On a typical Dank morning, when the sky was overcast and the weather was dreary, Ham was ready.
He had extra clothes.
He had his water bag, and it was filled with water.
He had his food pack, and it was packed with food.
He had his sleeping roll and his weather shield and his pack in which to carry it all.
He was ready.
Ham put his food pack and his extra clothes and his sleeping roll and his weather shield in his pack, slung his pack and his water bag over his shoulder and looked around the family home he had known all of his life.
He looked at Horace, his father, and said “It’s time for me to go.” They embraced briefly.
He walked to Hannah, his mother, and putting his arms around her said “I will find him, and then I will know.” Hannah looked in his face, stroked his hair, and nodded.
He hugged Helen, his sister, and whispered “The Lightbringer.” She looked at him with a combination of fear and awe, wrapped him tightly in her arms, and then let him go.
He patted Hank, their dog, and savored a last lick and lap.
Ham walked through the center of Dusk, as he had in the picture in his head. As he walked through the village, the Huddlers of Dusk huddled together. In some strange way, they seemed frightened.
Ham had learned the skills of others. He had thought the unthought and done the undone. And now he was doing something more that was never thought of or done until that day – he was leaving Dusk.
None of the Huddlers of Dusk had ever left. They grew up, married the Huddler that was chosen for them to marry, had baby Huddlers, and lived the lives and did the work that their parents and grandparents and great-grandparents had done before them.
None of them ever left until today, that is. Ham left.
Ham walked to the edge of the village of Dusk, a little more erect and confident than he felt. This was as far as he’d ever come in his life. Everything that was a part of his life was within the boundaries of the village. Farms and workshops and homes and animals and tools and all the people of Dusk were inside those boundaries.
Ham stood at the edge. At that moment, his confidence and certainty were tested. He took a moment to question his belief.
“Is there a man, a Lightbringer, out there somewhere? No one in Dusk has ever stepped past the village borders, and here I stand about to step off. Is it worth it? Can I handle it?”
Ham stood while the sun stepped slowly, inch by inch, up the sky, banging and bumping at the clouds covering Dusk and the land of Dank. Ham looked at the ground, as any good Huddler would.
Then Ham lifted his eyes and looked straight ahead, into the world beyond Dusk. He saw nothing frightening. He felt unease, but no fear. Finally Ham tipped his neck and head back and looked up at the overcast drear of the sky, and saw the slightest hint of the sun and he knew, once again.
Ham took his first step out of Dusk, and began his journey.
