Trees uprooted all around him, several of which fell onto the road. To his horror, the raging fires blanketed most of the fallen trunks now set on the path before him.
The wind continued to rage, tossing blazing trees around like a game of pinball, sliding them from one edge of the road to the other. Kirk held his grip as tightly as possible to ensure he didn’t get tossed, too. Even though the boulder absorbed most of the wind’s force, he knew letting go would’ve been fatal. He had to wait for the onslaught to finish.
A few burning trees flew over his head, while another slammed against the opposite side of the boulder. He planted his feet firmly into the ground, pressing hard against the rock to guarantee his steadfastness.
When the wind finally slowed and the trees stopped skidding along the dirt, Kirk got to his feet and breathed again. Only, his heart couldn’t relax—a fallen tree had blocked his path, stretching from shoulder to shoulder with no room to maneuver around it.
There had been many close calls on this expedition since he’d left his garden sanctuary, but each seemed more harrowing than the one before it. The traveler who had offered him the chart months ago, a man who had sought after the same treasure, told him of the burdens that lade the road. Kirk had taken the warning to heart when he set off for the journey, fresh from the greasy tavern in the last valley, but he had quickly forgotten what the message meant when his focus wavered off course.
Kirk realized, as he ducked a few rogue sparks, that, in his plunge toward the unknown, he had dreamed only of the imagined troubles—the things swirling in his head. He had never expected to have to pass through actual fire, or face the brunt of the Storm. The reality of the natural war around him made his desire for the treasure all the more intense.
He climbed to the top of the rock to evaluate the path ahead. To his disappointment, he discovered that many felled and burning trees clogged the road. Some spanned the length of the road, making only the shoulder dangerous, while others lay diagonally or horizontally across the road, making passage through just about impossible. If there were ever a time to turn back, this was it. But, as he looked to the path behind, he discovered that additional trees had already blocked him in.
In spite of the wind’s onslaught, the map, though soaked with water, was still legible. He triple-checked the possibility of an alternative way out, but the map made it clear that the red line was the only way. He stared down the road again. It seemed hopeless.
Regardless, he had to press on, fire or no fire. Staying put would undoubtedly kill him.
It took him a few moments to muster his strength. Once he felt ready to brave the flame, he jumped off the rock and hurtled over the first burning tree. As his trajectory sent him over the trunk, the isolated blaze nearly scorched his legs. But he landed safely on the ground, rolling to absorb the shock to his feet. When he stood again, he brushed the mud off his body.
Then he considered the mud and realized the potential it had in blanketing him from the heat. He dove back onto the soggy road and rolled around until he was caked in it. Then he got to his feet and took a running start toward his next obstacle, hoping he had made the right decision.
The tree ahead failed to challenge him, as it clung primarily to the road’s shoulder. Only the loose branches fanning halfway across the trail posed any sense of barricade. Feeling the comfort to catch his breath, he jogged past the treetop to face his next challenge.
The next one, however, was not as forgiving as the one before it. This tree trunk hung low, diagonally over the road, and stretched from the right-hand forest edge to the interior left. Its branch mass was so thick that the trunk couldn’t lie flat. The not-quite horizontal angle left just enough of space for Kirk to crawl through.
The flames from the trunk almost singed his back, but he made it through unharmed. The next tree stood straight, and the following was leaning but had not fallen completely over. Much of the journey through the forest toyed with his senses, alternating from no challenge to strong enough to grit his teeth. But the last one he faced was by far the meanest of them all.
It clung tightly to the ground, leaving no room to maneuver around it—he could neither swerve to the side nor pass underneath. It spanned a length from deep within the left part of the forest to an equal space inside the right. Its trunk was thick, perhaps the thickest of both sides of road, sporting a diameter of about ten feet. Tangling branches covered it from its top down to its roots. The fire consumed everything it was, licking the rain-soaked sky above. By sights, it was impassable. Kirk fell to his knees in despair.
