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It is strange to look back on that time of innocence and ignorance. Bizarre, almost, to put into words experiences that we had before words had been conceived of. Yet if this tale is to be told, it must be from the beginning. And while other events preceded those I now recount, they were hidden from me then. So I go back as far as my own memory reaches.
To the mountain.
Mountain…somehow, that word is lacking. It is like calling the Great Wood I sometimes see in my dreams a forest. Accurate, perhaps, but incomplete. That place of my first waking was so much grander than seems fittingly conveyed by “mountain.”
Bright sunlight woke me on that first day. I lay in a hollow of what later proved to be the mountain. Soft heather formed a cushion beneath me as I stared up at the rich blue sky. You must remember, though, that I knew none of the words for the things I now describe.
What I did know was that the light was too brilliant to endure for long, so I turned my head away. It was thus that I discovered I was not alone. Less than a minute’s awareness-or so I guess-and already I had met another creature. Little did I know how dear it was to become to me.
As the figure lay sleeping, I looked over it. I suppose that I was like a youngling, examining my new world without quite comprehending it. My companion seemed to have many things in twos: arms, legs, closed eyes, and long, furry ears. Its body was covered both by black fur and by simple but well-made clothing.
Looking down at my own form, I saw that we were similar, and yet also different. My limbs were slimmer, my frame more delicate, and I was clad in a plain dress. Reaching up with my hands, I marveled at them for some moments. Then I lifted them further and felt that I, too, had a pair of long ears standing erect atop my head.
Just then, my companion stirred, and his eyes opened. Like me, he stared briefly at the sky before turning his head. Our gazes met, and time-if it can be called time-seemed to stop. Staring into each other’s eyes, I think we both felt that we had found the greatest wonder yet in a world still so new to us both.
I do not know how long we spent in that hollow. The passing of time was another new thing, so new that we did not at first comprehend it. So engrossed were we in our world that at times we failed to see aspects of it. We might notice the light for a time, then find some other object for our attention. It would only be later that we would realize that the light had moved, or so it appeared.
We tested our limbs, and found that we could walk. There was no crawling or toddling as younglings will, for we were strong and steady. My companion, indeed, possessed a solid frame that would, in time, prove mighty. Yet even had we been able to know fear, there would have been no cause. His touch was soft, and as kind as any child that has invited a curious insect onto their palm.
Eventually we made our way out of the hollow and onto the mountain. Holding hands, we wandered across the lush, green grass that covered the vast slopes. We found water, and we drank. Fruits and vegetables came next, and we ate.
Before long we learned that we could jump and run as well as walk. We bounded across the slopes, exhilarating in what we could do. I well remember the rush of speed. My companion was slower, but always kept me in sight.
Soon-if it was soon-we found that we were not alone. Others like us wandered the mountain, taking in the same marvels. Then we marveled at each other, and the ways we had of telling one from another. Our numbers grew until we seemed to be a great crowd.
My companion and I became guides to the others. Perhaps it was because we always came upon them, rather than they upon us. I do not know that we had awakened much earlier, if at all, than any of them. And certainly there were others who were of equal, if not greater, stature to us.
As far as we could without speech or other skills that we yet lacked, we came to know each other. Though we enjoyed our new fellowship, at times the great body would break into smaller ones. Sometimes we would wander alone, or form pairs other than those in which we had awoken. Yet most often I found my way back to my companion, finding my greatest contentment in his presence.
It may have been days, or years, that we lived in that fashion. With our fellows we explored, played, and took our leisure. Understanding grew slowly, but still we had no words. The mountain seemed an endless paradise…until we learned otherwise.
The discovery came one day when the sun was high. Most, if not all, of the group were there, traversing an area none of us had yet visited. The gentle green slope turned suddenly rocky, which was not unprecedented. But then it came to a sudden stop, with nothing but air beyond it.
Our band was puzzled by this development. Empty space was not entirely strange, but the utter absence of any ground was. Looking out, we saw clouds swirling before us, where before they had only ever been above. Then the wind shifted, and we could see.
Far beyond the ledge, we could see a great pillar of rock standing amid the clouds. Beyond it lay another, and yet another beyond that. If we could have counted, or known what numbers were, we would have seen that there were seven. Past them, at the edge of our sight, rose a mass that was clearly less in height.
