The setting sun beyond the hills had left an amber glow on the clouds. The valley below was already slowly succumbing to darkness. He sat quietly by the side of the lake, as still as the dark water with depths unknown. He had already started a small fire to keep warm in the chilly air. This wasn’t his first night in this wilderness, nor, he suspected, would it be his last. He fingered the parchment in his coat pocket, the contents of which he had committed to memory long ago; he would take this paper out of his pocket and reread it countless times a day. Once again, he took out the small piece of paper; the handwriting was elegant, with just one sentence: “Go there, Go alone. And wait.” He read it once more, then neatly folded the paper and returned it to his pocket.
“Go there, Go alone. And wait”; the sum of all the communication he had in the past few years from them. There was no mistaking the place, and the instructions to go alone were not surprising, but wait? Wait for what? For how long? Why now? Why after all these years?
This place held significance in his life, so far from civilization; it had taken him two months just to reach this lake. This wasn’t the first time he had spent time here, nor was it the first time he was without a clue as to what to expect. But still, not knowing always made him restless. Taking a pouch of tobacco from his saddle, he mentally noted the remaining quantity. He would soon run out of the supply he had brought with him; better to save it for now. He would rethink enjoying a pipe after his dinner.
Food was plentiful in this area; fish from the lake and small rabbits in the surrounding forest were easy to catch, even fruits were abundant, and the spring for drinking water was not far from the cave he used at night. Lifting his bottle to his lips, he gulped down the last remaining water. He would need to get more water before starting his dinner. Dinner today consisted of a small rabbit, and he still had some beans to accompany it. After gutting the rabbit and putting it on a spit to roast, he picked up his bottle, slung his crossbow over his shoulder, and headed out towards the spring. The forest had fully embraced the night, but his feet knew the way without the need for his eyes.
Filling up his bottle, he noticed the silence around him. Having lived a lifetime in the wilderness, he knew that to someone from the city, the forest might seem quiet, but to him, it was full of various night noises; insects, owls, small animals, even bats. A forest was more alive at night than in the daytime. But now, he could hear nothing, not even crickets. Instinctively, he crept into the shadows of the trees and tried to look in all directions at once.
There was something moving just beyond sight, deeper in the forest in front of him. He caught flickers now and then; whatever it was, it was fast, as if someone was running blindly in the dark, running without care as to where it would lead, just to escape whatever was behind it. A few more yards, and the figure stepped out into the clearing around the spring. In the moonlight, he could see that it was a man, with torn clothes, disheveled hair down to his shoulders, and a face sporting an untrimmed beard. The man’s features were buried behind layers of dust; only hollow eyes stared out of the darkness. Casting a fearful glance back at the forest, the man jumped into the spring, desperately hurrying across.
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Right at that moment, another shadow of a man hurled itself onto the first, and the two fell crashing into the spring. Then began the strangest fight he had ever seen between two men. They went at each other, tearing away, snatching; both looked the same to him, with torn clothes, long hair, unshaved, dirty faces. But now there was a glow in each man’s eye, a glow that screamed murder at the other.
Growling wordlessly, they continued fighting, hitting, throwing, kicking, even biting if they got the chance. The intensity of each man’s movements reminded him of hungry wild animals. He continued watching from his position, waiting for an outcome. Then one man managed to throw the other into the water. It was impossible to tell which was which now, the man who was running or the one who was pursuing. As soon as the man had thrown his opponent into the water, he picked up a rock and started smashing it on the head of the other. If it had been lighter, even he, from this distance, would have been able to see the color changing in the water as blood mixed into it. The man kept on smashing the rock for a while, then dropped beside the now “apparently” dead body, exhausted.
A lot of time passed before the victor moved again and climbed out of the spring on his side of the stream. It was then that he noticed it was the same man who had come out first in the clearing, the one being pursued. The man sat down heavily on the bank and began to examine his wounds; some were bleeding, and some were just scratches. There were a few teeth marks on his hands as well from where the other man had bitten him.
He still stayed in his position and observed the victor. He was still deciding whether he should approach the other man when the stranger got up and started dragging himself towards the lake. Carefully, he began to follow; slowly, not letting the other person suspect someone else was there. The stranger changed his direction towards where the cave lay hidden from unsuspecting eyes behind bushes. Reaching the bushes, he took out an envelope and held it high above his head before falling down.
One look at the envelope, and he rushed towards the stranger; his mind kindled by multiple questions. Who was the stranger? Why was he here in front of this cave? And why did he have that envelope; the envelope with that symbol, so entangled with his own life? Was this the person he was sent to wait for? Should he have helped the person before? But how could he have known?
When he reached the person, it was too late; the stranger was not breathing anymore, his hand still tightly gripping the envelope. There was no mistaking it; it was the same as he had received, the same symbol, the same texture of paper.
He forced the envelope out of the death grip, careful not to tear it. He hurriedly opened it and turned it upside down. A small piece of paper fell onto his lap. Picking it up, he noticed it was folded neatly; he unfolded it, and on it was written one single line: “Go there, Go alone. And wait.”
"Go there, Go alone. And wait"