The lone traveller

The lone traveller, part one

The cold wind was biting his cheeks. He had to admit it, he was lost. He rubbed his hands together in hope of warming them, but all he was feeling was pain. He tried to look to the horizon, but the frost was all he could see. He gave up and pushed his hat down to his eyes, slowly diving into a deep sleep.

Everything was black, and for a moment, he thought he might be very far away from his own body. He had fallen into the kind of sleep which makes you feel like you have died; everything is blank and all memories are gone. This dreamless sleep was so good and allowed him rest; he thought about nothing and forgot who he was. He forgot the cold and the dreadful world; he forgot he ever was in need or in pain or in danger. He felt like he had been hibernating for ages.

When he woke up, it took him a long time to realise he was alive. At first, he thought he was dreaming, at last, for the pain and the cold had vanished. But at the precise second his eyes opened, he knew he wasn't dreaming, for he never could have imagined such a place.

His eyes were first drawn to the mountain in front of him, the familiar mountain whose shape he had tried to guess through the frost before he fell asleep. Its shape was unique and it couldn't be mistaken: it looked like a half-crescent moon. But at this precise moment, something wasn't right. As his eyes opened, what he saw was a half-crescent shimmery silver stone towering the horizon in the distance, and not the mountain he knew, which had always been covered in snow.

The sun was shining on the sparkly speckles of light far away. Had the snow melted overnight? He could do nothing but to stare at the huge eerie rock. His thoughts were bouncing inside his head as he was trying to make sense of these images. He dared to look around after a while. What he saw was even more unsettling, and made him jump back to his feet in disbelief. What had happened to the world he knew? How long had he been sleeping? This could not be. He tried to remain composed, but he barely succeeded. He started to analyse the sights in front of him and find answers.

He believed he might actually have moved in his sleep, for he didn't recognise the place at all to begin with. But his extended knowledge of the area allowed him to recognise the riverbank, the stope of the valley and the sunbeam cloak over the land. He knew where he was, but he was alienated from his home. The thing that struck him most was all that stone; it was as if all the snow he had seen all his life anchored in the earth had been turned to this rough material. He suddenly realised how hot he was. He felt the need to take all these superfluous clothes off real quick. First, the jacket, then, the hat, and the huge scarf. his body had never been sweating the way it was. It was like landing in hell. He stopped stripping when he found himself in underwear, and could at last feel the slight breeze passing by. Judging by the heat emanating from the ground and spreading to the shimmering stones under his feet, he had better not take off his shoes.

Then, he had to use his hands as a visor to continue observing the area. The sun and the stones were too bright for his sensitive eyes to bear it. But the spectacle he was witnessing was breathtaking. On a background of purplish blue sky, billions of facets were reflecting silver lights back to him. He thought he was in some magic cave, endowed with small treasures in a fantasy world. He had never suspected such wonder could have been buried under the coat of snow. The silver-faceted weird-shaped stones were extending as far as the eye could see. The sequoia forests and the roads seem to have disappeared; this looked like a raw land. In his awe, he felt some kind of uneasiness, and even though he wanted to appreciate the landscape, he knew he was far away from home, and had to find a way back before he made a bad encounter.

He looked to the horizon. Silvery stones, mirrors, rainbow rocks rising over the riverbank. Water - he needed to drink. But was it the same drinkable water he knew? Driven by his thirst, he started to make his way there, as there was only one way to find out.

He was scared to see the landscape move around him to the rhythm of his steps. Each second, he thought he saw, at the corner of his eye, something moving behind the stones. But when he turned around there was nothing there. He had to carry on, for his thirst was beyond imagination now.

The river was approaching, and he was walking faster and faster. Soon, he was running, in his underwear, reaching at it with both arms open. The surface was shinier than it had been, even in Summer. The water was more beautiful and calling to him than ever. He wanted nothing else but to dive in it. And even before his feet reached the bank, he did, and hit the bottom with his toes, like he did when he was little, one Summer day when the surface was not frozen. He had been able to remain in there for thirty seconds longer than his elder brother.

But now, the water was warm, and so pleasant. He emerged his face and started swallowing great gulps. The first gulp was the most difficult, and he coughed a bit before he could swallow more. But it didn't matter, it was so good. It felt like a blessing in his body, and he was alive again. He had never felt such bliss. The surface of the water cast a strange image back at him; his beard had grown so much. How could a human be able to hibernate? Guilt caught him again, and he decided it was time to leave the land of dreams.

He got out of the river and tried to find a way to the village, if it even existed here at all. He followed what he thought was the path he knew, leading to his home. It was difficult to navigate without the trees, but he followed the setting sun to the West, where he might find hope.

After a ten-minute walk, he arrived at the edge of the hill overhanging the village, and he wondered what he had even expected. All he found was ruins, a broken home. He could make out the shape of the tower, which had been almost wiped out if it wasn't for the first story where they used to meet to keep each other warm. Once, it had been the highest building in miles: a rallying point so valuable and sentimental to the villagers. He had to walk closer to find answers.

The whole village was ghost-like, and again, he could only find rocks. Except these weren't covered with mirrors. He wondered what had happened there. Was it a storm? A war? Simple desertion? No one would have abandoned this mirage of warmth in a world so cold. He almost regretted his painful frost. He got near the remnants of the tower. It was so strange... moss had covered most of it, and erosion had damaged the shape of the stones. How long had he been sleeping?!

Suddenly, the sound of footsteps on gravel surprised him. And yet, he had seen no one coming! Very carefully, he turned around.