With the agility of youth he caught his balance, danced to a
more solid footing. For a moment he sat down, grinned at the
incident as he gazed over the edge of the precipice that might
have welcomed him. He picked up a pebble, tossed it over the
rim, watched and listened as it careened downward from ledge to
ledge. He shook his head.
"Could have been me."
He grinned, tossed another pebble. It rattled down the
surfaced, bounced outward.
"No, no way, not me."
He leaned back for a moment, relaxed in the warming rays of the
sun, filtered at times by the gathering clouds.
He rubbed his ankle, winced at the pain. "Well, not broken. I
think I'll cut a staff. Too bad. May slow me."
Even as he fashioned the staff his thoughts wandered. He
thought the deep, deep thoughts of youth. The concerns for
tomorrow. His search for a goal beyond the hunting and fishing
of his daily life. His companions had gone diverse ways. Some
were now merchants, others farmers, a few followed the sea. Some
very few had disappeared into the wilds, destined to join outlaw
bands. Perhaps he should become, as his Father, a farmer.
To plow the fields, plant, and watch the harvest grow. Marry
and raise a family.
"Mother would like that. She would favor Theresa. And I do like
her. "
He put his weight on the staff, walked back and forth. The
ankle was swollen, ached, but he would manage.
His thoughts once more returned to the future.
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