind the trees. It reminded me of a glow-fly, shyly dancing amongst the leaves in the branches. This image faded with the realization as the headache reminded me this wasn’t a dream. What hit me?

This simple question helped me open my eyes. I could feel my head spin as I tried to focus on the tops of the trees. The world spun and the tops of the towering sticks seemed to fall toward me.

I couldn’t have helped the groan that escaped my throat as I tried to sit up. I couldn’t get past the swaying of the world as if I were in a cradle being pushed. I fell back, jolting my head just right. I let out a sob. My arms tugged at the rope I didn’t know bound my wrists and coughed out a complaint to the world. I wagged my head, catching sight of people. Moving in and out, these forms blurred as my eyes tried to focus.

Taking a breath, I closed my eyes for what I thought was briefly, falling asleep.

A giant cloaked figure stepped out from behind one of the trees. It took a couple of steps, the cloak trailing as if it were a black mist. Slowly, a finger extended past the long mist that crawled up its arm, pale compared to the white stones at the bottom of the Charmed Stream. The steps started to echo, coming closer. Everything seemed to darken and the image burned.

I felt something cold touch me.

It frightened me beyond belief; causing me to pull harder on my bonds, to yell and rise from what could have been my grave. I could feel eyes on me as I fell back to the hard ground. Murmurs dropped from lips. Murmurs I couldn’t understand. Their words were slurring together, my ears not cooperating.

The feeling of falling wasn’t so much of a feeling anymore. I groaned louder than needed, the ache not stopping. The pain was unbearable, making me feel sick. It was around this time I heard more voices, louder than murmurs and easier to identify as a language I knew nothing about. They came from the shuffling crowd that had gathered and that would soon depart.

A high voice broke above the rest, as if pleading to another. The next voice was rough, gruff, and angered. Somehow I knew the girl was coming toward me, yelling over her shoulder to the much annoyed guy. I opened my eyes again, the light suddenly blinding. I gasped in reply to the source of light, a blurry form crouching down beside me. I rolled my head over, focusing on her.

The only thing I noticed was the color of her hair and the way it tumbled down to her shoulders, matching the quiet tone of her voice.

Before my vision could fully focus I felt something cool touch my mouth. It reminded me of my nightmare, I panicked.

I heard syllables spoken, softer this time, trying to calm me. I blinked as she placed the object to my mouth once more, a liquid flowing into my throat. Water. It tasted almost dry and somewhat limey. After the first drink went down, I coughed. I looked back at her, my eyes finally focusing like they should. Her blond hair was braided in various places, partially covering her rosy cheeks. She gave me a soft smile that didn’t quite brush away the frown that was there before. I didn’t try to smile, for fear of becoming sick.

Her lips parted in words that I couldn’t understand.

I… don’t understand, my dry throat let me sputter.

She tilted her head, something dancing in her blue eyes, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you didn’t know the language.

She gave me another drink, keeping up the growing conversation.

I’m Sophia, she said, the vowels heavy with her accent.

Opening my mouth my first words of I am were lost without air; the only word not caught on my breath came out with a cough, Morse.

It didn’t sound like my name as my mind started to drift out of the dark mist that let the cloaked figure leave without a sound. I tried to sit up again which was a big mistake. I lay back down and fought the urge to vomit. So much for getting back home and making my excuse to Papa. By this time I’d be good as punished for being late, no matter if falling behind wasn’t part of the plan.

What were you doing last night? Sophia set down the cup that she held in her hand. I looked up in the air, shifting my gaze around the invisible box I must have trapped myself in. I looked at her.

I was heading home, but I had to stop for the night, I answered.

Is that it?

Her face held a questionable expression showing she didn’t completely believe me.

I was on my way home. I wasted time waiting for a friend and I decided to rest for the night and continue at daylight, I shrugged like a schoolboy with my wrists rubbing at the rope, the beads pressing into my shaking left wrist.

Are you telling the truth?

Yes.

What were you doing in the dark—?

Why am I here? I lifted my tied hands as if pleading to be set free.

Sophia gave a short shrug of her own, not telling me what she knew. This was followed by a crunch of dried grass and dust. The voice behind the stomping spoke in its own language, gruffly scattering dust and loose pebbles into my face. I couldn’t understand a thing he said. The fact is I didn’t have to. My ears only took in the anger, not the unknown vocabulary.

Sophia spun around, leaving me in my dust.

The bearded man pointed a calloused finger at me with a threatening glow in his eyes. I tried to cough out the moist dust from my throat, only to get more kicked in my face. My eyes stung, not allowing me to observe his exit from the prisoner zone. Not that I was considering myself their prisoner. By the way he accused me with his finger and harsh tone, I was the culprit.

