THE ANCIENT PATH

By Tessa Harvey

CHAPTER TWO

Freefalling was not going to happen, thought Gabe, trying not to panic as he threw himself sideways.

It was a rough landing , but apart from scraped skin and some bruising, he was unharmed.

He sat still for a while, shaken, assessing what had just happened. It was not yet late so Gabe decided to press on, crest the top and return to Jim's for the night.

It seemed a good idea not to camp out. Just below the summit was a dip in the hills where a beautiful small lake nestled.

Gabe recalled the name of the clear reflecting pool. It was an old Norse word 'tarn' meaning 'tear'. Crags, grey and rugged, soared around the tarn.

In a further hour, the young man had rested a while on the summit, placing a small rock on the cairn or group of marker stones, as was the custom in these parts. He liked the idea of crags having tears.

On his return journey, he passed Geoff and Angel's house windows lit against the gathering gloom. Gabe smiled as he travelled past, and was back at Jim's before full dark.

"Hi son", greeted the old man, cheerfully enough. "Some folks asking about you."

Gabe was puzzled.