?
snapped Lev's eyes open. He shifted positions, forgetting he was perched on an outcropping until his foot slipped off the ledge and dangled in midair. The weightless sensation jolted him fully awake as he yanked his foot back to safety.
Still foggy with sleep, Lev pushed his sack of supplies off his chest and stretched. Another screech caught his attention, and he scanned the skies for its source. Whatever raptor screamed above the Varraran, the winged predator avoided Lev's gaze. But other birds, crested brown larks and sandy partridges, flitted across the landscape, pecking at outcroppings and cracked soil for insects. Thankfully, they also banished the haunting midday silence with their songs.
The birds were not alone. A herd of tan and white wild asses grazed as they slowly climbed a distant ridge. Closer by, a pair of dun-colored hares bounced beneath a bush, and a gray rodent darted into its burrow. Behind them, on an angled edge of a neighboring outcropping, a toad-like lizard covered in brown and white markings basked in the afternoon sun.
The Varraran was coming back to life, and its residents were telling Lev it was time to move.
"Right," he said aloud as if the creatures were listening. Then he dropped off the ledge and took stock of his situation. First, he stepped away from the outcropping and searched for the sun, finding it close to the western horizon. Sunset was only a few hours away. He'd have less time to walk than he'd hoped since he'd have to make camp by nightfall. But the Varraran was already noticeably cooler, and with a brisker pace, he could make up for lost time.
Nodding to himself, Lev turned back to the ledge, pulled down his weapons, and belted them on. He slung his knapsack over his shoulder and set out with a confident stride. He still had plenty of water, most of his food, and while lonely, travel had been easier than he'd expected. Even if he took a day longer than Yudi's prediction, he should reach Behrad safely.
Hours later, little had changed Lev's mind.
He had paused every time his mouth felt dry to take a sip of water. A piece of dried beef here. A fig there. And during his last break, a pinch of salt on his tongue. Better yet, as afternoon faded into evening, his clothes had dried, and he still felt strong.
But as the sun dipped toward the horizon, it transformed into an orange disk and bathed the Varraran in a lurid, amber glow. The denizens of the afternoon disappeared, and new creatures emerged, signaling the time had come for Lev to find his resting place. Bats arced in chase of insects. A porcupine bristled across his path. And most disconcertingly, a pack of jackals yipped and yowled somewhere behind him. Their chaotic chorus sounded far away ... but ... were they following his trail?
Lev had gathered scraps of dry shrubs as he'd walked—all he needed was his elevated shelter for the night. As he searched, though, he kept ruminating on his greatest fear—leopards. Since the riverbed, he'd seen no sign of the great cats. But still, even armed with his sword, could he really defend himself from such a beast? Fueled by his anxieties, he'd passed several outcroppings that might have been suitable for a night's rest—except for a leopard's ability to climb. And as darkness approached, Lev feared he'd been too picky.
Then a towering structure emerged ahead of him. A jagged spire as tall as D'Win's walls. Squinting, Lev scanned for a ledge somewhere above his head. He needed a spot high enough to discourage a curious leopard's investigation. And, if possible, high enough to increase a determined leopard's vulnerability, giving Lev a chance to strike it down.
This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
Circling the outcropping, Lev finally found what he needed on the spire's southeastern face. Here, half of the spire's upper third had broken off. A flat surface awaited him twenty feet from the ground—if he could reach it.
Lev's first attempt to climb, though, quickly defied him. His sandals kept slipping as he tried to gain a purchase on the rockface. Out of other options, he slipped his sandals into his knapsack and tried again with bare feet. This time, his toes helped grip the jagged surface. Slowly but surely, he worked his way up the spire until finally collapsing on the ledge beneath its summit.
Exhausted, Lev lay on his back and stared at the starlit sky. He smiled, recalling how his parents had taught him the names of various stars and constellations when he'd been his little brother Diran's age. "There's the Wanderer," he thought, as a brilliant star blinked overhead. "And there's the—"
Beneath him, somewhere close, a loud howl sent chills up his arms. And there's the he thought. No time to rest just yet.
Lev sat up, dug through his knapsack, and pulled out the tinder box, a tuft of dried grass, and a slender branch. Setting the supplies for his fire aside, he gathered a small pile of rock fragments from the ledge and formed a low ring with the stones. He placed the dry grass inside the ring and shaped the loosened tuft into a nest. Satisfied, he opened his tinder box, pulled off a small piece of char cloth, and leaned it against the grass nest. Then he struck steel against flint, showering the cloth with sparks. As wisps of smoke swirled from the reddened char cloth, he carefully placed it in the nest's hollow, leaned forward, and blew on the embers until small flames emerged.
Moments later, a modest fire crackled and popped in front of Lev. He broke the branch into finger-length pieces and fed them to the flames. Then he fed himself. A piece of lavash, some walnuts, a strip of dried beef with extra salt, and several sips of water to wash it all down. As he finished drinking, he judged the water skin's bulging sides and smiled. The skin was at least half full, and he still had a second water skin he hadn't touched. He was well on his way to conquering the Varraran.
South of him, the jackals cackled, seeming to agree. They had slunk silently past his position without incident. He strained to see them, but the glare from his fire mixed with the desert's darkness and blinded him to anything beyond his ledge.
Lev set the water skin on the ledge next to him and pulled his blanket from his knapsack. Already cold, he wrapped the blanket around his shoulders and propped his back against the spire. He sat sideways to the low flames with his legs extended while breaking a sturdier stick into pieces and dropping them into his lap. Jaw set, he stared at his fire, ready to provide more fuel as needed. He only had one task for the remainder of the night—keep the blaze burning until dawn. If he did that, he should be safe.
Easy enough, Lev thought, mesmerized by the dancing flames. Easy enough.
Sometime later, Lev's head bobbed forward and back, snapping him awake. To his chagrin, his fire had been reduced to a spoonful of red embers.
"No, no, no ...," he moaned to the darkness, groping for the sticks in his lap. But as he leaned forward to add them to the coals, a sound from the base of the spire froze his blood. Tightened his bowels. A low, chattering growl.
A leopard had found him.
Breaths short and tight, Lev added the scraps of dry wood to the embers, then he leaned forward and gently blew until a flame flared into existence. More, he thought. More fire. More sticks. Trying to stay hidden, he reached blindly backward for his knapsack. But as he swung it forward, the knapsack caught on something, dragged it forward, and dropped it off the ledge. Lev froze, stunned by what he'd done. He'd just knocked his water skin to the ground.
Below him, a vicious snarl shattered the silence.
What had happened? Lev wondered, fear fluttering in his throat like a caged bird. Had the waterskin frightened the leopard or angered it? Had it dashed away or was it climbing the spire intent on ripping him to shreds?
Shaking, he grabbed his sword and unsheathed it. He gripped the hilt with both hands and imagined the leopard rising above the ledge, fangs bared, claws extended. If that happened, he'd have one chance to thrust his sword and strike a mortal blow before the leopard overpowered him.
Lev looked up at the sea of stars. Guide my hand, Father, he thought. Guide my hand.
A Griffin's Choice has you on the edge of your seat. If so, please consider following my story and making it a favorite. And, of course, I'd love to hear from you in the comments! Those small gestures will make my day.
his seat, isn't he? Heat, jackals, and now a leopard. Clearly, the Varraran has lived up to its dangerous reputation. Do you think Lev will reach Behrad? Let me know in the comments below :)
Do you think Lev will reach Behrad?