Sophia came back down to my level, feeding the lip of a water bottle to my mouth, washing the familiar taste of dirt from the back of the throat. Then, I felt a dab upon my forehead, a wet cloth of some kind clearing away the minuscule dust particles. She rubbed softly at my eyelids, allowing me to look upon the world once more.

Don’t you worry a wit about Jack. He is blaming you for last night’s scare. He knows perfectly well it is also his fault. He knew exactly what I was doing. He knew that I wanted to be alone, Sophia continued on.

His fault? What are you inferring to as ‘his fault’? I tilted my head away from her hand, looking at her.

You were there, you should—He must have hit you harder than he said he had. Don’t you remember what happened? Her accent dropped from her lips like a shivering feather in a winter breeze.

I…as I said, I didn’t have the light to make it home, so I settled down for the night. I woke up about Mid-night and saw a floating light.

A floating light? You must mean my lantern, Sophia paused my tale.

A lantern? I asked.

You mean to tell me you’ve never seen a lantern before?

I know nothing of what you call this ‘lantern’. I saw a floating flame. It was glowing as if by an unseen force. A spirit-like being, though I didn’t see its face…

I was carrying that light. It is called a lantern. I was using it to look for herbs and spices. Anything that could help handle sickness. The only reason I was looking at night, mind you, is that I couldn’t find any in the light of day. It’s strange. It was easier to find them in darkness.

This stopped me. It was common knowledge to know that all beneficial plant life hid during the light cast by the Sol of the skies. If she knew nothing of this, could she be from another land? This posed as a clear optical clue to her background, other than the unknown language she speaks with the rest of her people.

May I ask you a question? I lifted my eyes as best I could, a headache creeping toward the front.

You may, Morse.

This surprised me, her using my name. The way she said it, the tone her accent allowed, sounded like a different name altogether.

Are you new to this region?

I watched how her expression changed as my question sunk in.

Softly, her eyes beamed in recognition of the idea. Her countenance chanced to one of horror. She glared at me, suspicion screaming out of every pore.

How…?

You just said that it was easier to find certain plants and herbs in the dark.

Your point is?

I could feel her voice rising from its seat, ready to smack me.

My point is that people from around here know that the herbs blend into the surrounding plant life in the daylight. Really, you are standing on some now.

Sophia stood up, lifting her boots. Noise came from her mouth, an echo from the darkness I was sure she would put me in.

I don’t see any, she looked at me as if I were crazy. Confusion beamed from her eyes, bleeding out.

But, it is there.

I still don’t see it, she was getting impatient.

I could help you, but, I’m a bit tied up. And this headache isn’t helping.

I stopped talking as I stared into the distant fingers of the trees. I could sense the look of amazement from Sophia burn into my face. This lasted another two minutes before Sophia thought it wise not to prod me for anything more.

The rest of the day was pretty much gone, boring into my wasted time as I sat there, feeling the sharp needle gaze that Papa would give me when I finally showed my face. If I showed my face.

A hole crumbled in my abdomen, telling me that I was empty. On top of that, having to go made me squeamish. I was tempted on yelling out my problem, but how would that help? All of this for a Mid-night stroll, just to see a floating flame. How was I to know it wasn’t the sacred flame from the old tales?

Picking out the leaves of the trees, I was met with a tall person. Actually, he was standing and I was glued to the ground. He called himself George. I only looked over him the best I could, hoping there was a way out of these ropes. Not that I thought he would help me, but did I have any other plan? No I had no plan at all.

George was lanky with lightly tanned skin from what I could guess was outdoor work. He wore the same skirt-like outfit as the mean bearded man, known as Jack, did. His hair was a dark orange-hazelnut and wavy, with facial hair to go with it. I don’t think that is a natural color of hair.

I’m George. I’ll be watching you, he said straight out, not bothering to talk in his homeland language. Why are you looking at me like that? I’m not that bad, am I?

No. It isn’t that. It’s just… you haven’t had a prisoner before have you?

Uh. Why would you say that?

Look, I need to go. As in, I need to refresh myself.

George looked at me. At my face and its lack of facial hair. I could see that he got what I meant.

I’m sorry. You’ll have to wait.

Wait! I yelled, I’m sorry, but I’ve been waiting for a while now.

This surprised him, me begging to use a natural outhouse. He must have been expecting some kind of anger-ridden maniac who goes after people in the dark.

I…well, let me see what I can do, George bumbled, turning to leave.

Sorry I yelled, I replied to his back.

George

Week 2, Day 8

I t isn’t everyday you are asked to guard someone. Namely one who likes to sneak around in the dark and scare people? Not that I believe everything I hear. Sophia and Jack came back to camp late last night, too loud for anyone to not know it was them.

I told you not to follow me. I know you are trying to help.

