Morning everyone and happy Memorial Day. I am going to a picnic/concert today and need to get my picnic hamper prepared. I hope you are planning a fun day yourselves. But before the picnic is prepared, let’s get in a little mental stretching. So set those timers, it is time for the morning prompt. Ready, set, off we go…
I am probably going to spend the rest of the day wondering about this secret of the priest’s.
Monday, May 29th: The ferns seemed to dance in the rain.
The ferns seemed to dance in the rain. Each silver droplet making the various tones of airy green shake and shiver. Hertan peered out of the mouth of the cave. The land was sloped in such a way that the falling rain fell away from the cave entrance so he knew he would not wake up in a flood in the night or drown in his sleep.
He knew that he was alone and that there were no large predators in this area, but the constantly dancing ferns made him wary. In his home the shifting of the undergrowth was always the way he could spot the large cats attempting to sneak up on him. Seeing the movement, made him feel as though there were things he was missing. Things unseen that could kill him.
He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He was safe for the night, or at least as safe as he could make himself. No one was following and no one even knew where he was. Even if they wanted to find him and drag him back, it would take far more effort than he was worth. He could think of no one who would go to that amount of trouble.
His eyes grew tired of watching the dancing ferns and he slipped towards the back of the cave. His higher ground kept him safe for the moment and gave him a good view of the world below. If anyone did come after him, He could hear them or spot them well before they saw him. His cave was the upper part of a system. Following it down through the back opening, would take him into a maze of passageways. He was taught how to navigate them and still remembered. Anyone who would be sent after him would not know them.
He could escape of the need arose. Here he just needed to keep back from the entrance so he couldn’t be seen and listen for the sounds of anyone arriving. Knowing he was as secure as possible, he let the efforts of the last few days wash over him. He felt bone tired. The fear was gone now that he felt relatively secure. The heart pounding flight as those who wanted to offer him up as a sacrifice came for him, chased him and hunted him throughout the familiar lands of his people. The familiar places no longer safe. The familiar faces turned away so they would not have to see him caught.
They dared not help him. He knew that. Still to see his friends, family, neighbors all look away when the Priest’s men chased him, their long knives bared and glinting in the sun, hurt him deeply. He knew that the sacrifice would go one. The priests declared one was needed. They would not go back on that even if their chosen sacrifice escaped. Even if the sacrifice was designed to silence him. To keep him from telling the others what he knew. They declared the sacrifice vital for the wellbeing of the people in the coming year. There would be no going back from that.
Someone else would be chosen.
He tried to worry over it, to feel concern for whoever was chosen in his place. But all he could see were the faces of those he knew and loved, turned away from him, willing to let him die.
He let thoughts of home go. The sacrifice would have needed to be made last night to remain in keeping with the star’s alignment. So even if someone was still hunting him it was to kill him quietly so he could not return, not to bring him back as a sacrifice. As long as he stayed away, he suspected the Priest would let him go.
Ten til Midnight 