The preparations were complete, his parents had outfitted Arsac with a traveling cloak, a pouch full of food, and a stout stick in case he came upon wild animals. They had spent the night telling stories, singing songs, and eating freshly roasted meats and nuts. Arsac stood by himself on the path that led into the forest facing his parents and Ison. His father had told him he was brave and strong. He didn’t feel brave but he felt proud and excited to get started. With a last farewell, Arsac shifted his pouch, tightened his cloak around himself and turned toward the trees. He walked all morning on paths that he had known since he was very young. Some were so familiar he could remember them from his mother’s back before he had learned to walk on his own.
At mid-day he stopped, sat on a log, and pulled out his lunch. He was on a hillside overlooking a small stream tumbling into the meadows below. For the past hour he had been walking through country that was new to him. Steeper, wilder, filled with trees and plants that he was unfamiliar with. The trees were taller here, their leaves broader than he was used to. He ate in silence, listening to what he could hear around him. He heard his own breathing and the beating of his heart slowing down as he rested. He could hear the stream make a cheerful burble below him as it ran over rocks and under drift-logs. He could imagine the fish hiding in shadow and eddy, but he couldn’t hear them. He could hear the leaves around him rustle slowly in the light breeze. He could see the light streaming from the sun straight above him in its mid-day position. He could imagine its path from the top of the sky, in a slow arc, down to the horizon where it would flare in color and leave the world dark until it returned in the morning.
Arsac was startled from his daydream by the sound of something moving through the trees in front of him. He squinted through the mix of light and shadow but couldn’t see anything. He stood up, shouldered his pouch and moved off the path toward the noise. If it was an animal, perhaps he could talk to it or catch it as a guide. He could hear the noise moving in front of him and occasionally he could see a bush or small tree shake from its passage. When he walked faster he got no closer to it, when he slowed down it did not get far ahead of him. After a few minutes he was far from his path and deep into a strange and wonderful forest. The trees were older here, covered with moss. Ferns grew from the ground and even from the trunks of the trees high above his head. Large leaves blocked most of the light and made it feel later in the day than it was. The air was cooler, moister and easier to breath. The trees became more widely spaced with dense leaves and needles underfoot, making it easy to walk. A feeling of lightness came over Arsac, he felt he could walk all day.
Arsac walked over the top of a small ridge and looked down into a perfect little pool. It was very nearly round, ringed evenly by large trees whose roots went visibly down into the water, drinking deeply. The ground was soft and spongy, a light mist rose from the surface of the water. Arsac knelt beside the pool to take a drink, looked into the water and felt suddenly dizzy. The water was so still that he could see a perfect reflection of himself, the trees and the circle of sky above him. Through the reflection he could look into the unnaturally deep pool. Small points of light swam before his eyes tracing lazy, irregular patterns. As he looked longer, his eyes swam out of focus and the lights became large and blurry. He looked up, shook his head and rubbed his eyes. Suddenly tired, he curled up beside the pool, knees pressed against his chest, and fell into a deep sleep.
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