Nothing happened except a small puff of dust as Ham’s foot planted itself in the soil. There were no cheers or applause, nor boos or catcalls. There was just the slightest mumble behind him.
Ham turned and looked over his shoulder back into the village of Dusk, and he saw figures huddled at the corners of the buildings. They just looked, and a few mumbled to others.
“Outside?”
“Leaving Dusk?”
“Where…?”
With his second step Ham was outside of Dusk. For the first time in his memory, and in fact in the memory of the oldest Huddler elders, someone was outside of Dusk. Ham had just a hint, at that moment, of the importance of this occasion. Do not forget that Ham was a Huddler, a people who are not renowned for their deep thought, terrific insight, or emotional range. So while Ham did have the slightest sense of something important, mostly he just started walking.
He wondered, as he left Dusk, why there seemed to be a road leaving Dusk if no one ever left Dusk. It was clear to Ham that this was not an entirely natural cleared space that led off in front of him.
The road led east. The hint of sun was in front of and above Ham as he walked. As he walked, he rolled the word “Lightbringer” around in his mind.
He knew that he hadn’t made up that word. It was as if it had just appeared in his mind on the day that the sun stroked him for just that wonderful moment. He just wasn’t sure quite what it meant, or why it was so significant.
Looking around just a bit as he walked – being a Huddler, even an unusual one, his curiosity wasn’t great – Ham saw that he was walking on a bare stripe running between forests and fields. The trees in the forests were somewhat droopy and drab. The fields were dirty and dusty, with just the barest bit of dull grass struggling to make a good showing.
“Why is it all the same? And why so drear and drab and dull?”
And so it went, through the morning. Ham walked, looking and thinking as he went. Occasionally a plain brown bird would flap by, or a discouraged deer would thump across his path. Generally, it was pretty unremarkable.
Around noon, when the hint of a glow of the sun was pretty much over his head, Ham came to a large rock by the side of the road. The rock was a bit wider across than Ham was tall, and about the height of his knees. This was the perfect place to stop, sit, eat, and maybe take a short rest.
Ham sat and had his lunch of brown bread and bean paste, a bruised apple, and a sip of water from his water bag. Finishing his lunch, Ham lay down on the rock, which was warmer than the air, and quickly fell asleep.
Ham dreamt. In his dream, he was walking down the road toward the east. He came to a village, and he asked the people “Have you seen the Lightbringer?” The answer was always the same: “What is a Lightbringer?” He left and continued on to one village after another, always asking “Have you seen the Lightbringer?” and always getting the same answer.
Ham awoke. He had expected to see the Lightbringer in his dream, not to dream of the futility of his search. But Ham still had that one sure gift, the gift of certainty founded on belief. So he put on his backpack, slung his water bag over his shoulder, stood up, and continued his journey east.
