The Chronicles of Amon book 2 The Sea of Marmara

  Chapter 5.

  The sun was coming up now. He could feel it’s warmth on his cheek. It was soothing, not like the biting cold that had greeted him for so many days of late. A welcome change. He took a deep, calming breath and looked up at his new mate. A thin smile came upon him as he gazed at her smiling face. No words passed between them.

  He wrapped the fire stones back in their protective hide strip, then thrust them and his hands deep into his pockets. Mahrohm sat down beside him, snuggled close and slid one hand into his pocket. He caressed her small hand in his own and squeezed it gently.

  Before him in the gray dawn, the direction they had come hung in bleak clarity. He gazed into that now-familiar distance, a seemingly unending line of steep, jagged peaks, flanked on the left by greenery forming a nearly impenetrable barrier that stretched for miles back into the distance. Hiding beyond that, a narrow strip of land, lush and inviting, meandered along the base of the huge escarpment. Bows from myriad trees dipped low, shaded a narrow ribbon of water only a few yards wide. A seeming paradise, beckoning him, calling him back to happier times. There. Only a few weeks sojourn and it would again be his for the taking.

  “No!” he thought to himself. “My thoughts must be of what lies ahead, not on what has gone before. Evander said it would be like this. I would miss the old places, the old ways. . . .” His memories blurred, bringing him back to the present.

  To the west of the mountain range, for as far as the eye could see, stretched a seemingly endless rolling gray desert. It was into this barren vastness that many of his brethren had wandered, never to be seen again.

  Ahead of them to the north, what were once far-ranging forests, had in this age withered to scrub brush and spindly green plants barely clinging to life on the mile-thick tundra. Still farther north, extending clear to the pole, a gigantic mantle of snow and ice covered everything. It formed a barrier that would not be penetrated for generations to come.

  Their trek had been difficult. It had strained each of them close to their breaking points, some of them beyond. A few families had chosen to take their chances in the desert rather than risk crossing the vast rock falls that separated forests from the high tundra. A few families, overwhelmed by the difficulties which they knew awaited them, had chosen to reverse course, to return to the familiarity of the homelands they had left behind.

  As the sun rose, so did the clan. As was their custom, they gathered around the fire pit, each greeting Amon and Mahrom as they arrived. Cooking pots were brought out and the days first meal was prepared.

  Broc was the first to bring up the subject that was on everyone’s mind.

  “Amon, will this be the day we turn to the east? You said it would be soon.”

  “I have wondered the same thing, my brother. Our travels have become more difficult by the day. We still await the return of our scouts from the north.” (Amon remembered the instructions Evander had given him: “Go north until you can go no more. You will know when it is the right time.”)

  Nahm was next to speak. “We have done as you say for all this time. We have travelled far. We have seen much hardship. Some of us have not survived,” he blurted out, then immediately regretted what he had said. He knew Amon still suffered the loss of his first mate. He knew everyone in the clan had suffered when the earthquake came . . . but Amon most of all.

  “I am sorry, my brother. I should not have. . . .”

  “Be not concerned, my friend.” Amon forced an uneasy smile as he spoke. “She was not the first. There was Sef’s mother. There were those who chose to risk the desert rather than continue with us to the north. Some have even returned to their homelands. We know nothing of their fates. Even Sef, who we all know would rather have stayed with us, chose to go with his father.”

  “We know that it is not always your desire to continue.” Broc knew that Amon consulted with Evander frequently, but had sworn not to reveal the existence of the ‘darkness’ to the others.

  “Might it not be of benefit to send scouts to the east and west, like those we have sent before us to the north? We could then remain here until they return, informing us of what challenges lie before us.”

  Nahm took Broc’s words as a cue.

  “Yes. Let us remain encamped here for a few more days, until the scouts return.”

  Amon realized that the clan was growing tired and impatient from their continuous exertions. He weighed Evander’s instructions against the desires of his friends. He knew that Evander had faith in his ability to make good decisions. However, it was becoming evident that the clan might begin loosing faith in him, should he insist that they continue immediately.

  “This is wisdom, my brothers. I thank you for your advise. We will do as you say, then. We will not send replacements northward. After a day, those who are already out will know to return. Instead, we will begin scouting to the east and west. We will do so for two days in each direction, and then consider what new information they bring to us.”

  There then arose a discernible easing of tension in the conversation. Broc and Nahm both seemed satisfied with the decision and redirected their conversations to others who were gathered around the cook fires.

  Mahrohm snuggled closer, squeezing Amon’s hand as she looked up into his eyes.

  “You are wise, my mate.” she smiled as she spoke. “I . . . WE are fortunate to have you as our leader.”

  After the meal was finished, they set about selecting scouting teams. Provisions were collected and packed, and the first teams were bid farewell as they departed.