Sophia. Do you know what he could have done to you? What if I wasn’t there? Jack grumbled, lugging something behind him.

It wasn’t very late, compared to the hours I’m used to. It just kept bothering me how everything changed. First, the moon. Gone. The hours of the day, diminishing rapidly. None of us knew what was truly going on until Jack brought that body into camp. At first, I thought he was dead. The way Jack had dragged him gave me the idea that he killed him. Thinking this, I gave the Sign of the Cross.

Sophia’s father was just ending his meal, the fire in front of him crackling as if in conversation. I sat around the other side, my back to the argument and the dead-like body. Only then did I see him for the first time. Hands tied, mouth open, eyes closed as if he was drawing one last breath before dying. A hand twitched. Then his chest moved, signifying life. He looked strange to me. His outfit was closed, a neatly sewn cloth encasing his legs. His hair was short, shaved acutely in the back, growing longer in the front.

I couldn’t help but rub my short beard, noticing that he lacked one.

What is this? Sophia’s father glanced over the fire, not yet seeing the body I couldn’t stop staring at.

Dad. Did I not tell him not to follow me? I was just fine…!

No you weren’t. Not with this maniac lurking in the darkness. He was probably waiting for the right moment to—

To what, Jack? To kidnap me and do what he well pleases? Is that what you were going to say?

Jack fell silent as Sophia’s father walked around the blaze, seeking that someone they were speaking of. That body that lay there in the dirt. He acted as if this little picture didn’t startle him, a slight nod of the head and a twitch of an eyebrow.

What happened? he looked up from the unusual piece of art that Jack presented.

Dad, I was out gathering some more herbs with the lantern. I was nearly done when suddenly Jack jumps out of no where and knocks this wanderer out. I didn’t even notice that he was even there. This was after telling Jack that I didn’t want to be followed, Sophia described.

You think I would let you walk off in the dark without some protection after what happened? Not a chance, I followed you. If I hadn’t, something would have happened. He could…

I don’t want to hear it, Sophia then took off with the basket of herbs.

Jack took off after her, only to return with the identifiable sullen look breaking out on his face. It was the usual argument between them. It wasn’t that they couldn’t stand each other, but I like to think because it is their nature.

It wasn’t long after this that our leader directed us to one edge of the camp, depositing the unknown intruder on the ground.

Are you sure this is okay? Leaving him here? What if he…?

Don’t worry George. We’ll let him sleep here tonight and then deal with this whole thing in the daylight. We should be able to think better with rest.

Without further questioning, Jack disappeared to his corner of a campfire and Sophia’s father calmly retreated into his supper of chunky stew. And I, taking a breath to clear my mind, I took out my sketch book. This book here that I keep drawing in. But really, I want to talk to Elizabeth. It has been days since leaving the village on this pilgrimage. I’m sure soon I’ll thumb these pages to the past, to the one picture I want to be real.

My mind is crashing back through the last twenty minutes. The only thing that I need to pause at is that strange man, his hairless face and shaved head and new clothing. Who is he?

Without answers to growing questions, I had to wait out the night and most of the next day. I had nearly forgotten about our strange visitor until an explosion interrupted the peaceful early hours of the light.

Sophia! I told you no. Stay away! Jack’s voice stopped the ongoing work of gathering wood for the fires, This spy…

Ha. I doubt it. If he were a spy, he is a very bad one.

Sophia was standing over the alleged attacker, yelling at Jack. Jack went on a rampage kicking some dirt into the trapped man’s eyes. After much used words Jack stomped away like a little kid not getting his candy.

Sophia turned back to the suffering and child-like prisoner we had acquired only last night. In softer tones, she spoke…differently. Using the other language we were taught as young children she spoke to him. It was almost rare to hear this other tongue spoken.

I felt dumb just standing there and watching him lay there like a fish out of water. I dismissed myself from the scene, heading back to the pit full of ashes where Mother and Joanne were most likely sitting. They weren’t alone when I returned from my guarding shift. Ever since the Highwaymen ganged up on us, we’ve set up watches. I volunteered for early hours, so as not to deprive the others their rest. I wasn’t working as long as I should have been, but shorter shifts.

Hello, George. Have you gotten any rest since last night? A lot going on I could tell you.

Sir, there is too much going on. Not only has the moon disappeared, but the time has also. No longer is there a measurement of time that equals a day, but merely half of one, I set down my bow and the quiver of unused arrows that I take with me on watch.

None of that nonsense, George. Do you actually believe what you are saying? Mother stated plainly, making a blanket out of one of the only things that those thieves left behind.

Have you seen him this morning? Sophia’s father asked me as I sat down, taking in the faded colors of my kilt. He ignored the question of what ‘nonsense’ I was referring to.

