The weather being not too hot and not too cold, Ham laid out his sleeping blankets by the far side of the stream, lay down on them, and spread out his clothes to dry. Never before had Ham just lay on his back and looked at the sky.
“How can this be?” Ham wondered. “How can I have spent my entire life, before this day and this time, without just lying on my back and looking at the sky? The sky was always there, and my back was always there, and the ground was always there, and yet…”
This was a difficult thought for Ham, and he didn’t work at it too hard nor let it work at him too hard. It also didn’t occur to Ham that maybe this was a new thought for a Huddler of Dank.
The afternoon turned into evening, and Ham and his clothes dried and he rolled up in his blankets beneath the evening sky and slept.
Ham was on the road, looking east, toward where he believed the Lightbringer to be. He was floating just a couple of inches above the ground, and seemed to be able to move effortlessly. He turned to look behind him, and all was dark and dull and he could see no hint of light or color to the west.
He turned back to the east, and could see light and a blossoming of colors awaiting him. He looked to his left, to the north, and saw that there was a glorious forest of greens and golds and reds, with delectable fruits hanging from the branches, and the ground covered in soft leaves and grass. He turned to the south, and he saw plains with green and gold grasses, flowers by the millions in all colors and shades, gently rolling hills on which deer played and ate and slept, and above which birds of all kinds swooped and screamed and swept the air.
And Ham turned back to the east, to that light and color that called him, drew him, urged him on, and he walked just above the ground toward his goal.
Ham awoke and was confused. He had a sense, a hint, of a remarkable and enchanting vision, and a sense of loss and sorrow that it was gone. Tears rolled down his cheeks, as he lay in his blankets beneath the overcast sky, and fell with gentle plops onto the blankets.
Ham shook his head, wondering and knowing at the same time. He got up, got dressed, and had a bite of bread and cheese and a few sips of water.
He turned back to face the west, toward the village of Dusk. He had come so far that all he could see was the road and the drab forest and dull fields.
He looked at the stream, just in front of him.
He turned to his left, looking to the south, and said right out loud “Welcome, stream. I hope your journey has been pleasant.”
Ham looked straight ahead of him, back to the west, and said “Thank you, stream, for the gift of your flowing gentleness.”
Ham looked to his right, to the north, and said “Farewell, stream. I hope your journey and mine cross again.”
With that, Ham turned his face around to the east, packed up his sleeping blankets and his food bag, slung his pack and his water bag over his shoulder, and began walking.