Is there nothing treacherous along this path? he wondered. Have I traveled for months just for this? So many roads were safe and secure; so many have provided wines and women; so many have offered riches and entertainment. Why didn’t I just take one of those and be done with this?
At that moment, something chirped in the sky. He looked up and spotted a small white bird flying through the pouring rain over the burning logs. As it extended its wings against the intensity of the Storm, it glided, calmly out of sight, down the road beyond the forest.
He was suddenly intoxicated in thought. For his entire journey he had kept his eyes on the road—as he thought he was supposed to—unaware that his guidance could come from elsewhere. Now with wisdom catching him from above, he knew that if a tiny bird could forge ahead, then perhaps there was still a way for him to reach his destination, too.
He sat on the road until he understood. He knew he couldn’t fly like a bird, but he still understood the wisdom attained from the bird. The solution wasn’t that the bird could fly; the solution was that the bird was equipped with the resources necessary to overcome its obstacles.
With all the troubles he had dealt with inside the forest, Kirk had almost forgotten that he was hauling a knapsack on his back. It wasn’t quite as bulky as the packs he had seen other travelers wearing, but it was still large enough to carry his essentials, like food, a canteen, and a blanket. When he remembered he had it, he removed it from his shoulders and unzipped it open. The first thing he found was his blanket.
He pulled the thick woolen sheet from his sack and wrapped it around his mud-caked body. From the combination of the rain outside and Kirk’s insulated shoulders inside, the blanket turned fireproof.
After covering everything but his hands and face, he slid his map into the knapsack and zipped the bag shut. This time he was ready to traverse the final obstacle the forest had to offer—or what he hoped was the last blockade.
He tossed the pack over the fiery trunk as hard as he could. The elements of the Storm were too loud for him to hear any thuds hitting the ground, but it didn’t matter; the bag had reached the right trajectory, so he knew it had gone to the other side. Now he had to figure out how best to reunite with the bag.
The fire raged at its worst, its ferocity increasing every second. The rain could no longer control it, nor could it stop it; it vaporized on contact with this reckless animal. As he caught sight of the inferno rising, Kirk knew he had a fight ahead of him.
With every tiptoe he took nearer to the fallen tree, he felt the vengeance of the Storm’s assault persecuting him. Sparks splattered off the clustered branches. With evasive maneuvering, however, he sidestepped each one. Burning twigs crackled and popped. Embers fell before him. But he pushed forward. Each footprint he left behind snuffed out tiny flames in the mud.
But, no move stopped the heat from intensifying. The closer he got, the more he wanted to turn back.
When he outstretched his hand to take hold of the first branch, he snapped it back—the very shock of heat nearly sent him running. He examined the situation a second time to ensure that he understood how best to overcome it. He really had no clue.
The thickest branches were also the longest, and presented him with the greatest challenge. Although they offered him the best support for climbing over the trunk, they also had the most fire for him to surpass. The smaller branches, the ones like twigs, were nothing mor
e than kindling, and there was no way he could climb them without breaking them, and odds were high he’d still get burned.
As he examined the tree further, he noticed another type of branch adhering to his liking. Where thick wooden arms had once grown, broken stumps were now stuck to various spots around the trunk. Not so much branches anymore, they jutted from its thick body like foot-wide pegs. Even though some were ablaze like the rest of the tree, most remained safe. The biggest problem he saw with them was their massive diameters. He wasn’t sure how he’d get a handhold across their tops. But he had to try. He didn’t have much of an alternative choice. Kirk hacked his way through the loose tangles to reach the closest unconsumed stump he could find.
The first peg was sturdy enough to hold his weight, so it became clear to him that this plan could work, as long as he could reach the others as easily. As he hoisted himself up to reach the next, he felt the pain of intense heat eating up his body. He had no time to wipe away the sweat. Like climbing a ladder, he reached for the next protrusion and then the next until he finally met with a burning one. Then he had to stop and think.