Just now, really. Jack was running over and ended up kicking dirt in the man’s face.

I hope he doesn’t try anything else, he said.

Then maybe we should start protecting the stranger, I joked with a chuckle.

There was a pause in the conversation where Joanne asked if she could go play with the others. It wasn’t much fun for her to travel back and forth to visit Athair’s grave. Mother simply nodded, looking up to watch which way she ran.

No playing with the sheep today, Joanne. I don’t want you bothering little Joe either. I’ve heard he has a cough, she yelled for the whole camp to hear.

Sophia returned from her good deed, kissing her father on the cheek and joining Mother with her project. Our leader then gave a low sigh as if coming to a conclusion. He left his spot and beckoned me to follow, guiding me from one end of the camp to the next, finding a reasonable spot.

Would you like to take the honor of guarding that man? he asked me in privacy of a tall cedar tree.

Sir?

Will you watch that man? Not only for his protection, but ours?

But, Sir! I…

You’ve never done it? Is that it? Then it is as good a time as any to learn.

He got me there. I opened my mouth, nothing coming out as my mind took in the thought of guarding a potentially dangerous man. How are we to know what would have happened if Jack wasn’t there to stop him?

I can see that you are curious about this fellow. You might even make a friend, he smiled and winked. I couldn’t tell if he was joking or could see more of this situation than I. He took off, no doubt to see to his own duties.

Without further accord to the fact that I trapped myself into this small job I retraced my steps back through camp, only stopping in front of that figure whom I thought was dead the night before. As I introduced myself he wriggled around, looking like that dying fish once again. As it turned out, he needed to take a leak.

I was taken aback, not sure what I could do. In order for him to ‘refresh’ himself, I’d have to untie his hands. I took my leave and found Sophia’s father again, trusting that he would tell me what I wanted to hear.

George. I trust you. If you feel that you can trust him, untie his hands and let him take a leak. The worst that can happen is for him to run away right?

No Sir, the worst is somebody being killed over nothing.

Don’t worry your head. We’ve checked him and he has nothing on his person. He can’t harm you.

Without further instruction I untied his hands and let him relieve himself. I was scared to do it, standing him up and finding out that he was taller than I was. How Jack could jump him was beyond me. This man’s build was similar to mine, only smaller. He wasn’t a twig, but he wasn’t a bulky mass either.

I followed him closely to the point he stood after picking a spot.

After that I escorted him back to the edge of camp, the sheep being brought back to their make-shift stable for the evening. As I was tying his hands, which he freely offered, he commanded my attention.

I’m Morse, by the way. Thank you for trusting me enough to, uh.

Nothing to mention. I couldn’t let you explode, I tried to act confidently, his name sounding new. Never had I heard such a name in all my life. I was sure I’d never hear anything like it again.

What are those? he asked in a quiet voice, glancing toward the baying sheep.

I looked at him curiously. No longer was he the strange looking man with a shaved face, but a queer acting man, asking me what sheep were.

Those are sheep, I said plainly, taking a step back after tying the knot.

Sheep? What are they for? he sat down.

Sometimes we harvest their wool for thread to make clothing. We might even slaughter one for a meal every now and then.

This figure before me propped his back against the tree and looked back at the sheep. Then back at me. I could feel his eyes scan my clothing as I was his.

Wool. Are your clothes made of wool? he asked me like a kid.

I took a look at my kilt as if I hadn’t noticed it was hanging from my hips.

Yes. Though some are made of hides from other animals, I answered in detail as if it were an everyday question. I didn’t know whether I could trust him, but somehow I knew he would keep asking questions. He seemed to trust me to tell him the truth.

What about your clothes? What material are they made of? I asked looking at the heavy garment he wore over his shirt, the pattern on his back curious.

A variety of cottons I should say. A few skins from wild animals as well, he told me matter-of-factly.

I wanted to ask about the…article that he wore about his legs, but the easy conversation that was already going on shouldn’t have made sense.

You can sit down. I won’t run away, he held his hands forward, showing me my handy work, Why am I being kept here?

I’m not quite sure, I sat down.

I wasn’t sure why I was even talking to him. It must be that he is different. I don’t know how to react to this person, who was said to lurk in the dark and go after Sophia. I wanted to be suspicious of this character who so kindly thanked me while I was tying his hands. Jack has been wrong before, always the hot head and filled with drink.

All I did was wake up in the middle of the dark and happen to see a floating flame. I’d never known anything man-made to float all on its own. I thought it could have been a spirit or even a figment of a nightmare. How was I to know that someone could carry a flame? That shouldn’t be possible. I told Sophia about it and she looked at me like I was a mad-man. She said it was a lantern. I’ve never heard of a lantern, the guy who called himself Morse story-told