Salt: A Ninjago story

57: Longwave

Nat's new home had blessed her with solitude. She had a smallholding, just a basic house, not much more than a wind blown shack with a small amount of land to farm vegetables, fruit and some chickens. She had self-sufficiency and silence. It was far enough away from the opposing peak of the Mountain of Impossible Height that she could not hear a single thought from the new inhabitants of the monastery atop, but she was just close enough to see the burnished Gold leaf glint in the sunlight and the flurry of bodies scurrying to and from the Monastery grounds like hard working ants.

A few of the Shadows accepted the freedom they had been given, but many found it difficult to accept; the enforced confinement at The House of Shadows made the transition to a free life almost impossible, but the monastery made them feel safe. Within its walls a new school had formed, where they trained harder than they ever would have at The House of Shadows and learned how to exist without fear. With Sensei Wu as their new enigmatic Master, Nat oversaw their training with the few cryptic words he would offer as guidance. However strange it seemed, the silence of his offering spoke louder than any dictatorial Master from her past but allowed her to find her own voice, one that she could now hear.

Nat taught with a passion that rivalled her own skill and nurtured her students with a sensitivity that could never have developed at the House. She now looked forward to leaving the solitude of her home to be with her students, their thoughts were becoming focussed and clear and she enjoyed hearing what they had to say as they navigated their new life.

It was a clear cool morning and Nat leant against the Ninja Copter to look over to the Monastery in the distance. The sun rose, having waited patiently to impress its power on the world and she imagined the students going about their early morning chores in the Temple courtyard. They would be sweeping the cobbles, installing the training obstacles and preparing for breakfast, things she thankfully did not have to do; she had more than enough to keep her busy at her new home, but this morning she was leaving early. There was a visitor arriving and she wanted to be there to welcome him.

Finishing her flight checks, Nat threw her training bag into the copter and headed back to the house for breakfast. She stopped at the kitchen garden and picked some berries, overloading her hand which she had to hold against her to stop them falling. The smell of coffee welcomed her as she entered the door and she could see it was ready, having filtered through into the jug. She grabbed a bowl from a cupboard and tipped in the berries, which she placed on the small table. Opening the fridge, she took out some yoghurt and chose a jar of cereal from a shelf that she tucked under her arm. She picked up the jug of coffee, teased a mug onto her little finger and took everything to the table. Sitting with a contented sigh she realised she had forgotten a spoon. Slumping her head forward in mild frustration she stood again to fetch it but stopped abruptly at a sudden noise. She stood still, listening. Had it been the chair scraping on the floorboards or was her imagination finding voices in the silence? She moved and again she heard the sound.

'R rr rg h  c r p!'

Straining her mind to listen she found it was far too garbled to be coherent; there was no immediate danger, so went to fetch the spoon and settled back down to eat. With her mind now attuned to the voice, she tucked in and waited to hear more.

...

Cole had been hiking for the best part of a day. He had taken transport early to the last village at the base of the Mountain of Impossible Height with a view to taking a couple of days climbing in the area before ascending to the Monastery. As he headed to the craggy climbs of the Southern face he made the impulsive decision to take the lower path. He had come upon a way marker and the name upon it drew him in a new direction. The route would guide him around the base of the Mountain and beyond, to the next valley and the monumental vertical faces of The Three Sisters, their name, fitting for the only inhabitant to take up residence in this far-flung part of the world. The mountain range was treacherous, not a place many climbers chose, but he wasn't any old climber. He had a rapport with the earth and rock; it both guided him and held him close. This climb would be tough, but it would be worth it. He hoped.