The old man had been away from the Peoples for many years, more years, in fact, than any ordinary man’s life, ever since the ruptures had begun. Too long.

He sat on the rock and looked out at the world below. From his vantage point there was no world above – no physical world at least – for his seat was at the very highest point of the island. He peered forwards and his eyes scanned the lands below.

It was taking a long time and he wondered whether he had stretched his powers too far; whether they were fading as he himself was fading. There was not much time now. Not much time for the Peoples but also not much time for him.

He had sent out his calls – a sense of adventure in the waters of the mountain streams, kindness through the vibration of the soils, curiosity via the electric bolts that flow from air to ground and bravery carried by the winds. Now all he could do was wait.

A few days previously, looking almost to the edge of the land far to the west, he had seen a great cloud of smoke emerge with the unmistakeable orange glow of fire beneath it. Something was happening down there and he wondered whether this was the beginning.

But he could not know.

All he could do was sit, gazing out on the four lands below him as he had done for so much of the time since he had come away, up into the high lands to the great mountain at the very core of the island. He had done all he could. It was up to others now.

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Next: Chapter 1 – Fire Chase
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