Flute And Fire Page 5

  Chapter 5

  After awakening from his gray mist dream, Keith struggled a few minutes to recall where he was. He gazed around at this close surroundings. He noted that his pale colored shirt was torn in places along the sleeves and back. The matching pants were torn all around the knees and beginning to rip up the seams. Rubbing his hands ups and down his leather boots, Keith noticed how well they took the beating. Just a few nicks and scratches. His belt pack that hung on his hips was also intact, though minus his laser gun.

  Keith stood, so to stretch his aching muscles and bones. As he pulled his arms well over his head, his eyes caught sight of another opening leading to a good size valley. The valley he and his team had been mapping for some time now!

  His heart raced, as he studied the few yards of thickets that laid between him and the sea of green grass. Suddenly he bent down looking for his knife he dropped earlier. Securing his grip, he began hacking away at the thickets. Soon he pulled himself clear of the gnarly vines that had trapped him for so long. He stumbled. as he begun to walk forward through the waist high grass.

  Before the crash, no one had ever walked on the Earth, except for the occasional release of the Solar Star Base lab animals into their new Earthly homes. But no human has set foot down upon the soil with the purpose of remaining, even if accidental. Now Keith found himself here. It was an exhilarating feeling to see the valley he had studied for the last few seasons only from a different point of view rather than a loftier one. Gingerly, he began to hop and skip through the slender blades of grass, like a dancing butterfly. The trees spotted the valley in many places. Everything was in early summer bloom and expressing their wonderful scent. The abundance of floral color gave breathe to the beauty of the land.

  Panting from all the excitement, Keith finally rested at a spot where the grass was lying flat. he untied his belt pact pulled out a small candle to light, only to realize he had nothing in which to light it with. He mumbled to himself, “I suppose my candle will not be lit, but I will still give my offering of thanks for the Great Spirit sparing me my life and letting be a part of this beauty the surrounds me.”

  Long ago, when the People did inhabit this Earth, there were sacred herbs used for such purpose as offerings. Today on the Solar Star Base they grow some of those herbs but can only allow a certain amount to be use due to the limited supply. The People have always relied upon their resources at hand and have utilized the beeswax for this purpose and many others.

  Patiently, Keith cleared a spot on the ground in which to place the candle. He then took another look around and directed his courageous voice to the sky and began to pray, “Wakan Tanka, Great Spirit, it is I, Keith Ambrose, Man of the Wind, who has come to greet you this fine day! I am truly blessed to see such Grace.” Keith motioned with his arms to the glorious valley before him. “I will honor this land of my ancestors. I will do it right by the laws of God the Great Creator and the original instructions. I am willing to face the fear, just I ask you show me the way. Lead me to the destiny you have laid out for my spirit. As the Chosen One, I do not feel worthy of such a Great task, but for you Creator, I will be your warrior if you call it to be! Let me know You are with me.”

  Keith bowed his head and closed his eyes in meditation, but soon found his nose being tickled by the smell of burning wax. He opened his eyes to find the candle lit. He tested the flame with his finger much like pinching yourself to see if it is a dream. Quickly he snapped his finger back as the flame bit. Quietly, Keith sat before the candle, pulling his knees up to his chin and wrapping his dirt smudged arms around his legs. He stared at the candle for a long time and replayed his recent dreams and visions in his mind.

  The growling of Keith’s stomach brought him back to reality. In the historical studies of his Ancestors, Keith learned many ways to cultivate food and how the People of the land would snare game for meat, or gather berries or nuts. His stomach began to growl more. He had to find something to eat, but first he will gather some wood, seek a camp site and begin a small fire pit before the candle burns all the way out. He wanted to retain the power of the fire.

  Roaming through the valley, Keith pondered on how to catch his game, and what to go after. He had no sword or arrow to kill with, so that option was eliminated for immediate use. He felt he was not strong enough to fight animals as big as he. No, he would not hunt bear today. But pricking in the back of his memory of all the tales and folklore, was an option that could prove to be fruitful.

  “Yes, that is it!”, Keith blurted out loud. He remembered hearing a story about Fur Trappers and how they built several kinds of traps for all kinds of game. He decided he would worry about how to kill the animal after it was caught. Maybe use his knife at the point.

