The Unsuspecting Mage - Brian S. Pratt [14]
“You’re doing fine son,” his dad would say.
“I wish you were here with me, Dad. I don’t remember all that you tried to teach me. I sure miss you.”
“You’re alive James, be happy. You’re in a bad situation but you’re making the best of it. I taught you self-reliance and I’m mighty proud of you.” His father stands there with a smile, the smile he always wore when James did something he especially liked.
With a tear in his eye James walks over to his father and gives him a hug. His father returns the hug warmly.
Crash!
Startled out of his daydream, James finds the spit that had once held his lunch burning in the fire, and his dinner running away in the mouth of what looks like a small dog. Stupid, daydreaming fool! Lurching to his feet, he races after. Running under bushes and around trees, the dog quickly out-paces him and is gone, along with his lunch.
“Damn!”
Returning to his fire, James takes his spear and looks around the clearing for more rabbits or an acceptable substitute. Nothing! His yell and the chasing of the dog must have scared everything away. No use sitting around here! Using his foot, he puts out the fire by covering it with dirt. Grabbing his backpack, he stalks off with self-deprecating recriminations running through his mind, and a fierce growl in his belly.
No more than half an hour goes by before he has found, killed and begun roasting another small animal. Not sure exactly what it is, or was, it kind of looks like a squirrel but the size of a small cat. This time he keeps his wits about him and remains alert for any scavengers who might happen by.
The aroma of roasting meat makes his stomach cramp. Impatient for the meat to be done, he removes it from the fire when it has cooked “enough.” Taking the meat to a nearby tree, he sits with his back against the trunk and proceeds to eat.
As he bites into the roasted meat, the juices run down his chin. Never has anything tasted so good. Of course, I’ve never been this hungry before in my life. Wonder what grandma would do with this if she was here? Thinking of his grandmother’s cooking brings back the feeling of homesickness.
It seemed like he had just started when the last of the meat had been stripped from the bone. He feels much better now that he has something more substantial than berries in his stomach. A nearby stream provides the opportunity to clean his hands and face, as well as a much needed drink. He also washes the blood off his “skinning” stone and places it in his backpack. More than likely, he will have need of it again.
Refreshed, he grabs his backpack and spear and sets out once more in search of Trendle. If it wasn’t for the possibility of meeting the same fate as Seth, he would be enjoying himself.
The nearby stream flows in the general direction so he decides to follow it. There is less of a chance of being turned around if he uses it as a guide. Also, it might eventually lead to civilization. Streams lead to rivers, rivers to lakes and ponds. And where there is water, there are usually people.
Berry bushes along the streambed hold numerous berries. After eating a dozen or so he gathers a number of the ripest ones and wraps them in a leaf before placing them in his backpack.
The rest of the afternoon proceeds in similar manner as the morning; forging through inhospitable undergrowth bent on barring his way at all cost, relieved only by all too infrequent clearings. He did encounter one meadow that was rather extensive boasting two fair sized pools. Both were crystal clear, and in the afternoon sun, could clearly see their bounty of dark-green fish with twin red stripes near the tail.
An hour before nightfall, the land began a more downward slope that ends at an abrupt drop. The stream flows over the drop to cascade down the uneven surface in the guise of a small waterfall only to form a small pond thirty feet below. An area to the right of the water would make an ideal campsite. With the wall of the drop at its back, and flanked by the pond on one