He sang softly as he burned the last of the firewood. Sun was rising from Sea. He could no longer be sure how many days he had walked. Sea was like Sky – she looked the same everywhere. Earth was different. In the Dark Stone Valley, he had known how to number the days, as the Elders had taught him. Was Sun still rising among the Summer Peaks? Aolo lost track of the last few bites of breakfast as he thought about Sun. She was rising everywhere. In the Dark Stone Valley, at the High Rocks, and even out here, on the New Isles. Still, the Rocks and the Valley were not gone just because he could no longer see them. How was it that Sun rose there and here? Maybe, he mused, she came to different places at different times, wandering from one to the other.<br/><br/>The Elders had said this journey would doom him, and Aolo knew they were correct in a way. If there was no other True Land soon, the lack of water would take him. He had some left in one of the gourds. Already, he could feel the Dry grabbing at him with his dusty hands. A bad fellow, Dry. The water of Sea didn’t keep him away, Aolo knew. Nobody, however, had tried to stop him. Because anyone was allowed to journey. Sometimes, if folk said they would journey, they were offered a mate. Not him. He was too low for the Sitters and not good enough in the fields for the Standers.<br/><br/>He had taken to comb his hair while walking the few steps to where he had grounded the raft. Aolo’s hair was deep black, which was why the others had called him Nighthair sometimes. It was a subtle insult. His mother had been fair-haired and so had the Head at the time, Ehnaz. His father was not the Head, thus, and that made him a Stander, not a Sitter. He was not fit to be a Stander. His tongue was quick, his thoughts nimble… but he had never been able to hide his words. Long, he had thought the others didn’t think much. He had been mature already when he learned that they were simply hiding more words than he did. He had not learned to do as they did. Sometimes, a lamb did not learn to walk. It never grew up. Aolo, however, had grown up because of many good thoughts and a strong back. He did well with Forest and Earth and Sea, just not the fields. He hunted well, he had even fought well when Takers had come, because his eyes were quick, and he could make things reasonably well. Tilling the fields – that he could not do well. He did not understand why.<br/><br/>Aolo knelt on the raft and took the long staff, probing Sea with it while apologizing to her. Sea was easily angered, after all, and stronger than any human, and her friend Wind would help her if she became angry. The water was shallow here. So, Aolo began steering for the next isle he could make out maybe six hundred paces further along. It was higher than the others. He would climb up to see farther. Maybe he could still turn back if he saw no True Land. He wasn’t sure of that, however. The New Isles, even the bigger ones, were still in winter even if it was really summer. Nothing grew on them. Maybe Sea hated them and lapped them with her bitter water so that nothing could grow. Or maybe they were simply too young still. Birds sat on them, after all – that meant they could not be enemies of Sea, because birds depended on Wind and he was friend to Sea. That thought calmed Aolo as he staked towards that next island. He was not getting into a fight between Earth and Sea. He was friend to Earth, but Earth was a slow friend and could not rise quickly to help if Sea decided to hate Aolo.<br/><br/>Sun was high above him when he reached the top of the hill. Clouds and Fog hid themselves and he could see far. Joy gripped him when he saw True Land, a long line of a shore. He could even make out Sea breaking at the shore. He had been afraid of having to climb another set of High Rocks, but the coast seemed different there. Aolo blinked. He wasn’t sure, but he thought he saw smoke rise, a small smoke, like from a home fire. That meant folk… maybe they needed a maker and hunter with strong back and nimble thoughts. He supposed he could also till a field if it was the only choice he had… they would not know he was unfitting to Stand or Sit. They might have different customs, where one like he could find a place more easily.<br/><br/>As he climbed down and staked onward towards that green shore, Aolo thought about how folk there might be. Dhira the fisher had told him he had once seen a broken raft that must have come from another land. He had said it was larger than three huts and had a large cloth. Aolo had asked Dhira to show him that strange raft, but it had been gone when they had come to the High Rocks to see it the next day. Washed away by Sea, Dhira had claimed, but Aolo wasn’t sure. He could not tell if folk spoke the truth very well, but he could tell what was likely and what wasn’t. A raft so large wasn’t, because it was impossible to find enough bindings to keep the logs together.<br/><br/>Aolo’s heart swelled when he neared the shore. There were green hills, starting just a short walk away from Sea’s last waters. But what made him feel good was the sound being carried to him: laughter and voices. He could see the folk making the sounds, young ones. They looked just like himself. They had much cloth on them. At first, Aolo thought they were fishing, but he saw they were just toying with Sea’s smallest waves. That wasn’t wise of them, but children weren’t very wise in any clan, were they? It was one thing to toy with a Stream with whom one was friends, but to toy with Sea was dangerous. He wondered where their elders were, why were they not keeping watch of them? After all, dreadcat might be about, or even bear. He hoped Cat and Bear would not be attracted by the young ones. Aolo had his spear, but Cat was Wind’s child and very quick, while Bear was Earth’s estranged son and strong as all of their kin.<br/><br/>The waves became high. Aolo tried to steady the raft by shifting his weight and he sang to Sea to let him leave her, but it wasn’t long and Sea tossed him from his raft. He had to bite his tongue not to curse Sea, but he kept his things and made it to where he could stand. He had lost track of the children while he was struggling with Sea. Now he saw them again, just as he stepped on dry land. Aolo dropped his spear and smiled and raised his hands.<i>“Wolakweti! Frumaful komo. Uawet nit anghesti</i>,” he called, but in the way of children, they ran from him towards what seemed to be a path. He probably looked scary in his sodden long shirt of dew-bleached linen, his leather cap and vest and his beard. He had lost his only knife sharp enough to cut hair on the first day of the Isles Way, and that was weeks ago. He felt his hair and beard. The strangers here might think him a wild one, but that could not be helped. Aolo walked cautiously after the children, taking his spear. He was not taller than most others and he knew his strong back alone would not protect him if the strangers here were dangerous. He needed to be coiled as Snake. He wasn’t friend to Snake, but one could not only learn from friends, after all…<br/><br/><a class="username" data-user-id="1078" data-username="@Poldaran" data-xf-init="member-tooltip" href="https://blackdahliaroleplaying.com/members/1078/">@Poldaran</a>