Chapter 2, Part 4

The Dark Forest

Clemsy sat straight up, breathing hard while the bark echoed and faded.

Or was it only in his mind?

He hadn't been asleep long; the fire was still fairly high. A pine branch hissed and popped. He looked down at Runt, curled up next to where Clemsy's head had been. Purring, Runt looked back at him with a soft chirp. There was no other sound.

He'd left the last settlement behind the day after that nasty downpour. That was the worst of his journey so far. He'd had enough time to build a shelter and get a fire started, and he'd even managed to find a spot where the canopy was thick enough to keep it going, but the drops that came through were the size of a fist. Sidetrack stayed fairly dry up against the trunk of a grandfather pine, but was still moody and miserable. A drenched and bedraggled Runt had run into the shelter complaining as if he hadn't really signed on for this adventure and what was it all about any? Clemsy told him he could have stayed home. Runt ignored him and started cleaning himself.

The night had turned much colder and the drops diminished and stopped even though the rain continued. Dang, Clemsy had thought. He knew what he'd wake up to if he could ever get to sleep: the rattling and snapping of ice covered branches up above and a road far too slippery for man or beast. Fortunately the sky had cleared, the temperature rose to where it should have been for early November and he was on his way, muddy though the road was, by midday. He was through the stockade gate of Fort Hamilton and fast asleep in the Inn well before sunset.

The following day had taken him beyond the border of The Territories and into the Wild. The road had diminished then disappeared beyond the ford of a wide river. The supplies he'd bought at the settlement would last him some time, but he wasn't worried about running out of food. There would be enough forage for Sidetrack here and there. Runt would take care of himself wherever they were and, as a child, old Mujekeewis had taught Clemsy how to get by in the forest no matter the weather or season. He'd met the Abo on the border of the field at sunrise once a week and, as he grew older, would spend days learning the Abo way. Of course his teacher despaired of teaching Clemsy how to track and stalk. The entire forest was always aware of Clemsy's presence, and didn't seem to care. He wasn't much of a threat.

Those lessons ended when he'd turned twelve. Pa and Mujekeewis seemed to believe some debt to have been paid in full. The two had nodded to one another and Mujekeewis had faded into the trees as if he'd never been there and Clemsy never saw him again. Afterward, Pa had reluctantly taught him to work a rifle. Clemsy may have been terminally clumsy but he wasn't, and isn't, stupid. He was well aware of his danger when handling a firearm, just as he knew what he was doing when he worked with explosives. Ironically this was part of his particular talent, so he became quite a respectable shot. However, he'd never killed a thing. He wouldn't and Pa respected that. If he had to, maybe he would. Otherwise, it just felt wrong.

Right next to his shovel, a rifle lay within reach. He looked at it but felt no urge to pick it up. Runt lay undisturbed and Sidetrack was fast asleep, one hind leg bent, the hoof barely touching the ground. The dog bark was a dream then.

Again.

For the past three nights his dreams had been vivid and very strange. In one he rode a mare through a forest of giant trees, much like the one he was in now. There was always a dog, large and black with ears that pointed straight up and a snout that looked more wolf-like than dog. As often happens with dreams after waking, the image appeared in his mind from wherever dreams hide. The dog had looked right at him and barked a warning. Just as it had the night before.

And the night before that.

Chapter 2, Part 3

Clemsy's Refusal

Clemsy eyed the ribbon of thickening cloud cover between the old growth trees lining the Road . No one was around to notice, so he indulged himself and pouted. What am I doing? Where am I going? Wherever I'm going and whatever I'm doing why am I doing it and why am I going there? She knows.

"Just go," she'd said.

What? Where?

"Don't worry about what. Just go. West."

West? Just go West? Dang, Ma! Why?

"Don't worry about why. Just go."

Jes' go? No, dang it! Ma, I got a job! The rains'r comin' then snow an I'm th'one keeps the roads clear and lamps lit! I cain't jes up'n leave! I got responsibilities!

"Watch how you talk to your Ma, boy," rumbled Pa, suddenly standing behind Ma. "But you have to trust us, Clemsy. You have to. We can't tell you any more now. Trust us, son. You know we wouldn't ask this if we didn't have reason."

No, no, NO!

That last No! had been shouted into the darkness of Clemsy's room at the boarding house. He'd sat up trying to remember the dream that had his heart pounding. He closed his eyes and saw his mother sitting at the dining room table back home. She winked, smiled and the image faded like smoke.

Then it all came back to him.

"Oh no," he moaned, head in hands.

He'd left home to start his own life. He may have stumbled and bumbled his way to a place in this town, but he'd done it. He was valued. Well, there was that incident with the black powder when he turned some rocks at a bend in the river into perfect number three drainage stone but had overestimated the charge. He'd promised the mayor not to play with explosives anymore, and Mr. Tanner was back on his feet within a few days with no hard feelings at all.

How could he just up and leave?

He couldn't and that was that.

"Dang, but Ma wouldn'ta done this without there bein' something dang important goin on. Shoot." He didn't get back to sleep that night.

Now here he was, three days out, heading West. His weather sense told him that cloud ceiling was deciding between a really cold rain or a heavy, wet snow. Sidetrack was not pleased. In fact, Clemsy had the distinct impression that the horse was not talking to him in a decidedly human, "I'm very angry with you at the moment" sort of way.

Runt had followed him out of town, but was nowhere to be seen.

Clemsy had done everything he could to not leave. But the world conspired against him from the moment he went into town the morning after Ma's little "visitation." The town's tool shed was locked. No one knew who locked it. It was never locked anyway, the key having been lost at some time no one could even recall. After practically destroying the shed trying to get the door open, Sidetrack threw a shoe and the blacksmith was nowhere to be found.

So, of course, Sidetrack wandered off to find him himself.

By this time, Clemsy's pale complexion was a beet red and everyone gave him a wide berth. Not because he was a bomb about to go off, but because accidents seemed to follow the boy like the plague on the best of days. His was the sort of personality that gave a town character, but you didn't want to get too close when his temper was up and he was mumbling to himself. That would have been tempting fate.

Clemsy made his way to the Post Office and ignored the workers repairing the window. (They, however, noticed him and acted like the glass would shatter all on its own just to be over and done with it with Clemsy so close.) He collected the mail for the Boarding House and came up short at a letter addressed to himself in his Ma's strong hand. His red face paled after opening the envelope and reading the short note:

You think today has been bad? Wait til tomorrow. Love, Ma

He gave up and, talking to himself, walked across the street to the Mayor's office to tell her he'd be leaving for an indefinite period of time. "'Why,'" she'll ask? 'Cuz my Ma says so,' I'll answer. 'In a dream.'"

"Dang embarrassin'," he grumbled.

But the mayor was very understanding. Unnaturally understanding. And everything after that went as smoothly and effortlessly as could be. Even Sidetrack was back in his stall in the boarding house barn... with his shoe replaced.

But now, the first cold drop smacked him on the back of his left hand. Clemsy growled low and turned Sidetrack off the road to find a campsite while there was still dry wood to be found.