Wednesday, July 03, 2013
Worlds within Worlds #2.6
Away from the shoreline the air grows much hotter, fighting against my sweat to dry out the muddy daubs across my chest and thighs and forearms.
The avenue here is well grassed, with few patches of stone showing through the green carpet. Wherever possible I walk along the softer strands of clover, avoiding the sharper tufts of glass-studded grass and the gravels that cover smooth rock. My feet are still weak, enjoying ease when they should be striving to endure any hardship that I assign them.
I keep my eyes wide as I pass along the curve of the hill. The land on either side is festooned in trees. Occasionally I spot a longer trunk thrusting above the canopy of its peers: some look ripe for the harvest. Some look over-ripe, past their prime – good for nothing apart from the fire.
Behind the hill, I find a valley. I do not recognise it.
I can hear the quiet slush of running water somewhere downwind of me, where the ground descends gently. Closer by, upwind of me, the other side of the hill meanders for some distance inland, and the avenue clearly follows its shape, in some places digging into the side of the hill to keep the incline reasonable. Beyond the river stand other hills, much higher than this one. I suspect that somewhere up ahead the two seams will narrow the valley into a gorge.
The thought of passing through a gorge to reach the High Domain worries at my courage like a dog ... a dog? Another word that hints at meaning? No, I mean a worm – a worm on the bone. More than once I have to throw words at the air to keep my legs striding.