Second Part to the Not Yet Titled.

When the sun began to rise, my consciousness began as well and I was fairly uncertain as to why I wasn’t waking up in my bed, or any bed for that matter. I sat up confused, looking about. I would have sworn that the last day had been a dream; it was all so fuzzy. Even now my mind felt sedated.

My back ached; even breathing seemed to hurt from sleeping atop the rock. My neck was stiff so I lifted my hand to rub it. The stabbing pain was shocking. My hand had been cut open quite badly from the tunnels the day before, but I had been so relieved to find my way out I had taken no notice of it. It was red and puffy all along the inch long gash from where I had drug my hand across the sharp rocky floor of the tunnel. It needed my attention. Suddenly though, I felt overwhelmed by all of the things demanding my attention; my need to figure out surroundings, my aching body, my hand, but all were outweighed by the gurgle of my stomach. Before I could figure anything out, I needed food.

Grabbing the nearby bag I opened it and began to rummage through it in hopes I had at least brought snacks before coming to wherever I was. The bag was black leather and was built like a backpack but fancier. The edges were worn though and parts of the thick straps were frayed. I emptied the main pocket, my stomach growling now.

I looked through the objects, inspecting all for food but there was none. Instead what lay beside me was a thin, dark wooden stick about the width of a quarter around at the bottom; it slimmed to the top with intricate carvings all along it and was about a foot long. Beside that was an old book with no name on the front, a long silk white robe, a black candle, a white candle and matches. No food. I dug through the side pockets of the bag but in each were only assorted crystals, rocks and three large bags of some white grainy substance I was afraid to try, despite my hunger. Jamming the contents back into bag I sat up on my knees. I dropped the old book trying to get it back into the bag; it fell against the rock and opened in the wind. Pages began blowing and coming loose. I hurried to it and carefully put the pages back in line. It was then that I noticed something strange about it. The whole book was written in handwriting. My handwriting. It was then that my veil of fuzziness began to lift and I began to remember what had happened.

In the midst of my recollection though, my hunger ached and so I decided that I could piece things together and preserve my survival at the same time. I dreaded the idea of having to go all the way back through the tunneling rock, staying up atop the mountain all night seemed like such a silly idea to me now. But then I hadn’t been quite clear in thinking yesterday. I scouted out the terrain from the edge of the rock, by the tree where the owl had been perched. The sun was making its full appearance now along the horizon, over the land. What the rest of the island looked like entranced me; from the height I was at I could see it all. While taking in the unbelievable landscape I saw the silhouette of the great bird flying toward me.

Looking into its deep black eyes, it was like it knew me. It came to me; wings stretched out, right in front of me and I instinctively put my arm out for it to rest.

I watched it in awe as it shuffled sideways and inspected the wound on my hand. I felt out place speaking but I said hello to it. The owl looked up from my hand to acknowledge my greeting, and touched it’s wing to my open palm. Knocking its head to my head, the owl then flew up the tree and rested in a hollow. I stood for a moment watching with my arm still stretched out as it began to sleep. I looked to my extended arm where it had stood to find that my hand was healed, as if there had never been a scratch.

This side of the mountain was not as steep on the edge as the water facing side, which was a straight down drop. This side was made up of relatively smaller boulders angled downward. I thought I’d rather chance it then having to make my way through the tunnel and all the way around the mountain, to explore the Island for food. About half way down the mountain there was a large flat rock protruding further than the others, I would have to jump a considerable distance down to it.

My hunger and the awareness required of me, left me no time to ponder on the how’s, what’s or why’s of my circumstance, or time to feel the impact of my hazy forgetfulness of self, I suppose I thought it could all be a dream.

I looked out, once on the landing, and stopped to catch my breath. The circumference of the island was edged with jetting mountainous rock like the one I was climbing down, the center of the island; a green valley within stonewalls. With my hand over my eyes, I could see the side of the northern-most mountain had a waterfall and it pooled at the bottom into a crystal lake. That was the direction I would head once I’d reached the ground. When I turned to the south the rocky landscape was moss covered from what I could see and the valley there was dark green with forest that extended up the escarpment. I had to take a double take, when moving my eyes over the wooded land there, when I thought I saw the grey bellowing of a fire from the mountain’s base.

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