At this point, there was no reason to jump back down, so he buried his free hand inside his blanket and grabbed the fire with the wool. As he made contact, he wrenched the stump until he rubbed the fire out. When the danger was clear, he reached for the next one.
The fire was strongest at the top of the tree. By the time he reached the upper branches, he kicked his feet into the flame and stood on the firm horizontal trunk. Although the blaze danced around him as he found his balance, his wet blanket shielded him from the burn.
It was a beautiful thing, he thought, to stand above the Storm’s worst soldier. But the breathing conditions were unbearable. Thanks to the adrenaline he was feeling since his trek through the forest began, he hadn’t noticed how hard it was for him to breathe. Until now. The smoke was thick and black. His lungs burned not only from exhaustion, but from poor air quality. As he stood at the top of the trunk’s surface, he realized he was wheezing. If he stayed put, he would undoubtedly suffocate.
As he crouched into the fire, he looked into the sky to receive a face full of rain. The feeling of cold water against tormenting heat was bittersweet. But he would not savor the dichotomy of pain. He sprang from the trunk and shot over the remaining branches to the other side and landed on the muddy surface of the road next to his knapsack, rolling through a huge puddle of water that quenched the small fires in his blanket and washed some of the grit off his body.
As he plucked his nose out of the puddle, he looked up to see, to his relief, that the road ahead was finally clear of the forest’s anger. Now he would have a chance to breathe.
Part Three
“The Canyon”
Time demanded a small chunk of his life before he could finally reach the edge of the forest. A short distance into a fresh clearing, he found the beginning of the Canyon Deep, a place that stretched farther than the eye could see. At first, he considered it a milestone to emerge safely from the wrath of the forest, but with a beat, he changed his mind. The valley, as he had expected, was flooded.
Now he wasn’t sure what to do.
According to the map, only one path led beyond the canyon—one that went far below the surface of the floodwaters. Though he could see faintly the outlines of trees peeking through the haze on the opposite bank, he couldn’t determine where the path restarted. For all he knew, the straight line ahead would lead him miles off course, even if he could hold to a straight line on such choppy waters.
If he had the ability to even cross the water.
He contemplated performing a breaststroke to the other side and bypass the road completely, a strenuous effort, he knew, but possible to achieve. But the distance was too far. Without a boat or piece of driftwood to carry him, he was stuck.
Like his mind’s tired old clockwork, he pondered over the possibility of turning back. Not that he wanted to waste his many previous steps, but his exhaustion was paramount. He wanted an easier solution, and he wasn’t sure where to find it.
He sat on a rock beside the valley’s edge. If there were anything he could attain in this hour, it was time to think.
Waiting here for the death of the Storm seemed like the best choice for his situation. The valley would drain and he could continue along the soggy path; if only the downpour would stop. Unfortunately, the Storm had raged for so long that waiting for it to pass would’ve been like waiting for the arrival of Judgment Day. He vibrated his lips from discouragement. There had to be another way.
Kirk checked his knapsack for resources. Nothing worked for him. His blanket was drenched. His canteen was too small to drain the valley. He certainly didn’t have enough food to plump him into a sizeable floatation device. Even his trusty map was too thin to support his weight. The knapsack itself was the only thing capable of ferrying him across, and that was based solely on a guess.
He decided to test its buoyancy.
When he set the bag in the water, his heart sank. The knapsack, his dear companion since the beginning, also sank, a whole foot to the bottom. Now he was out of options.
He reached into the shallow water and fished the bag out. After that, he didn’t know what else to do. Even after his successful navigation of the forest, he had drawn himself empty of ideas.
More time passed. The pressure to move ate at his soul. Treasure was waiting to be found, and he was sitting here moping over his failure. Surely, braver men had reached the goal. For him to lose his bearings now, he didn’t deserve to be called a man, much less a brave man. It was a burden he refused to keep. He had to find a boat.
