an excerpt from the Journal of Krish
The sun is at noon and we needed to eat and to rest for a few moments. As much as we felt the urgency of the day, we had no choice. We were exhausted and needed a few moments before continuing. My thoughts are confused, the words, coming slowly.
The sickness of last evening has faded into an ache in my heart. I felt the death of Carnac very deeply, probably more so then most. I have no doubt all our friends are feeling the lost of Carnac today. Sam was still silently weeping, even as she sat on a log, chewing a piece of the dried stag we had packed before setting out for home last night.
Walking under the stars with a full moon is enjoyable and we have done that often over the years. But last night, with each step, the pain settled into out hearts. We stopped and rested for awhile before the dawn. Then, like every morning since we had joined the elders in the Grove, we sang to the sunrise. My vision was clouded by the gathering darkness, a mist of confusion settled into my thoughts.
If we could continue this pace, we could be to the river by the bay within four days, maybe less. We had traveled far already, much quicker then I had anticipated. The day was turning very warm, the breeze from the south a steady flow of the last rays of summer. Yesterday, I could have skipped down across the valley. Today, the weight of life and death has slowed my pace.
Sam stood ready. It is time to put away quill and ink. Time to fold up my thoughts. I am not sure I want to go home, even after being away this time for almost four years, I still am not ready for that again. The sense of urgency Sam and I felt would gather all of us again at Wenona. I was not even sure if I was ready for that.
I was sure of one thing. We had to go home, to honor Carnac's life, by honoring his death.
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