The pillars of creation

As he walked along, Friedrich often talked, in his mind, to Althea. He would describe to her all the sights he was seeing, the terrain, the vegetation, the sky, hoping that in the world beyond she was able to hear him and smiled her golden smile.

With the day drawing to an end, he had to decide what to do. He didn't want to be traveling when it grew too dark. It was a new moon, so he knew that, once the afterglow of dusk receded, the darkness would be nearly total. There were no clouds, so at least the starlight would stave off the kind of smothering, total blackness he hated most, the kind where he couldn't even see up from down-that was the worst. That was when he was most lonely.

Even with the stars out, it was difficult to travel unknown regions by starlight alone. In darkness it was easy to wander off the path and end up getting lost. Getting lost would mean that in the morning he would likely have to backtrack to find a way through an impassable area, or find the trail, and in the end it accomplished nothing but to waste time.

It would be wise to set up camp. It was warm, so he wouldn't really need a fire, although for some reason he felt as if he wanted one. Still, with a fire, he might attract notice. He had no real way to know who might be around, and a campfire could be spotted for miles. Best not to have a fire, as much comfort as it would provide, in exchange for the security. At least there would be stars overhead.

He considered, too, the possibility that if he kept going the trail might shortly lift out of the boggy lowlands and he would come across a better place for a campsite-a place not as likely to be rife with snakes. Snakes, seeking warmth, would slither up to be close to a person sleeping on the ground. He'd not like to wake to find a snake cuddled up to him under his blanket. Friedrich hiked his pack up higher on his back. There was still enough light to push on for a while.

Before he could start out again, he heard a small sound. Even though it wasn't loud, the inexplicable nature of it made him turn and look back up the trail to the north, the direction from which he had come. He couldn't quite put the sound to anything that came to mind, to any frog or squirrel or bird. As he listened, it was again dead quiet.

"I'm getting too old for this sort of thing," he muttered to himself as he started out once more.

The other reason nagging at him to keep going, the reason that was actually the most important, was that he hated to stop when he was this close. Of course, it could still be distant enough to require a walk of several days-it was hard for him to tell with any precision-but it was also possible that he was much closer. If that was the case, stopping for the night would be foolish. Time was of the essence.

He could walk for a little longer, at least. There was still time to make camp, if he had to, before it was too dark. He supposed he could push on until he couldn't see the trail well enough to follow it and then make himself a place to sleep in the grass beside the lake, but Friedrich didn't really relish the notion of sleeping out in the open right beside a trail, either, not when he was so deep into the Old World, and not when he knew there could be night patrols about. He'd been seeing more of the Order's patrolling troops in recent days.

He'd avoided cities and towns, for the most part sticking as close as he could to a straight course down through the Old World. Several times he'd had to change that course when the destination had changed. As he traveled, Friedrich had gone to great pains to avoid troops. Being near any of the Order soldiers meant there was always the potential of being detained for questioning. While he wasn't as free of suspicion as a farmer in his own home might be, he knew that an older man traveling alone didn't look very threatening to big young soldiers and wasn't likely to raise suspicions.

However, he also knew, from bits of conversation he'd overheard when he had been in towns, that the Imperial Order had no qualms about torturing people when the fancy struck them. Torture had the great advantage of always eliciting a confession of guilt, which proved the questioner's wise judgment in having suspicions in the first place, and, if desired, could produce the names of more conspirators with "wrong thoughts," as he had heard told. A cruel questioner never ran out of work or guilty people needing punishment.

At a snapping sound, Friedrich turned around and stood still as a stump, listening, watching. The sky and lake were mirrored violet. Tree limbs stood out still and silent, hanging out over sections of the path like claws waiting to snatch travelers when it became dark enough.

The woods were probably full of creatures just coming out from a long day's sleep to hunt at night. Owls, voles, opossum, raccoons, and other creatures became more active as it got dark. He watched, waiting to see if he heard the sound again. Nothing moved in the hush of twilight.