Pursued - Entire book

Chapter 26

The next two days were as unsuccessful as the first. The wagons rattled into the forest each day and Klair accompanied them. While men would log during the day, Klair sat on the forest floor. He studied the trees trying to determine how to combat the plague. Each day they would move to a different section of the woods in an attempt to stay ahead of the tide of infestation.

On the third day, Klair sat away from the others and went into a deep trance while touching an infected tree.

An arm shook him. He ignored it.

In his mind's eye, Klair followed the trail of the worm as it ate at the trunk of the tree.

The shake on his arm became more forceful. Klair looked up bewildered. Kerrida and Poral stood over him.

"Are you ok?" Kerrida asked. "You're sweating."

Klair shrugged. Why couldn't they leave him alone to try to solve the problem? He was surprised at his own persistence. A thought of his mother explained why. Though not present, he knew he wanted to please her.

"Fine. Are we leaving?"

Kerrida shook his head. "No, we were just wor—"

"Let me know when we leave." Klair closed his eyes to continue his concentration."

Klair felt the two stood over him watching for a moment, before turning away.

The woodsmen worked hard throughout the day. Klair eventually finished his own task and returned to the camp site. During the afternoon break, he sat away from the others.

Kerrida walked over. "What are you thinking?" he asked.

Klair looked up, smiling a strained greeting as his friend sat down beside him. The man extended a piece of cooked Gnu. Klear shook his head. Shouldn't the man know by now he couldn't eat with all the stench in the forest? Norms were lucky they couldn't smell as easily.

The meat supply of Gnu was sparse even here, so he could imagine the price of buying it. Who knew why the migrations were so erratic.

His friend sighed.

Klair picked up a stick and shoved it into the soft undergrowth of the forest floor. "I haven't been able to determine why previously cut wood discourages the worm from infecting it." Klair looked intently at his friend. He lowered his voice in a conspiring tone. "I've actually made contact with a worm and was able to stop it."

Kerrida sat straight. "That's great!"

Klair shook his head. "It isn't."

He breathed, threading his fingers through disheveled hair. The dark locks, without the aid of husks or mud to hide them, had returned to their familiar silky sheen. Klair felt embarrassed adding mud now. Some of the townspeople would even casually wave at him as he accompanied the woodcutters out into the forest each day.

"How did you do it? Stop the worm?"

Klair began scratching his scalp. "Remember how the parched desert acts after a hard rain storm? The sun bakes it and dries it quickly and it cracks the surface?" He recalled a moment in his childhood. He and his mother once traveled across an area of parched land. The cracks seemed to stretch forever. Some of the gnu trail had areas of a great expanses of dry earth lined with cracked ground and shards of clay. He remembered how the brittle soil, crunched beneath his boots.

There hadn't been evidence of life for nearly a half a day of travel. Though they carried water skins, it required the constant pull of youthful will to not ask his mother for another drink. The barren circumstances reminded him of an infected tree.