The Legend of the Firewalker, Book #1

Chapter 7.1 (A Little Competition)

Author Note:

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Chapter 7.1

As the summer sun descended in the sky, the cliffs overlooking Lake Charleston created a foreboding shadow of the night to come. A welcoming cool breeze embraced Nathan, causing tiny ripples in the water and golden shimmers to dance carelessly across the water's face.   

Nathan stood there as he normally did upon first sight of the water, but this time it wasn't just the beauty of the lake that captured his attention. It was something that Malick said in the forest that bothered him. There was no doubt in his mind that Malick was a jerk and he shouldn't put much thought into the ramblings that spilled from his mouth. He contemplated what Malick had said about him and Lafonda and just shrugged his shoulders. But what was it that he said that bothered him so much?

Another breeze passed over him, embracing every inch of him, but he was unable to relax and receive it. "But why?"he asked himself. He paused and then examined the palms of his hands. They were tense but normal. But why were they so normal when he was so tense? And why was he so upset?

He drew a big breath, sighed, and thought that Malick was right. He wasn't that upset about the car thing. Granted, he wasn't particularly thrilled that he'd been forced to depend on Lafonda's driving skills for his life, but he wasn't angry about it.

He paused for a moment, and then suddenly, he realized why he was so irritated. With everything going on that summer; with his hands, the strange occurrences, and Leah, he felt like everything was coming at him all at once, and now that he was a counselor at leadership camp, he had no time to deal with anything.

Nathan sighed again and relaxed his shoulders. The last thing he wanted to do now was build bonfires with Stephen Malick. He glanced down at his hands, but disappointment washed over him. The last time he remembered being this frustrated, his hands had shaken so uncontrollably that he'd spilled fruit punch all over Lafonda's dress at her birthday party.

He had hoped that he had figured out the whole hand thing: that his hand problem was synonymous with him getting upset or stressed. But they were not even red; no tingling, no shaking, nothing.

"What are you waiting for?" interrupted Malick with a slight grin.

"Nothing," he responded grudgingly. Nathan looked up at Malick and dreaded having to work with him. He secretly wished that his hands would shake uncontrollably around Malick's neck.

Malick froze for a second and glared intently at him as if he knew what he was thinking. But suddenly he looked away. "Is that the guy?" he asked, pointing to a tall, slender man approaching them. 

Nathan rolled his eyes. He found it hard to even think about anything else other than his current frustration with not being able to solve his hand problem or the mystery behind his dreams. "Oh, and let's not forget the mysterious dog," he mumbled aloud.

"What?" asked Malick, appearing puzzled. "What dog?"

"Nothing," Nathan responded quickly, while shaking his head to focus. "That must be him. Who else would be out here stocking the bonfire pits?"

Malick chuckled as he walked past Nathan and headed towards the silver-haired man.

Nathan kicked a few of the small round pebbles that filled the shoreline before following Malick.