Tunnel of Love
Zurak had been forced to wait all winter to see the cave;
once it had been found the entire tribe decided it would be safer to explore
after the spring thaw. Even though she
knew they were right, the waiting had been anguish so Zurak was being impatient
with her family. After being on her own
for so long, the Wanderer still found it difficult sometimes to allow for the
needs of other people.
But she needed to see the cave with her own eyes; Zurak had
to find the Well of Provenance so that she could claim it for Elune and finish
her quest. Now her whole family was on
the same quest, they had joined their lot to Zurak’s and embraced the moon
goddess as she did. Zurak had told her
new family every Wanderer story she could remember since she had joined them,
she told them over and over so that the stories would not be lost after she was
gone.
Zurak did not fool herself though, she knew that the
Wanderers were not meant to continue; it was not the will of the Goddess. Her family’s blood would get lost in time,
buried deeply in the bloodlines of the monkey people and few would remember the
White Wanderers.
But Elune would remember, the moon goddess would never
forget the people that she made. Elune
had given the Wanderers life and purpose and Zurak wanted to give her the Golden Land Golden Land
The entrance to the cave was very small, just a passage
between large boulders that didn’t look like much from the outside. Churashom found it because he had been
looking for the source of a large stream that seemed to spring out of
nowhere. But the source of the stream
was buried behind the rocks and Zurak’s brave husband had figured that out, had
gone looking and found the cave.
Caves called out to Wanderers like kinfolk, Zurak’s people
were never afraid of the darkness of stone vaults even though caves held many
dangers. But Wanderers went into every
cave they could find, leaving their messages for the other Wanderers and
imprinting the Earth with their essence.
Churashom went through the small opening first to help the
others in; Zurak practically pushed her husband down in her rush to get
inside. Fortunately, Churashom was an
even tempered man, carefully helping his wife and chuckling at her eagerness. They were a group of six for this outing, the
three men who regularly explored plus Zurak and two of the slimmer tribe
members. Cave passages could be tight
and Churashom’s young cousins were excited to help with this important mission.
The lit torches were being passed through the opening and
orange-tinged shadows flowed on the walls around Zurak. The echoing sounds of the explorers told
Zurak that the chamber was quite big; she felt around in the dim to put her
hands on the stone surface, as though she could not believe it until she felt
the rock herself. She heard Churashom
and Nohalik; the younger brother was staying outside the cave in case of
trouble, as they transferred the rest of the ropes and torches.
This first large chamber was the only part Churashom had
seen when he found the cave, Zurak could hear the water running but none of it
was in the first chamber. She kept
leaning farther and farther away from the group, anxious to go in deeper, even
as Churashom grasped her arm gently to make her wait. Finally, her husband was satisfied with his
safety precautions and smiled lovingly at Zurak.
“Let us look Pretty Milk,” he said with a smile, using his
favorite name for Zurak.
She did not need to be told twice and the exploration officially
started. Even though she wanted to run
towards the sound of the water, Zurak forced her feet to go slowly and with
care. She had not seen the Well of
Provenance in her vision, just the three chambers, but wells were full of
water, so it was the sound of water that she followed.
Soon the sound of rushing water was all they could hear as
they made their way towards the back of the chamber. The party was forced to stop at the back wall
where the water was flowing from a small tunnel down through the rocks and
beneath the chamber. They all stood
around it with their torches trying to peer into the blackness of the tunnel,
but it was impossible to tell how far back it went.
“I am sorry Pretty Milk,” Churashom said softly, “we can go
no further.”
Zurak’s head whipped around of its own volition, she rarely
argued with Churashom, rarely had reason to be angry with him. But he was willing to give up and she was
not. He and his family did not know how
to swim; it was not their custom to invade the watery provinces of churlish
gods. Wanderers were practically born on
the water and were taught how to flee from Tidalus’ wrath as babies; Zurak was
not going to let Tidalus stop her now.
“I’m going,” Zurak snapped as she pulled off her clothes,
“tie the rope around me. I’m going,” she
said once more with a firm look at Churashom.
Her husband sighed heavily and began to remove his clothes
too, “We are going Pretty Milk, you do not wander alone anymore.”
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