A sense of renewal

The morning passes quickly as my walk has taken me across rolling fields of nature's bounty along the foothills of my prison. But, to look upon these bars from the outside is a different feeling altogether. In the days gone by of my youth they were no more than an adventure to one-day explore. But to the life that I had come to live, these mountains became my prison, a barrier to what was beyond.

It is the sneaky passage of time that has hemmed in my world. The glorious days of youth are carefree and playful. As time marches on and childhood fades to ages of companionship, the work of a day begins to take hold. The times spent running through potato patches are replaced by the struggles of chores that need doin'. Dreams of adventure fade to those moments that are held in the twilight of the day and then all at once, are gone. Only ones dreams then hold the promise of a far-away land. And then, even those thoughts buried within our nightly conscious are stolen away.

I look skyward as the sun falls upon my face and washes these thoughts away. I bask in the warmth of light, and thoughts of a new world now open; a world filled with all the adventures my youthful self could imagine. The line of the Sirris marches on. To what end shall they take me? I have only to place one foot in front of the other to find my way.

Direction

My morning awakens as the sun again begins its journey above the horizon. My night was wrapped in solitude as I quickly realized how alone I have been on this short journey. Only a few weeks out and I now understand the value of companionship. Though I have always lived alone, there was naught for lack of conversation, always a neighbor or friend at the ready. A casual conversation by the fire was a pleasant reminder of my life. It is, however, the reason I began this journey in the first place, as that was the substance of my life.

 I look above as the light of day is humbled by the mists that snake their way through the high passes of the Sirris. I feel the warmth of the coming day upon my shoulders and know I shall bathe in warmer nights as I move south and near the end of the Dream Valley. But for now, the mornings are alive still with a gentle embrace of cold, all the more necessary that I awake with a warm breakfast. The fire ebbs low as the small amount of fat that remains crackles in the pan above the dieing flames. My luck was with me this morning as I trained my weapon upon a hare, feeling the recoil as my arrow takes flight. As I have practiced little; luck was my aim this day.

I slide my cooking pan back into my pack and take stock of my belongings, thankful for the handful of eggs from Clarisa. They have made my breakfast complete and renewed my legs for the journey ahead. Three now have I crossed paths with, and I am the better for all. It is now that I begin to wonder not only what I shall come across in this journey, but who.

As I hike my pack upon my shoulders, my eyes follow the line of the Sirris as the mountains march toward the south. That is my direction, toward the end of their line.