Chapter 9.
The old simian lay quietly in the back of the shelter, adjusting his position from time to time. There were no fresh, green branches this far away from their homeland, so he was now forced to lay animal hides over what was left of his old nest and then lay on top of them. As his bony old frame settled into the nest, sharp protrusions found ways to irritate him. So soon, he already missed the comforts of his jungle home. Beside his bed sat the ‘darkness.’ It emitted a faint blue light which illuminated the wrinkles in his hairy old face. He moved his hand off it slowly, almost reluctantly, then watched as the familiar glow faded into darkness.
What Evander had offered his son was unexpected. Pa had expected that Evander would continue with his son what he had done from the beginning . . . conversing from time to time as they had done even before Amon’s birth. But for Amon to leave? He had never even considered the idea.
Evander had never spoken much about himself or his home world. Theirs had been a teacher-pupil relationship. Pa had been curious about Evander’s background. But most importantly, Evander and the others from his world had been there to help him cope with his new-found self-awareness, and to prepare him and his mate for the arrival of their son.
“My son is indeed wise!” Pa thought to himself.
“The trials of his young life have prepared him well. He has endured more than should be required of anyone, and still he strives to rise above and persevere.
“Now that he knows the man Evander, the bounds of knowledge he may acquire are limitless. And he is fearless.”
He remembered how frightened he was the first time the ‘darkness’ had come to him. Now, after so many years, the memory of that first contact had become less intense.
“I am feeling old now. More so every day. It is good that the ‘darkness’ will be left in good hands when I am gone. I wonder how soon that will be. I feel all right most of the time as long as I can keep moving. But when I stop, it is more and more difficult to get started again. The only thing that really bothers me is this useless stump!” He slapped the calloused club on the ground beside him.
“I know that my son will wait until I am gone before he leaves this place. He does not want me to have to fend for myself if he departs before me, whether in death or otherwise.
“Also, his new mate draws him. Mahrom is young and beautiful in his eyes. But I know, having witnessed his first loss, that he has become distant, withdrawn into himself. I wonder, what it is that troubles him? It is said that with wisdom comes responsibility. Perhaps that is it. Perhaps he is more concerned for the welfare of his loved ones than he is for himself. That is a heavy burden.”
Absently he scratched the stump, distracting the persistent itch which nagged him every waking hour. His eyelids grew heavy as he remembered his mate; how she had first appeared, walking out from behind that tree as if materializing from a dream; the memory of their first touch; the memory of the birth of their son; the memory of her silhouette in moonlight.