July 29, 2012
July 22, 2012
Somers beach
We travelled to Somers where we rented a one bedroom cottage that was Smudge friendly.
The smell of the sea, walks timed with the tides and wonderful tiny discoveries of flotsam and jetsam.
Delightful.
July 14, 2012
Flight of the Warrior Chapter 10 - Bound to her
He flew through the night.
In his mind he heard her over and over again. She sounded as if all her energy had been drained, and he felt there was also fear in her voice. He imagined she would have to be desperate to call him. His mere presence seemed to make her sick.
Still there was something in those eyes, looking at him, green and bright.
He shook his head. Whimsical thoughts, no time for those now. He had to think about what he might find when he got to her. He felt that she could be imprisoned, there was something in the message that suggested this. He would need to stay focused to ensure he stayed alive.
With her plea came a scent on the wind, just the faintest hint of jasmine. Without it the process of following her would have been laborious. His normal method of tracking was using the messages on the wind, but he had to tap into all of the them and work through them one at a time. Like reading a pile of letters until you find just the right phrase hidden deep in the middle of line after meaningless line, a time consuming task.
As the night passed the scent grew stronger and by the early hours of the morning he came upon a steep ravine cut into cold mountains. He traveled upstream flying close to the water, flicking up at him as if performing some strange sort of dance. The sun was beginning to rise, but in the shadow of the ravine the night was still present.
Passing through a bend in the river he suddenly lost the scent. It had been so strong and then it was just gone. With heart sinking he thought she must have been thrown or fallen into the river. He had been too late.
He turned sharply and returned to the place he had lost the scent. Feeling a sense of sadness he could not understand he looked up the ravine wall, leaping to a small step partially covered in creeper for a moments rest. Jasmine was very strong here. Pushing the creeper aside he realised there was a hidden space behind the rock face.
It took a moment to adjust to the light and he was confused by the heady smell. Then he saw her, wrapped in her traveling robes, on the far side of a small pool. He could see the soft rise and fall of her chest so he knew she was sleeping, and he hoped not hurt.
He inhaled, slowly and deliberately. He needed a moment to slow down his suddenly racing heartbeat, and to make sure they were alone in the place. Looking around the small enclosure he was assured there was no danger.
Moving soundlessly over to her he wondered how she had ended up here. This was at best a temporary hiding spot, and a dangerous one. Any rain and this area would flood and suck everything downward to the river. Tonight the sky had been clear, so no chance of that at least for a couple of hours. But you simply could not underestimate how quickly the weather could change in the mountains.
He sat and looked at her in the dim light. She was cocooned in her cloak, only part of her face exposed. She looked vulnerable, and he struggled to harness feelings that raced away unbridled and dangerous.
It occurred to him that when he had received her message he had wasted no time. He had come straight away. Why?
He wanted to believe that is was because if he stayed with her the kage would eventually appear and it was his best chance of capturing him, appeasing his employer and collecting the handsome salary. But there was an alternate reason.
Then she opened her eyes. Waking quickly she sat up. "Thank you for coming."
In his mind he heard her over and over again. She sounded as if all her energy had been drained, and he felt there was also fear in her voice. He imagined she would have to be desperate to call him. His mere presence seemed to make her sick.
Still there was something in those eyes, looking at him, green and bright.
He shook his head. Whimsical thoughts, no time for those now. He had to think about what he might find when he got to her. He felt that she could be imprisoned, there was something in the message that suggested this. He would need to stay focused to ensure he stayed alive.
With her plea came a scent on the wind, just the faintest hint of jasmine. Without it the process of following her would have been laborious. His normal method of tracking was using the messages on the wind, but he had to tap into all of the them and work through them one at a time. Like reading a pile of letters until you find just the right phrase hidden deep in the middle of line after meaningless line, a time consuming task.
As the night passed the scent grew stronger and by the early hours of the morning he came upon a steep ravine cut into cold mountains. He traveled upstream flying close to the water, flicking up at him as if performing some strange sort of dance. The sun was beginning to rise, but in the shadow of the ravine the night was still present.
Passing through a bend in the river he suddenly lost the scent. It had been so strong and then it was just gone. With heart sinking he thought she must have been thrown or fallen into the river. He had been too late.
He turned sharply and returned to the place he had lost the scent. Feeling a sense of sadness he could not understand he looked up the ravine wall, leaping to a small step partially covered in creeper for a moments rest. Jasmine was very strong here. Pushing the creeper aside he realised there was a hidden space behind the rock face.
It took a moment to adjust to the light and he was confused by the heady smell. Then he saw her, wrapped in her traveling robes, on the far side of a small pool. He could see the soft rise and fall of her chest so he knew she was sleeping, and he hoped not hurt.
