A Rest at the Edge of the World by Jow
John stands with the palm of his hand resting on his sword’s pommel. It stays sheathed for the moment at his side. He looked out over the falling sun at the cliff’s edge.
“These eating meetings have been going good lately. Especially with our new member.” Rob knows he has been referenced, and nods slightly under his drooping cloak, absently closing his hand over his short staff. Josh brings up the rear, leading a lame packmule that is grunting and sighing heavily in the choppy wind.
“We stand upon a threshold,” continues John. “I will soon need to journey East, towards the Saigon. A year, more, or less, I will be. Another must take up the mantle as Host to the eating meetings. A burden I would wish on no one.”
Jason stands forward. “I will take the burden. This last eating meeting at the Mexican place was delicious. The Pastor things were the best I have tasted—”
“The waitress even put my extra food in The Doggy Bag for me!” Yelled Josh through the wind.
Jason, abruptly cut off, turned inward to John.
“I will take your burden,” he intoned, his eyes flashing deeply. John, the old stalwart warrior, gave him a thumbs up. Jason held a small bag of bones in a pouch at his waist. He pulled out a random bone. A small hollow shell. “Turtle. A good sign. Your journey will be virtuous, John of the Uhclah clan.”
Rob stepped forward, pointing into the distance with his staff. “Soon the Matrix will be upon us. We must all be there to witness it. In the great deepness of the Blu.” John turned from the cliffside and faced the others.
“We will witness the Matrix on the day of the Sun’s fall. We will tarry here no longer, it is dangerous outside here in Dragon Country.”
Josh produced a switch and slapped the mule’s hide into the necessary direction. The beast tallied no longer and headed down the backside of the mountain.
