~~~
Daniel lifted his head off the mat in a start. In front of him the potpourri was flaming up in an unsettling fashion and a few embers were landing all around on the mat and the dry subfloor. He quickly stamped out the fire and embers and began picking up his items he’d brought to seek some assistance. It was time and he knew what he had to do.
Rushing through the house Daniel found his heavy winter coat, some old steel-tipped work boots, a flashlight and some other items. He found his old hiking backpack that had a waterproof lining and started throwing in anything he could think would be useful on his trek. He wasn’t absolutely sure how to find the clearing with the fire but he at least knew where to start and he knew if he followed the stream he’d find there he could get to Rachel. During his rummaging he found two flashlights and threw one in the pack and held the other in his hand. He contemplated bringing a weapon, such as his gun. But he knew when it came down to it, the shaman was not going to be taken down by a bullet. The only way he could think of to fight the shaman was to confront and resist the shaman. He prayed someone would let him know what to do once he got there.
Before leaving the house Dan turned on every single light. In the back of his mind he wanted it to be a sort of beacon for his return. Once he charged through the front door to start up his truck he was surprised at just how comfortable the air and the rain felt. It seemed warmer than when he’d set up his meditation, and the steady but lighter rain was comforting too. But the darkened houses, even at 10:30, were a little unsettling. He felt there should be Christmas lights on at least some of the houses; his stark white LED strings were the only ones he could see. It was as if the season didn’t even exist and he knew that had something to do with the shaman as well.
It’s doing what I say now, he thought, knowing he meant the rain, but unaware of how or why that thought came to him. Then, mostly to reassure himself in his plan, he whispered, “You’re losing control, shaman. I hope you’re ready for a fight.”
Speak Rain Page 33