3

bisThe morning after the last night of the Sightless Festival was always full of regret no matter how big or small the tribe. Orwen had awoken to the stench of souring mop water being splashed on his face.

"Get to work," yelled the barkeep. She had not slept for three days and was ready to get the tavern back to normal.

"You said I could have today off, Minerva." Orwen staggered up from the wooden slab behind the tavern's back porch. He had been too drunk to walk back over to his cabin. 

"Listen here, you little imp," Minerva bent down to look at Orwen eye to eye. She liked exaggerating his lack of stature. "You get to cleaning up the tables or you'll be out of a job."

She huffed back inside and Orwen rubbed the sleep from his eyes. He couldn't head back into the bar and start work immediately. He could smell himself-- the ale and vomit and three days of sweat and no baths. He smelled worse than the soured mop water.

Orwen staggered up the hill towards the commune cabin. He had not seen his friend, Jynn, in days. He knew Jynn would not have participated in any of the parties but was hoping Jynn had better luck with the ladies from all the ritual meals. Jynn was always more into the religious aspects than the actual fun. 

The commune cabin sat downhill away from the center of the tribe. It was for bachelor's and young men with no means of paying for room and board on their own. It was a long rectangle building with no interior walls. Just lines of beds and mats and bunkbeds and windows.

Orwen pushed through the entrance curtain and went straight to the far corner. He expected Jynn to still be in his bed for his morning meditations. Not only was Jynn not there, it looked like Jynn had packe dup and left. Granted, none of them in the cabin had much when it came to personal items, but Jynn's rucksack, journal, drawings and boots were gone as well as his linens.

He looked for any sign that Jynn would return. And then he saw the note folded twice stuck between the bed post and the wall.

Orwen sat on the bed and unfolded the note. It was a few, hurried scribbled words: "Dream. Quest. Destiny." 

Orwen scratched his head. He wasn't perplexed. He knew what the words meant. He knew what Jynn was trying to communicate. He just hadn't realized that it would happen so soon. Now Jynn was off on a trek and Orwen was not around to protect him, counsel him, guide him, help him. He had made a vow sixteen years ago and now he was in danger of breaking his word.

The sun had been above the horizon for the first quarter of the day. Orwen quickly ran plans through his head. Should he go now? Go where? No doubt Jynn was headed to the Great Sea. Jynn had always had a connection with water, this Orwen knew and understood full well. But when did Jynn leave? How far along on his journey was he? And after reaching the shores, where would Jynn go?

Too many unanswered questions. Orwen knew only one thing right there that morning: "I have to go."

He grabbed his coin purse. He had saved the menial wages for a time like this. There was no need for a sack to put his tattered old belongings in. He grabbed the compass, Jynn's letter and left the cabin.

With his short strides, on foot it would take him up to three times as long to get to the Great Sea. He had already planned for this. If ever Jynn did leave with out him, Orwen had a runt colt set aside for him at the harvest tents. He had already spoken with the owner and had settled on a price if and when Orwen needed to purchase him.

With determination and a foul stench that would only get worse, Orwen left the cabin for the last time and headed back over the hill towards the livestock.