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20. THE RAVENS
Life had forward motion once again.
The morning was faintly shaded by drifting clouds and resonating rainbows. Fingers of scattered color spotted the terrain and the trees—and the rainbows reflected in the sparkling river. The hues streaking colors and shooting out of the sky made Freegirl think of Rainbow—Tyber’s friend, and the silly horse Black Raisin.
Suddenly the girl burst out laughing, for the picture exploded into her thoughts of her long pants hanging—a high branch dangling her belt over the river. It seemed ages ago she'd been stuck in that tree, and she realized how ridiculous the whole affair had been. A deserting horse. What a thought.
Naturally, happy Elfen laughed with her, although he never asked her what was so funny.
The Mona Fidelity drifted north upon the Whisper Waters, aided by the winds of a perfect blow. Elfen guessed they were about one hundred and fifty miles from the notorious tunnel, the Re-Legion. He also noted more clouds than usual dotted the sky.
“Have you ever been to the Re-Legion, Elfen?” asked Freegirl.
“Once, twenty years ago, I, with my comrade traveled two days inside the cavern. We could tell how many days had passed because, thankfully, cracks in the ceiling allow enough light to see the dimness.
"Well, at one section of the river, the cavern became terribly dark, no light at all, so we lit our torches. As soon as they would spark, a strange force would blow them out. Well, there is no breeze in the tunnel, but every time we relit the flames, the fires would be stifled.
"The further we went into the cavern, the less we could see. Finally, we decided something dangerous was watching us, we could feel the presence of another…another what I don’t know, and it was hindering us. So we left the way we came.”
“What do you suppose it was?” asked Freegirl innocently, with widened eyes. “What if it happens again? What it we can’t see where we’re going?” Freegirl was slowly returning to her natural state of apprehension—the intensity no one understood—when the sunlight was attacked by a battering of blackness.
The twitching darkness swooped upon the relaxed folks, sitting in the boat. They spontaneously ducked and covered their heads and faces with their arms, for the onslaught.
“Squaaaak!” They were ravens, about fifty of them, big, plump and excited—coming at the people and the Mona Fidelity.
“Imaaagine it!” responded Elfen, with his face contorted, hollering. “What in the Mother is this!”
Freegirl watched the madness through her arms protecting, while ducking her head from the aggressive birds. The creatures did not bite, or claw, or peck to draw blood, but they sure did slam their bodies into the Children.
The birds continued relentlessly—squawking and colliding into the travelers, until Elfen ordered, “Get below deck! I’ll be there soon!”
Freegirl dove into the safety of the cabin, while Elfen swiftly anchored the rig—then rushed with his hands over his head, into the cabin behind Freegirl.
The people stayed out of the way, sealed from the crazy ravens—sitting nervously below deck. While listening to the attack on board—of birds screeching and throwing their bodies—they breathed and waited.
Elfen hadn’t had enough time to lower the masts and was extremely concerned for his sails.
The two waited an eternity of moments when, unexpectedly the commotion stopped.
The captain peeked his head out of the door— fearing what he would find—and as he suspected, he saw sails tattered and maimed with holes, and slit into shreds. Before ascending onto the deck, he looked back into the cabin at Freegirl, who was watching him, and reading his responses intently.
She immediately lurched—slid passed the Rower of the Rivers quickly, climbed to the door and poked her head out to have a look.
When she comprehended the situation, she screamed, “Ahhhh! When is this going to stop! Agonies-alive! When is this going to stop!”
She sprang to the deck before Elfen could breathe a word, and with fists attacking the atmosphere, she shouted, “I curse you! Drive you to the fires! Scald you in your guts!” She swirled, yelling at the atmosphere.
In all his born days, Elfen had never seen such an acute reaction in a human—a snarling anger, a visible torment, and a misery distorting her face and voice.
He vaulted up the ladder and grabbed the younger one in his arms, and with the force of a mountain he held her still.
“It’s fine, child, it’s fine. The boat can still travel…the boat can still travel.”
The exasperated child relinquished what was left of her hysteria and started to cry, as the elder folded his hands around her head and placed her cheek against his heart, where his long silver-white beard lie. Soothing the frantic girl, he continued to reassure her, “I can still get us there.”
As soon as Elfen saw his passenger composed, and the sky free of birds, he put his will firmly to the oars. This time he would get all the way through the Re-Legion. These reoccurring Obstacles would not stop him. He had the strength of a bull and the determination of a mountain lion. Who needed sails anyway?
Elfen was so energized by all that was happening—a strange passenger, his first boat wreck in twenty years, and a bizarre attack of ravens—while under the rising of the full moon he rowed and rowed, and rowed.
They did not call him the Rower of the Rivers for nothing. He had handled ships on the raging coastal seas, after all—he was not going to let a bunch of birds and tattered sails kill his enthusiasm for water adventure! There was a beautiful river beneath him that barely hindered, making upstream travel almost as easy as downstreaml. No bird, no log, no anything had the power to stifle the determined oars of Elfen!
And on through the night, the little oar-man paddled a mighty oar. The moon was nearing full—he did not waste fats for torches. The sailors would need fire for the interior of the Re-Legion.
In the steady calm of the bright indigo night, Elfen contemplated the immediate future. There would be no fresh air or sunshine for almost a month, once in the tunnel. However, there was plenty of dried food aboard the vessel. If the two travelers could row straight from beginning to end with minimal breaks, they could get through the dreaded cavern in a week. But considering the stress of his passenger—and all the bizarre obstacles—speed was not likely.
His thoughts were beginning to confuse him, so he left the oars to the Stars.
Although Elfen was a very wise human, he was typical in believing he had to understood the whole plan by himself—had to sketch ideas in his head, then arrange them securely into place—create a mental diagram of life, over which he believed he had control.
But the truth of life is when stress lies in the hands of time—when effort is allowed to flow with rhythm—all events come together with very little thought or plan. This Elfen knew.
In the deep dawn before the rising of the Fireye, Elfen anchored the Mona Fidelity and fell into a heavy sleep.
The sun peeked over the treetops and sprinkled Freegirl’s face with heat—awakening her to the morning, as she lie under the sky, snoozed upon the deck.
It was early, and Elfen had a mind as weighty as a rock—so deep into sleep was he.
Freegirl arose alone and ate breakfast, and after relieving herself in the can in the cabin, she began where her skipper had finished. She lifted the anchor, while her muscular arms turned the chain, then descended the ladder into the oarseat, and picked up the oars.
She would not be defeated again. Her outburst of the day before had been shocking, even to her. That was the end of crazy behavior. Let the menacing birds come—she would kill them one by one with a powerful swing of an oar. It was time to move.
She saw the enormous trees surrounding her, and with an understanding that highlighted her face, she breathed.
Stay rooted and watch these things pass.
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