By the time the sun had risen, we were no longer in such good spirits. We were wet, tired and very hungry. I imagine that we made a very sorry sight indeed. My clothes were somewhat torn and very muddy; my hair was like wet straw. Jack's robe was, oddly enough, not torn at all, though it was spattered with mud. His hair, which had once been twisted into a bun on the crown of his head, was now an absolute mess. He must have felt as awful as I did, but he didn't complain at all. I didn't either - I may have been cold, wet, hungry and miserable, but at least I was alive and in one piece. And I wasn't alone.
"Do you know this area at all?" he asked me. "We need to find some shelter, and some food."
"I know the roads and the towns, but not the woods. I'm completely lost. Sorry," I apologized. "But food I can manage, with a little luck. One sec." I removed my quiver, then untied the oilskin that kept its contents protected from the elements – it had kept everything inside dry, despite the deluge and harried escape of the night before. The bow, secure in its case, was also in good condition. I took an arrow from the quiver and the bow from its case, put the quiver on my back again and fitted the arrow to the bowstring. "If we find a rabbit or something, I'll get it." Jack nodded, and we journeyed on, taking care to move quietly so as to increase our chances of coming across some game.
We didn't find any food, but we did find a big hill with a stream running by it. The hill was mostly granite with a thin covering of soil, and there was a shallow cave in it. We weren't the first people to use it as a campsite, for there was a scorched circle and a pile of ashes in it. Jack and I gathered some fallen branches and twigs to make a fire. The wood was wet, but it was all we had. Fortunately, Jack managed to find some birch bark for tinder. I was able to get a blaze started with my flint stones. I took off my cloak and spread it out on the floor near the fire to dry – it was a warm day anyway, so I didn't need it.
"I'm going to see if I can find us some breakfast," I informed my traveling companion. "Do you think you could find some fruit or something?"
He nodded. "Perhaps I can catch some fish from the stream as well. Should we meet back here in an hour?"
"Fine with me." I left the cave and ventured into the trees to see what I could find.
By the time the hour had passed, I'd managed to bag a hare, and Jack had gotten some roots and berries. He'd also managed to catch and clean a couple of fish. One of them was cooking on some hot stones by the fire – he had cut the other one into pieces and was eating it raw, with the little pair of sticks he had used to eat his dinner the night before.
"You don't cook your fish first?" I asked incredulously.
"I am cooking yours. But where I come from this is considered a delicacy." That was the only explanation he gave. Where the heck did he come from? I didn't know of any place where people ate raw fish.
I was curious about that, but at the time my hunger took priority over my curiosity. I skinned, cleaned and cut up the hare, then picked up a suitable stick from the little woodpile and started roasting the meat. My fish was done by then, so I ate it and some of the berries while I waited.
It was then that I realized something else – I didn't see anything here that looked like a fishing pole, nor had I seen one outside. If he'd caught those fish less than an hour ago there should have been one. "How'd you catch those fish?" I asked.
He looked up at me and held up his left hand with a smile.
It took me a moment to understand. "You're kidding. With your bare hands?"
"No, I am not. It is a skill that takes a long time and much practice to learn." To say that I was impressed would have been an understatement.
"Where did you learn that?" Perhaps the answer would give me some idea of where he came from.
"Africa."
I frowned. "Never heard of it." He just shrugged, as if he had expected me to say that. I would have to figure out some other way of finding out about him.
That task kept my mind occupied for the rest of the day. The weather was good, so we each took a turn to bathe and wash our clothes in the stream. While my traveling companion was out, I got a needle and thread out of the little kit on my belt and mended the tears in my clothes. They were still going to be damp for a while, but at least they would be clean damp, and the fire would dry them off in a few hours. My boots would take until morning to dry, but since we weren't going to go anywhere for a while it wouldn't be much of a problem.
Go anywhere…Suddenly an idea popped into my head. I took a small stick from the woodpile and whittled one end with one of my daggers. Then I stuck the pointy end into the fire until it became charcoal. I blew out the flame and began to draw on the cave floor.
By the time Jack had returned to the cave, it was nearing sunset, and I had completed my drawing on the floor. It was a rough map of the world as I knew it, with the four cardinal points marked for guidance. Jack looked at it, a little puzzled.
"This way you can show me where Africa is," I explained. He nodded and, stepping around the map, came to kneel down beside me.
"Here." With a finger he indicated the large continent that I knew as Evvika, south of the subcontinent of Europa. "Somewhere in this region." He pinpointed a place near the source of the great Nyel River in the northeastern part of that land.
"Is that where you come from?" I asked. He shook his head, refusing to meet my eyes and offering no other answer.
I could only think of one other option, and it was something I wished to avoid. But I really wanted to know.
"All right. This is where I come from." I pointed to a region on the eastern end of the Metrranian sea, the body of water between Europa and Evvika. "What do you call this land?"
He looked at it. "The country of Turkey."
"I lived in a village on the coast," I told him, tapping the area with the stick. "I grew up there. My father was a hunter. Most of the other people were farmers or fishermen." I paused, trying to think of the best way to phrase it. "I would probably be living there now, except…one year the harvest wasn't good, and we couldn't afford to pay the annual tribute to Aku. Now there's no village anymore." It had been a long time ago, but the memory still hurt – which was why I had not wanted to talk about it. It would be worth it, though, if I could get Jack to talk about his own homeland.
I turned to face him, and was surprised to see the way he was looking at me. There was something in his eyes that wrenched my heart, an emotion that no words can describe. Whenever I think about it, even now, I feel deeply unsettled. But it was there for only a moment before he caught himself and hid it away.
He held out his hand. "I will show you where I came from." I passed him the drawing stick.
He began working on the map, expanding upon it, drawing in places I didn't know. He finished by drawing an archipelago of islands (three big ones with a scattering of small ones) off the eastern coast of Osia. He pointed to it with the end of the stick. "This land is called Nippon, or Japan." Pause. "Well…it was." He erased it with his hand. There was a rumble of thunder outside, and the sound of rain falling.
I felt like a complete jerk. He had avoided talking about his home for the same reason that I did not like to mention mine. "I'm sorry," I apologized.
"It was not your fault." His eyes were on the sooty smudge that had once been the archipelago. He wasn't looking at it so much as through it.
"No, I mean for making you talk about it. I didn't know." I wanted to slap myself.
There was one of those long, awkward silences, broken by a loud snap and a flare of light as the logs settled in the fire. Jack turned and threw the drawing stick into the flames.
We ate the rest of our food in silence before settling down for the night. I wrapped myself in my cloak and managed to find a comfortable position on the stone floor. Jack sat against the wall on the opposite side of the fire, with his legs drawn up to his chin and his arms resting on his knees. He kept his sword in the crook of his elbow and rested his head on his forearms. It looked like an uncomfortable way to spend the night, but after a few minutes the sound of his breathing signaled that he was asleep.
I, however, did not fall asleep for a long time.