Mesa Trail ch. 34
Draft 2

"The water was still low, but he knew that soon it would rush back through the channel and fill it up. He stood there not knowing exactly what he was supposed to see. He had the distinct feeling that something was missing, but what?" – from Keeper









Bunkledon was one of those who did not know where he was, he lost track as he tried to find something like a trail among the rocks that lead up along the rushing creek.  Bunkledon was one of those who did not have a compass, and even so, could he use it?  Which way was the city, exactly? On the side of one of these foothills, without being able to see out front or out back, how could you tell, all started to look the same, very quiet, except for the stream itself, rushing, rushing along violently, which, for anybody who has ever been in the presence of a wild rushing stream, it is not comforting when you are lost.  He lost his footing several times, and wished he had better boots to grip, the water much colder than he thought, and part of his left foot had sumberged under the water and was now cold.  It had started to rain and the splatter over the leaves of the trees and in through the thick thick spines of the ponderosas was loud, it was not comforting any longer.

Cellphones didn't like being in between mountains much either. No reception.  Plus, who was he going to call, exactly? He wasn't hurt, not yet anyway, he thought.  "Hey I'm up here somewhere, not sure, looking for gold?" No, I don't think so, he thought.  Keep going, that's all you really got to do.  Somewhere soon, you might find those kids along the side of their hill, maybe they would help. Maybe.  He walked up along the rocky precipice until he reached one last flat mark then straight up, straight up the side of a hill that was surrounded on either side by large cliffs.  This was uncharted territory for Bunkledon.  When he was young, he and his brother might climb the one, single, enormous rock at Rocky Arbor Park.  There was a trail up that one too and it stopped at a flat point where you could look out over the lake.  So serene, so easy, you could see people walking along a well carved trail snaking along the forest canopy toward the great Ishnala Restaurant where they used to go for early dinner after a nice walk through the woods.

The rain had soaked him now to his undershirt.  No hat either. No water. Back here in this shady portion of the ravine which led to who knows where it had gotten many degrees cooler, he knew that.  He sat, pulled his shirt up closer around the back of his neck. As he sat there, starting to shiver -- shivering starts so subtly, no slow, so deep -- he realized he thought he saw something move up and over from the ridge on the other side from where he sat.  He looked again, quickly, at then it stood, and blended in just like another rock, big, almost no color at all right now as the clouds had taken ahold of the sky. But then it looked to move again.  What was it going to be? A rock, something else?

Besides the rushing of the creek and the small falls, and the eery silence of the ravine, he had a hard time keeping it all straight, what was what?  Finally, the large figure began distinctly to move back and forth at the very top of that ridge.  He would pause for a moment looking out over the horizon, then as quickly pace back in toward the mountain, then point again to the end of the cliff.  A pointer?  It was a bear, at least that much Bunkledon knew, but since he was already in the middle of what felt like so many perils it didn't seem to scare him as much as it might otherwise.  In fact, there was some kind of very unusual comfort. What, exactly, was that? He had never felt comfortable in the woods before, and now, to a bear?  He rose up, a little wobbly on his low cut feet, then moved toward the only decent looking path in that direction.  He might go and see what the bear had to show him.