A few hours of walking brought Ham to the edge of another village. Another village! In all of his life, and the lives of his family and friends in Dusk, Ham had never heard of anyone who had been to – or come from – another village.
“I suppose,” thought Ham, “that there have been other villages all along. Why has no one ever visited between villages?”
This was another new thought. Somehow, without being aware of it, Ham had slipped right out of his Huddler groove into a new way of thinking about the world. It all started with his dream of the Lightbringer, a dream that had become a vision that he carried with him all the time, now.
As Ham came closer to the village, he saw the Huddlers of that village glance up and then continue on their way. He had expected that maybe one of them would say hello or even show a bit of curiosity. After all, no one had ever walked between villages before!
Ham saw an older fellow walking across the center of the village, head down, eyes down, feet shuffling. Ham strode up (yes, strode up) to the man and said “Good morning.”
The man barely raised his eyes, and opened his mouth just a crack. “H’lo”. And on he shuffled.
Ham walked after him, and said “My name is Ham. I’m from Dusk. I’m seeking the Lightbringer. Have you seen him?”
The man didn’t even raise his eyes this time. “No Lightbringer.” And on he shuffled, dust puffing with each tedious step.
Ham paused and thought.
“He’s not curious. He probably doesn’t even know who the Lightbringer is. And he doesn’t seem to care. How can I find the Lightbringer if no one will even stop to talk to me?”
Ham decided to stop each person who crossed the center of the village and ask if they knew of, or had seen, the Lightbringer.
Old women said “No Lightbringer.”
Young men said “No Lightbringer.”
Married couples said “No Lightbringer.”
And not one said “What is a Lightbringer?” or “Who is the Lightbringer?” or “Why do you care?” or “Where are you from?”
They shuffled, they mumbled, they continued on as they had the day before and the day before that.
Around noon, Ham decided to take a break for lunch. He settled down on a tree trunk bench in the center of the village (there was a tree trunk bench and a well in the center of this village, just as there had been in Dusk), took off his traveling pack, pulled out his food wallet, and prepared himself a lunch of dull bread, boring beans, and a couple of sips of water.
As Ham ate, he watched the folk of this village (“I wonder what the name of this village is?”) shuffle to and fro. Not one stopped to talk to him. Several raised their eyes just enough to see that he was there. Until…
A young man, of about Ham’s age, stopped. He was walking past Ham, who was still sitting on the tree trunk bench, eating his lunch of dull bread and boring beans, when the fellow just… stopped.
“H’lo,” he said.
Ham stopped chewing, sat up straight, and said “Hello!”
“New?” mumbled the fellow.
“Yes, I’ve just come to your village from my village of Dusk. What is the name of this village?”
“Drear.”
“My name is Ham. What is your name?”
“Hal.”
As you can see, this was not a very exciting conversation. Of course, Hal was a typical Huddler in most ways… most ways but one – he had seen Ham and wondered and stopped and said “H’lo.”
“How’d y’get here?” asked Hal.
“I walked,” said Ham “and bathed in a stream and watched the sky.”
Hal seemed to consider this for a minute. He raised his head and looked at the sky. He looked toward the edge of the village where their own stream lay. And then he looked back at Ham and asked “Walked?”