However, it looked soft and welcoming, looking as though the moss-though we had no word for it then-that grew on some areas of the mountain covered it. But where all the moss we had seen previously was green, this appeared in another shade. It was like the sky when the sun has vanished but its light is not entirely gone. It is yet another thing that I can only name now.
Blue.
Even then, I felt drawn to that softness and to those hills. A part of me wanted to leap across those stones then and there. I might have done that very thing, had something not stopped me. It was a day for new and strange experiences, but this one was not altogether pleasant.
Making my way to the edge, I peered across the line of stones. I marveled at them, so slender in comparison to the mountain, though mighty and solid in spite of that. However, my eyes were drawn inexorably down to the abyss from which they rose. Clouds obscured much of it, but it was obvious that a great distance lay beneath them.
Never before had I felt fear, but I did at the sight of that abyss. I wished to flee, but found myself trembling too hard to move. My companion came to my side then, pulling me against him. It was a great comfort to feel his firm presence in the face of that emptiness.
Almost the second my shivering ceased, the ground beneath us began to rumble. It was almost as though my companion’s body had acted like a conduit, transferring the frightened movement of my body into the rock of the mountain. The shaking wasn’t enough to affect our balance, but it was disconcerting. Quickly, we pulled away from the edge.
With that, the mountain quieted.
Sleep was long in coming to me that night. Yet another new and strange experience came with it. Before, sleep had always been a calm void between times of waking. On that night, however, began something that would become a constant of my life: dreams.
Vivid images filled my mind, both wonderful and curious. I saw a figure that should have been too bright to look upon, and yet was not. From it-no, from him, I somehow knew-I sensed things that I had yet to know myself. Sorrow, wisdom, and compassion without measure.
I saw my companion, and all those whom we had found, doing things at which I marveled. Wood and stone and things I had not yet encountered were shaped in ways I could not comprehend. Things taken from deep in the earth were made into wonders. Plants grew in ordered rows or formed beautiful designs as we tended them.
Then I saw myself, my belly round and my face joyful. Other forms, like my companions and I but smaller, multiplied in my visions. They grew taller, and were joined in their turn by more of the smaller ones. All grew and spread and, if they would, found joy.
Dreadful scenes were present among the happy ones. I saw dark forms, massive and hideous. I saw some of our kind straying from light, their hearts becoming as shadowed as the monsters they served. But against these were set others whose eyes were bright and whose hearts did not waver.
One thing all of these scenes had in common: they did not take place on the mountain.
My dreams returned night after night, and troubled me even when I woke. I ceased to run as I once had, and spent more time in solitude. My companion was my only true comfort, but he too seemed troubled. For a time I thought it was only that, seeing my disquiet, he too was unsettled.
But then came a day when, having left me alone for a time, he sought me out. I had taken to a hollow where bare soil covered the ground. Marring as little of the soil as I could with footprints, I had drawn many of the most vivid things from my dreams. Lacking words to speak, sing or write, it was the only means by which I could express myself.
Following my trail of prints, my companion looked with wondering eyes upon my images. When he reaches one particular scene, he stopped. His eyes softened, and I knew which picture he was looking at. It was of the two of us, surrounded by a cluster of smaller forms.
After a moment, he came to where I knelt, my latest creation before me. I did not know what it was. But I had seen it upon the heads of many of those I had seen in my dreams. In those images, it had been the color of the great light in the sky as it sank beneath the horizon.
Kneeling at my side, my companion looked at the outline I had made in the soil. Then, to my surprise, he reached out with his hand and added to my work. His finger made several small indentations in a line across the base of the shape. His thumb then made a larger indent in the center.
I stared at his contributions to the image. The object as I had seen it in my mind appeared to me again, and I saw its decorations. Several stones, most of them other shades of the light of sunset. But the largest-the one represented by the indent my companion’s thumb had made-was the color of grass.
Lifting my eyes, I met his. In that moment, I knew that his sleep had been troubled by the same sights as mine. Our hands clasped, and we looked out across my collection of images. Then, together, we rose to our feet.
We sought out the others in small groups and brought them to view what I had made. As best as we could without speech, we made them understand our experiences. Confusion, fear, curiosity, and excitement resulted. But whatever the reaction, all of them followed us as we made our way back to the cliff.
The mountain began rumbling when we were still a distance from the edge. Now, though, it seemed to be quivering with excitement. My companion and I clasped hands once again. Somehow, we knew what we were to do next.
Running together, we Leaped.