He inhaled, slowly and deliberately. He needed a moment to slow down his suddenly racing heartbeat, and to make sure they were alone in the place. Looking around the small enclosure he was assured there was no danger.
Moving soundlessly over to her he wondered how she had ended up here. This was at best a temporary hiding spot, and a dangerous one. Any rain and this area would flood and suck everything downward to the river. Tonight the sky had been clear, so no chance of that at least for a couple of hours. But you simply could not underestimate how quickly the weather could change in the mountains.
He sat and looked at her in the dim light. She was cocooned in her cloak, only part of her face exposed. She looked vulnerable, and he struggled to harness feelings that raced away unbridled and dangerous.
It occurred to him that when he had received her message he had wasted no time. He had come straight away. Why?
He wanted to believe that is was because if he stayed with her the kage would eventually appear and it was his best chance of capturing him, appeasing his employer and collecting the handsome salary. But there was an alternate reason.
Then she opened her eyes. Waking quickly she sat up. "Thank you for coming."
July 7, 2012
Glory of colour
 |
| Chinatown, Melbourne |
Fernand Leger, 1881- 1955 French painter and sculptor
July 1, 2012
Flight of the Warrior Chapter 9 - She asks for help
Running on empty she arrived at the ravine.
She was not sure if it was the exhaustion, but the air was full of messages. Unfortunately she could not make out a single one. Her head buzzed as if it was a hive full of bees. Her eyes blurred and her normally excellent night vision was failing. She would need to find a spot soon, or she would just drop from the sky like a stone, defeated.
There was no thinking this through. She simply dived down into the ravine. With all senses in overdrive the sound of crashing and tumbling water deafened her. She longed for silence. She flew away from the thunder of the water instinctively toward a bend in the riverbed where she discovered a semi enclosed area, hidden by a wall of creeper over rock. There was a small pond fed by a steady but modest stream of water coming from higher on the wall of the ravine. On one side of the pond was a stone platform, that bent up into a smooth rock wall, beaten by the river in times of flood. Body aching with effort she threw her satchel down on the platform, and fell down next to it.
She was too tired to cry. She was too tired to make a fire, too tired to eat. With dull resignation she crawled to the edge of the pond. Have a few mouthfuls of water, then sleep, she thought. It was the best she could do for herself.
To her surprise the water was warm, and she realised she had come upon one of the hot springs the area was famous for. This was a wonderful stroke of good luck. These hots springs were touted for their restorative powers. Perhaps they would also bring clarity to her adled mind.
She hastily threw off her clothes, and stepped into the spring. She was shaky and uncertain of her footing, but after a clumsy moment she managed to get herself seated so she was fully immersed, just her head out of the water.
Reason began to return. It was then she noticed she had landed in a place where she could not run to take off. Her eyes darted all around her looking for a way she might climb up the ravine wall. Nothing, no hand or foot holds. Rejoining the river and letting the flow take her further down was not an option. She would be crushed up against the jagged rocks and there were many waterfall drops. She would be pounded under the weight of the water.
She held her face in her hands and began to cry. She was cornered by her own stupidity.
After some time she could cry no more. Her mind returned to thoughts of escape. There had to be a way out of here. She looked again at the walls surrounding her, perhaps she had missed something. She got out of the spring and put her clothes on to have a closer look.
She inspected every section of wall. It was wet and slippery and there were no sharp edges. This area obviously became of funnel for water in heavy rains, as the rock was worn smooth. She checked the entry way, perhaps she could climb the creeper, but it fell away in her hands, dropping to the river below.
She sat down next to her satchel. She rubbed her tired eyes. They felt swollen, so she closed them and listened to the noises around her. Water, the crashing heavy sound of water. Then overlaid on this the messages, further in the distance but still discernible. A mass of different sounds, words interwoven and competing for attention. There was nothing there that could help her but she was heartened that for the first time she could hear something of the messages.
If only she had learned to take off with a couple of steps. She had tried many times. In fact the night she was attacked she had decided to go to a clearing she knew and practice.
There was no-one she could ask to show her. The only man she knew who could fly was her attacker. She was not about to call for his help.
It was then that it occurred to her. The tracker might be able to fly. He had been sleeping many miles from the village in the cave, perhaps he had flown there? To add to this clue was also the mystery of the market. How he had been behind her and then in front of her in the matter of a moment?
So if he could fly, perhaps he could help her. She decided to ask.
She had once before sent a message on the wind, to the physician who had helped her when she was wounded. In her haste to leave she had not thanked him, so she had sent a message from her heart on the night breeze. She had no idea he had received it but felt a certain peace come over her. Perhaps an unloading of her conscience or maybe she had actually done it.
She grabbed the jasmine oil from her satchel and dabbed a little on her wrists. She hoped this might help him find her. It was a hopeless gesture, she really did not know how these messages worked.