  There was a tale told by Keo, of a trapper who would dig holes, big deep holes, and cover them with branches and brushes so to disguise the hole. Keith’s only dilemma was what to use as a shovel and where to strategically place the trap. “Hmmm...as far as what to catch , well I suppose that will be determined by what animal falls in the trap first. I guess I will dig a whole as big as I can manage to trap an animal my size or smaller”, Keith concluded in his mind.

  In the valley were many streams that fed into a small river. One deep stream in particular had a lone tree near its banks, where a bend in this stream took a sharp turn. This spot was also close enough to where Keith decided to set up camp with his fire already burning. So if anything yelps, he will hear it. Keith deemed this spot perfect for his trap.

  Just up on the bank were several large pieces of flat thin rock weighing 5 to 7 pounds. Using one of these pieces and twine that was tucked inside the belt pack, Keith fastened to a long strong stick, creating a crude shovel. With the rock now secured in the split end of the stick, he began to dig.

  It was all trial and error, but Keith managed to make the shovel work for his purpose. Half way down in the hole, Keith began to breath in deep and smelled the damp Earth. He stop only for a moment to enjoy the new sensation. It took nearly an hour and a half to dig the hole to his satisfaction. By that time his shirt, or what was left of it, was soaking wet with his sweat and labor.

  Before he could rest, he will need to gather branches to cover the hole. Nearby in the distance was a small grove of young willows. “Perfect”, Keith mumbled under his breath and with his knife he harvested no more than he needed and vocal a prayer of thanks to the Mother Earth for her generosity of the fine pieces of willow.

  The only chore left was to find what would entice an animal to stand at this spot. What Keith needed was bait. Taking his sweaty shirt off, Keith wiped off his face with one of the torn sleeves. As he pulled his shirt away from his face, he noticed the salty smell of his sweat. “Maybe, just maybe”, he mumbled again and plans became clear. Quickly he rubbed all the sweat off his body with the shirt. He hung the shirt from a branch that was suspended over the hole. Keith was in hopes that some animal would be curious of the scent.

  He walked a few paces away to admire his craftiness. Suddenly his attention was averted to the stream. Two big fish jumped up in the air. Keith’s stomach just roared. How long would he wait for an animal to fall. Then another idea of fishing for food came to mind.

  Following the bend back around the swollen stream, Keith headed back towards the small grove of yellow aspens, where his camp was set and the fire still burning. There was very little grass growing at the feet of these white barked trees. Some big gray rocks were cropping up from the ground in the very middle. It did make a perfect camp site.

  These gray rocks stood four feet tall in spots, as its tops rounded up and down, from the wind, looking like rolling hills. Marking a rather large circle around the soft dirt floor, the rocks became protecting walls to the camp. There were plenty of fallen dried out wood scattered around to make the first night’s fire last through to morning.

  Feeling a little domestic, Keith looked
back at this tidy little camp. He began to feel the hunger pains again. He looked back at the stream. As he walked back to the stream, Keith eyed the ground for another long sturdy stick. It wasn’t until he reached the stream that he saw the floating stick hung up in the stream by a fallen log of a oak tree.

  The stick lost all its outer bark to the rushing water. It’s skin appeared grayish white. Picking it out of the stream, Keith examined its worth. Slowly he turned it over and studied the smoothness that was occasionally interrupted by the small knots. Grasping the stick with both hands, he tried to bend it without breaking it to test the sturdiness. It was strong. Some magic the water must have given this branch, for it was stronger than anticipated.

  Deeming it most worthy, Keith slid out his knife, that was securely tucked away earlier. With the last of the twine from his belt pack, Keith tied the knife on to one end with the point of the knife extending beyond the stick. “This will work for a spear in a pinch”, Keith laughed to himself. He then realized how much he was enjoying himself and his ingenuity. Shirtless, hungry but hunting for food, camp set up - yes, Keith was experiencing instincts he only read about in his history studies. Motions acted out by his ancestors before him.

  Keith’s attention was suddenly adverted back to the stream and the two beautiful salmon jumped into their arc leaving the rainbow spray of the water traveling behind them. Again, the stomach grumbled. Keith took a serious tone as he set out to wade into the water.