Who will Arise?

Chapter 5 & 6

Chapter Five

Some are born great, some achieve greatness, and some have greatness thrust upon them. William Shakespeare

Z e b b a h

They trudged out of the sandy basin and down the dune on the other side again. Initially, Zebbah didn't know what to make of the boy's arrival the day before. He was like the other visitors from earth in some ways, yet so very different in others. He displayed a certain confidence; though some would probably see it as arrogance. He'd need it for what lay ahead, Zebbah thought.

Zebbah had noticed the concealed distress when Gersha first introduced him, though he had to give the boy credit for his effort to mask it with that frown of his. He could see that the only thing on Quinn's mind had been to get out of there; to find his way home. Still, when Zaqi had extended her hospitality, the boy accepted with grace and patience. It showed strength of character, a willingness to put the needs of others before his own. He sensed that Quinn was accustomed to making his own way, though he knew from listening at dinner last night that he lived with his parents.

Just now under the karsop trees Zebbah had beheld a young man fighting a war in his mind, his heart. It was in moments like that—when a man could choose the easier path, but opts to go the other way—that he takes his first steps towards walking in his purpose. Quinn had opted to accept his challenge and stay in Zoay for now. It had not been an easy choice, but he knew it had been the right one. Zebbah did not presume to know why the boy had to remain a while, but he knew there was something in Zoay for him.

He also knew Quinn needed to hear the Tree People's story from him. He'd make it short. They could be done with it before they reached the river again. It began much like Quinn himself had observed about them last night: close knit family, caring, hardworking...

He went on telling Quinn about the water. How, when it became clear that the poison in the water was not just a problem of a passing nature, it started stirring fear in some of the Tree People.

"Everyday things that we used to be take for granted, things we thought insignificant, started changing and, with it, our blissful existence. The repercussions of the poisoned source were like a small pebble tossed into a calm pond— a ripple effect circling outwards to infinity. First, we had to search for new, safe water sources. For generations before that, we had gotten our own water right there from the river next to Tibay; whenever and how ever much we desired. These days we have to form teams to help haul all the massive containers, which also had to be newly made, back to Tibay."

Zebbah's tale continued as he talked about one of the many treats the Tree People loved: the berries from the garra bush. "It was bountiful on the banks, close to the mouth of the river and the purple dotted clusters could be spotted from the mountains." Zebbah closed his eyes for an instant. "They smelled like paradise. We had never known there to be a shortage of garra berries. They had been popular for generations, because of the many ways in which they could be utilized. We crushed them for juice, dried them, stewed them...To me they were best enjoyed right from the shrub. Zaqi could go on about all the other uses: a potion for breathing difficulties, an ointment that relieved insect bites, perfume and dye for clothes, art and crafts. They were precious to us."

His gaze turned in the direction of the ocean. "You might have spotted the withered remains from the mountain when you arrived. It is now just about the only evidence that garra bushes ever existed. Zaqi has been experimenting with some of the few seeds we had left, to see if we could get it to grow elsewhere, but so far without success."

It harder than he thought to tell this tale, Zebbah thought grimly. And he'd only brushed the surface. The story of the Tree People's future became more grim with every step they took. The boy was so immersed in it that he barely seemed to notice his feet sinking into the sand or the sweat forming on his brow and matting his mop of hair. Zebbah thought back just a few hours when Quinn had been whining like a child, wailing to go home. The change had been instantaneous. Once he had made the decision to stay, he was attentive and focused. Zebbah didn't know the boy at all, but his commitment was warming.