Three days after finding the mask I woke up with a shiver. It was the tail end of April and the mornings were heavy with dew and still somewhat chilly. I rolled out of my sleeping bag and could see my breath in the air as I took a deep breath and exhaled. I rubbed my hands together and breathed on them and then pulled my clothes from the bottom of the sleeping bag where I'd stuck them to keep them toasty for just this reason.
I walked over to the dead fire, blew a few inches of ash out of the center, and poked a stick deep into the burnt-out pit. Swirling the poker around and blowing I found the coals that were hidden beneath the charred ruins of yesterday's fire. Picking up the left over wood from the outer edges of the fire circle, I set one fresh piece of wood in the middle, and then set them down on all four sides with their burnt ends facing the new log. I threw some smaller stuff on top and then bent over and blew on the coals. A minute later I had a nice flame which I fed some twigs and small branches. The fire pit came back to life. Crouching down I took out my bugler pouch and removed the makings. After rolling my cigarette I stuck it between my lips and picked up a branch from the fire to lit one end. I stood by the fire warming up and puffing on my smoke. When I was halfway through my cigarette I took some twigs and tinder that I always kept stored under a corner of the wood pile in case it rained and sat it in the center of a small bowl shaped indention in the stone wall of one of the giant rocks that we were camped out in. I took a long hard draw on the cigarette, causing the cherry at the end to double in size, and then I stuck the cigarette under the pyramid of twigs and bark fluff and watched it spring to life in a small flame. Using my trusty e-tool (a military grade folding shovel/axe) I scooped some coals as well as a couple fist size smouldering chunks to drop on top of the twigs and tinder. Snapping a handful of thin branches I sat them on the small fire and watched it grow. I poured water into the percolator and filled the basket with fresh coffee grounds then dropped it back inside the tin pot, closed the lid, and sat it on the cook fire to start perking. breaking branches must have woke my companions because they were both rustling around in their sleeping bags. A half an hour or so later, after a quick and dry breakfast, we sat around sipping coffee, smoking and talking about what we wanted to do with our day. I stood up and walked over to the rock where I had sat the mask the night before. It was not there. I searched on the ground near the rock, and all around the camp. I looked in my bags, my companions bags, and out near the shore even though I knew there was no way wind could have blown it that far through the giant stones. It was gone. Confused about the loss of the mask, and still wondering why I had found it in the first place, I decided that it was time to send Edward back to the rest of his family in town and then take a day or two of solitude to sort out these events and what they meant for me. I have been back to the area many times, including the cave and its hidden altar room, all to no avail. I have never laid eyes on the mask again.
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December 2018
AuthorWriter, nature lover, poet, pagan, occultist and blogger. Categories
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