Beneath us, the mountain heaved, as though to toss us. We sailed through the air, my fear of the abyss warring with the thrill of flight. Then we landed atop the first of the standing stones. Despite the jarring impact, we started running again.
Again we Leaped, and again we landed. So we came to the second stone, the third, the fourth, the fifth. But in our mad rush, and in our ignorance, we were veering off course a little more each time. And so, when we made our leap from the sixth stone, we saw too late that our latest Leap would not bring us to the seventh, but off to one side.
Fortunately, though we did not yet know it, we were being watched over. A great wind, mightier than any we had experienced before or since, blew as we sailed. Its force was enough to bend our path, carrying us back in the direction we had meant to take. And so it was that we landed on the seventh stone, shaken but unharmed.
Perhaps it was that calamity, miraculously prevented, that made us pause. Or perhaps it was weariness, for never had we made such an effort as we had just completed. In any event, we did not rush to continue our journey. Instead, we walked to the center of the stone’s peak.
Closer now, we could see the blue mass that we had glimpsed from the edge of the mountain. It looked softer and more inviting than ever before. But standing there, on the last stone, we could see clearly that we would have to descend to it. Returning to the standing stones, and by them to the mountain, might be impossible.
Sensing this, we both turned back to the mountain. From this distance it looked forbidding, but we knew well its gentle slopes and pleasant stretches. On the edge from which we had Leaped, we could just see the mass of our fellows. They were watching us, evidently waiting to see what we would do.
Our eyes turned to the new place, back to the old, and back again to the new. Something told us, now that the wild surge had ended, that we now faced something irrevocable. If we made our way back, life would go on as it had before. But if we went forward, we would face a new life of which nothing was certain.
Looking into one another’s eyes, we found an understanding without speech. Both of us had seen the same visions. While there had been strangeness and sorrow, there had also been joy. And that joy would not be found back on the mountain.
Joining our hands once more, we turned…and Leaped.
The others followed us across, though more cautiously. As such, they had no need of a wind to curve their path back into its proper course. Eventually, all of us stood on the opposite end of the chasm from the mountain. We found ourselves on what, later, we would call a grassy sward.
Above us loomed, though not as high as the mountain, the blue shapes we had come seeking. But so weary were we from our exertions that we could not manage even the short trek up to them. As such, we lay down upon the grass, whether singly or in groups, and slept. My hand and that of my companion remained clasped, and that night I did not dream.
Upon waking the next morning, we found that we had indeed made a choice that could not be altered. For as we looked back across the abyss, the seven standing stones were no longer there. Had we even dared to leap back to them, we could not now do so. We could only look at the mountain where we had awoken, standing tall and solid.
Immovable.
With no other path now left to us, we walked up the hills. Now we could see that, though they were indeed covered with moss, it was of the same color as we had seen on the mountain. Growing from it, and causing it to appear blue from a distance, were flowers. Their fragrance was sweet, and our mouths watered.
Reaching down, I plucked two of the flowers. I handed one to my companion, and kept the other for myself. Smiling, we each ate, marveling at the new taste. Our fellows, seeing us, did likewise.
How long what happened next took, I cannot clearly remember. But my mind began to stir, even as it had when I dreamed. Indeed, for the rest of my life I would often dream when I slept. My companion, however, would never again dream the same dreams that I did.
But in any case, it was no vision of things past or yet to come that I experienced in that hour. It was, instead, an awakening. My eyes looked upon the world around me, and where I had before perceived only pictures, now I imagined words. Wonder filled me as the world around me took on meaning.
Just then, my eyes fell upon my companion. Words came to my mind, telling me the colors of his fur and eyes, how he was both taller and broader than I, and that the look on his face was the same astonishment that I felt. But staring at him, one word kept repeating itself to me. Without knowing how I knew, I knew the word was a name, and that it belonged to him.
My hand reached out and touched his chest, just over his heart. I opened my mouth, and found that my tongue could do more than help me to eat and drink. Clearing my throat, which startled both of us slightly, I looked into his eyes. With a smile, I spoke.
“Flint.”
His eyes widened at the sound. Perhaps it was simply the strangeness of speech itself. Yet I could see him turn the name over in his mind and settle on the rightness of it. He raised a hand, strong yet gentle, to my cheek. When he spoke for the first time, I felt the thrill of knowing that, as his name had come to me, mine had come to him.
“Fay.”