It was unlikely he would find one at the edge of a canyon, but he searched for one anyway. He scoured a mile-wide radius for anything, anything at all resembling a water vessel. After an hour, though, it proved a fruitless endeavor.
Now desperate for any means of success, he returned to the road, ready to do what he feared since coming to this shore. He readied his bag for the great swim. Although his natural buoyancy was so far untested, he believed he could make himself and his bag floatable, so he dumped everything into the mud and went to work.
He took his shoes off first. Without the extra weight on his feet, he thought he could kick a little more smoothly. Next, he wrapped his shoes and his loose items in the blanket. Once everything folded snuggly together, he restored the blanket to the bag, hoping it would center the bag’s weight.
Once he closed the sack and gripped it to his chest, Kirk prepared to swim across the valley, hoping for the strength to reach the other shore. The last time he had tried swimming, he made it a mile before clutching to his floatation device for survival, and nearly puked when he returned to land. This rainborn mini-sea was at least three miles wide. His stomach churned in anticipation of the nausea awaiting him.
With nothing left to keep him at bay, he stepped into the shallows of the water. There would be no turning back. The valley ahead was little more than a wide-open field, so there were no trees or rocks above the waterline for him to grab onto along the way. All he could do was to swim the distance. He took a breath. This would be no simple feat.
When the water reached his chest, he heard the loud crack of thunder burst behind him. At first, he flinched. He remembered once learning about the dangers of swimming in a body of water during a thunderstorm. His first impulse was to race back for the shore he had just departed. But he pushed forward. Then he heard the rumblings of an unearthly growl. Something terrible was happening behind him. He thrashed a wide arc from where he stood, turning to face the horror he was trying to escape.
Three trees were cracking at their bases. Within moments, the first toppled over and came within a few feet of crushing him. Gallons of water splashed hard in his face and much of it got into his nose. Before he could recover from the sudden deluge, the second fell, knocking the first away with a hard splash. The third tree plunged a beat later, creating such a wave that it pushed Kirk clear underwa
ter.
When he resurfaced, he discovered the first tree floating away. He lunged for it and latched onto its nearest branch to hitch a ride.
A few hours later, after a long steady rhythm of him paddling the bark-covered vessel, Kirk and the tree landed at the other side of the canyon. From there, he shouldered his knapsack and climbed off the branch into the shallow water. It didn’t take long for him to fall to his knees and kiss the ground.
Part Four
“The Cottage”
When he looked up to estimate the trials he would face ahead of here, he noticed a small cottage along the side of the road. It hugged the edge of a hill and had a pillar of smoke scattering into the rain from the chimney. Slowly, but excitedly, he crawled toward the front door and knocked. A bearded man, probably in his thirties, answered the door.
“Ah, another traveler,” he said, with his hand extended close to Kirk’s chin. “Perhaps, you are here for a rest?”
“Yes,” said Kirk, dropping to the ground. “Most certainly yes.”
The owner of the cottage lifted Kirk to his feet and helped him inside. He guided him to a small couch in the middle of the room. Kirk fell onto the closest cushion and passed out as soon as his head hit the pillow.
When he awoke, he noticed the Owner sitting at a table with a few other travelers. Each visitor had a refreshed look on his face. Plates full of food from turkey to cauliflower sat before them. There was also an empty chair waiting for a body to join, and a full plate sitting in front of it.
“Hey there,” said the Owner. “I see you are awake. Come join us for the feast.”
Kirk had no reason to argue. He was starving.
After spending the next hour talking and eating with the Owner and the travelers, Kirk despaired. The time came when everyone’s plate emptied, and each had to prepare for the journey ahead. Kirk refilled his canteen. The others refilled theirs. The Owner put together a basket of rations for each to carry. When everyone had his gear in order, the Owner sent each on his way with one important word to remember.
Waterfall Junction and The Narrow Bridge Page 3