Standing out near the entrance she pushed the creepers aside. A cool gust jumped up at her feet, thrust up by waves tumbling into one another from the river below. Hopefully this would be enough.
She thought of him, looking at her in the cave, she felt his hand on her scar, she heard his rough voice explaining they could not talk out in the open. I need your help, she whispered, surprised and embarrassed by the emotion in her voice she withdrew to the inner platform.
Now she had to wait. She unraveled the blanket and laid it on a dry patch of the platform. She laid down using the satchel for a pillow, and pulled her traveling robes close to her.
She went to sleep.
She was not sure if it was the exhaustion, but the air was full of messages. Unfortunately she could not make out a single one. Her head buzzed as if it was a hive full of bees. Her eyes blurred and her normally excellent night vision was failing. She would need to find a spot soon, or she would just drop from the sky like a stone, defeated.
There was no thinking this through. She simply dived down into the ravine. With all senses in overdrive the sound of crashing and tumbling water deafened her. She longed for silence. She flew away from the thunder of the water instinctively toward a bend in the riverbed where she discovered a semi enclosed area, hidden by a wall of creeper over rock. There was a small pond fed by a steady but modest stream of water coming from higher on the wall of the ravine. On one side of the pond was a stone platform, that bent up into a smooth rock wall, beaten by the river in times of flood. Body aching with effort she threw her satchel down on the platform, and fell down next to it.
She was too tired to cry. She was too tired to make a fire, too tired to eat. With dull resignation she crawled to the edge of the pond. Have a few mouthfuls of water, then sleep, she thought. It was the best she could do for herself.
To her surprise the water was warm, and she realised she had come upon one of the hot springs the area was famous for. This was a wonderful stroke of good luck. These hots springs were touted for their restorative powers. Perhaps they would also bring clarity to her adled mind.
She hastily threw off her clothes, and stepped into the spring. She was shaky and uncertain of her footing, but after a clumsy moment she managed to get herself seated so she was fully immersed, just her head out of the water.
Reason began to return. It was then she noticed she had landed in a place where she could not run to take off. Her eyes darted all around her looking for a way she might climb up the ravine wall. Nothing, no hand or foot holds. Rejoining the river and letting the flow take her further down was not an option. She would be crushed up against the jagged rocks and there were many waterfall drops. She would be pounded under the weight of the water.
She held her face in her hands and began to cry. She was cornered by her own stupidity.
After some time she could cry no more. Her mind returned to thoughts of escape. There had to be a way out of here. She looked again at the walls surrounding her, perhaps she had missed something. She got out of the spring and put her clothes on to have a closer look.
She inspected every section of wall. It was wet and slippery and there were no sharp edges. This area obviously became of funnel for water in heavy rains, as the rock was worn smooth. She checked the entry way, perhaps she could climb the creeper, but it fell away in her hands, dropping to the river below.
She sat down next to her satchel. She rubbed her tired eyes. They felt swollen, so she closed them and listened to the noises around her. Water, the crashing heavy sound of water. Then overlaid on this the messages, further in the distance but still discernible. A mass of different sounds, words interwoven and competing for attention. There was nothing there that could help her but she was heartened that for the first time she could hear something of the messages.
If only she had learned to take off with a couple of steps. She had tried many times. In fact the night she was attacked she had decided to go to a clearing she knew and practice.
There was no-one she could ask to show her. The only man she knew who could fly was her attacker. She was not about to call for his help.
It was then that it occurred to her. The tracker might be able to fly. He had been sleeping many miles from the village in the cave, perhaps he had flown there? To add to this clue was also the mystery of the market. How he had been behind her and then in front of her in the matter of a moment?
So if he could fly, perhaps he could help her. She decided to ask.
She had once before sent a message on the wind, to the physician who had helped her when she was wounded. In her haste to leave she had not thanked him, so she had sent a message from her heart on the night breeze. She had no idea he had received it but felt a certain peace come over her. Perhaps an unloading of her conscience or maybe she had actually done it.
She grabbed the jasmine oil from her satchel and dabbed a little on her wrists. She hoped this might help him find her. It was a hopeless gesture, she really did not know how these messages worked.
Standing out near the entrance she pushed the creepers aside. A cool gust jumped up at her feet, thrust up by waves tumbling into one another from the river below. Hopefully this would be enough.
She thought of him, looking at her in the cave, she felt his hand on her scar, she heard his rough voice explaining they could not talk out in the open. I need your help, she whispered, surprised and embarrassed by the emotion in her voice she withdrew to the inner platform.
Now she had to wait. She unraveled the blanket and laid it on a dry patch of the platform. She laid down using the satchel for a pillow, and pulled her traveling robes close to her.
She went to sleep.
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