Mountain Hiking

The mountain was cold and bright come morning. Stan had propped himself up against the tree that had nearly broken him in half. All said and done, it was a nice tree when not being used to break a fall. The sun had risen quickly in the sky, and Stan could finally survey his surroundings.

For better or worse, he had not seen nor heard any activity at the peak of the mountain. No screams or flashes of light, meaning that Kutak was likely safe for now. Nor had he heard anything below him, meaning that the other villagers were still safely behind him in the hunt for the dragon.

He could see the trail above him, but the path was guarded by a slope of slippery, crumbly limestone and dust. It was amazing that this tree that had been his savior managed to grow at all in this rocky terrain. Going back up was probably not the solution. Looking down was no better. He would have to scramble from tree to outcropping and hope he didn't miss his stop and go tumbling again, breaking more ribs or worse.

His best bet was to wind around the mountain and try to hit the path where it was lower in elevation. Although there weren't many footholds, the slope was kinder in the counterclockwise direction. He was pretty sure that he could scramble up a ways and then slide down to the next "safe" spot. What he didn't know was if there were any landing areas beyond the two scrubby trees that he saw ahead of him. Maybe there, in the last tree, he would be able to spot his next move. He felt like he was in a large game of chess, but he was the pawn, and nature was some nobility out to get him.

His spear had miraculously survived the fall -- mostly. The tip was intact, but the bottom four inches or so of the handle had snapped off, leaving him with a two sided weapon, because the jagged edge of the break was bound to give him splinters or cut his foot when he wasn't looking or moved too fast.

Realizing that he was losing focus, Stan shook his head, cleared his mind, and began calculating his first jump. He eased his back off of the tree and worked into a squatting position against its bark. If he aimed correctly, it would be an easy first leg of his journey. And if he misstepped, there was a tree thirty feet below that could perhaps catch his fall.

Taking an achingly shallow breath, Stan started scrambling up the mountain towards the tree that was his first target. For every four steps he tried to take, he achieved the distance of one. The rocks were like dust in his hands, but if he dug deep enough, he could get enough of a hold to pull him up just a little farther. The spear swung awkwardly, precariously, from his back.

His chest and ribs were on fire. Every breath was agony, but so was going without. The tree seemed to grow farther away, and the edges of his vision began to blacken. He reached a sort of balance point, where he was more or less dangling from the limestone, his feet perched on somehow sturdy pieces. He took a moment to try and clear his vision. He regretted pretty much everything about this journey, about the last few days, and about his life in general. Why hadn't he gone with his father, or become something else entirely? Why was he the one burdened with this bullshit?

His vision cleared and he was able to make his next move. Despite his misgivings, the tree had been closer than he realized. Using his footholds as a springboard, he squatted just a little bit and winced preemptively as he launched himself up the mountain in a desperate grab for the tree's lower branches. He felt bark meet his fingertips. He gripped with all of his might and pulled his aching body to safety.

He rested in the cedar's limbs, inhaling the pine-fresh scent and being grateful that he was not yet dead. He felt oddly victorious, although he knew in reality that he had only made it a couple of body lengths away from where he had originally landed when he fell.

"Stan, is that you?" A voice broke Stan from his resting stupor. He looked around for a few seconds before noting a small silhouette above him. "Stan?" The voice called again.

"Kutak?" Stan tried to shout, but it squeaked out of him.

"Stan, what are you doing down there?" The boy seemed to be dancing with glee above him.

"I fell!" This shout was more manly, and it cost him a blazing line of fire through his abdomen.

"The dragon pushed you?" Kutak yelled excitedly. Stan's eyes rolled so far back in his head that he thought he might never see again.

"Help me, Kutak!" He shouted, regretting the extra words as he did. This broken rib thing was no joke.

"Hang on, I'll save you!" Kutak shouted joyously. Stan saw the boy move closer to the edge of the path.

"No, no!" Stan shouted. "Don't come down. Do you have rope?" Every word was like a gong through his body, but the last thing he needed was for that dumb boy to fall down the cliff trying to save him.

"I think so!" Kutak was enthusiastic. He stepped out of Stan's line of vision. Seconds later, he returned, lifting a coil of rope high above his head. "Here, catch!"

"No, wait!" Stan said desperately, his stomach sinking as he watched the boy fling the rope down the side of the mountain, somewhat towards him. The rope landed near the original tree he had fallen into.

"Sorry!" Kutak's sheepish voice echoed over the mountain. The kid was so dumb that he probably didn't even know why Stan hadn't wanted him to throw the whole thing to him.

Stan drew a deep breath. Breathing was rather overrated at this moment in time. "It's fine. I'll get it."

Stan began his aching scramble back the way he had came. Since he had flung all of the loose pieces of stone during his last uncoordinated mountain climbing attempt, it was actually a little easier for him to make it this time. There was no awkward pause in the middle.

The rope was long and rough, and heavy -- but it would do the job. Stan slung the rope over his shoulder, made a lasso with one end, and surveyed his surroundings. Kutak was still on the path, squinting down at him, waiting for instructions.

"Kutak!" He called out. "Take the trail down. Meet me there." He pointed towards the direction that he had been heading before Kutak had interrupted him.

"What about the dragon?" Kutak shouted. Stan's frustration with the boy grew.

"I'll tell you when you get there." Stan tried to use fewest words possible to convey his message. There was a lightning bolt still shooting through his ribcage, and he was literally doing everything that he would tell his patients not to do. Like climb a mountain. Or fall off of one, for that matter.

He tossed the rope towards the tree that he had just been at. Kutak had shouted something unintelligible and disappeared around the bend. He didn't have the energy to shout at him to be careful. Three trees over, and Stan would be able to use Kutak to get back on the path. And then he would lean on the boy for the long walk home. The long, painful, rocky walk home. With a newly broken rib. And of course, the village's charming and sweet yet idiotic boy man.

When Kutak and Stan returned to town, the only things Stan wanted to do were self-medicate and sleep, in that order. He had been in too much pain to keep up conversation with Kutak, but he appreciated the boy's strong lean form supporting him as he staggered home. True to her word, Mira had come for the horse, so they couldn't even use that to quicken the journey. It was mid-afternoon by the time they had returned.

Apparently, without Stan's leadership, none of the men had gone out to search for the dragon. He didn't know why, but imagined that Mira may have encouraged them to wait. The problem, of course -- even Stan's blurry brain could see -- was that if the men didn't find the dragon, it might cause trouble later on. Unlike the rest of the dragons of Dyssa, this one was real. And larger than a house.

"I need to rest." Stan said as they crossed the threshold into Dyssa. "Go and tell your father that you're safe."

"Yes, sir." Kutak eagerly agreed. Stan frowned.

"And don't go wandering off like that again." He chided.

"Yes, sir!" Kutak was enthusiastic. Stan was confused.

"And stay quiet about what happened out there, okay?" Stan wasn't sure what to make of the boy's sudden happiness. "We'll talk, you and I, later. After I tend to my injuries." And take a nap.

"Yes, sir." Kutak looked somewhat muted by this, and Stan's curiosity was satisfied. Whatever Kutak might've been planning, he hoped that he had curbed the boy's enthusiasm for now.

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