By G.R. Nanda
“Fear flooded Father Hawk.”
“He stopped trembling from anger because now he was trembling out of fear.”
“It was like a sharp bar of ice– a long icicle that plummeted on him, piercing him from his head to his gut.”
“His eyes were wide with fear. He stood in one spot, transfixed at the sight of the huntsman who was hovering above him in the sky.”
“There was no escape. These were the huntsman’s lands.”
“His whole life, Fathe Hawk thought that the universe belonged to him– that he was free to roam and see all that he pleased.”
“He thought that he had seen all and therefore he knew all.”
“The more time he spent in these canyons, the more he was realizing that he didn’t know as much as he thought and that he couldn’t see as much as he thought.”
“‘I know that look,’ said the huntsman in his booming voice that shook the canyon walls. ‘It’s the look of fear I see whenever I stand over my prey open for the strike.’ “
“‘But what I wonder is why you are angry. That is not something I see in the animals of these canyons often. The rest of them are too busy being afraid and running away to be angry or to scream at the sky.’”
“‘Well, most of them don’t want to call my attention.’”
“Father Hawk opened his mouth, wanting to shout. Do or say anything defiant. He had to voice his strength. He would not submit.”
“Instead, all that came out was mumbling and moaning.”
“The huntsman frowned.”
“‘Who………are you?’ he asked. ‘What is your story and how does it bring you here in this state?’”
“Trembling, Father Hawk’s feet gave away; he walked backwards slightly and he slipped over smooth stones. He planted his palms on the ground, catching himself. He gulped a large breath of air and scurried to his left. Without looking up, Father Hawk rushed to the wall and its many pits and recesses looming ahead of him.”
“‘Why do you run?’ thundered the huntsman. ‘Fleeing is futile before me!’”
“‘The more you run and run and run and run away–’’
“There was a loud rippling noise, like the shaking and vibrating of twin suns sent across the universe. It was followed by a crash as the sound of a thunderclap emerged, followed by ricocheting and the crumbling of many rock ledges towering high above.”
“Father Hawk flinched and fell on his back in time to see the lasso that was in the huntsman’s hands, extending out over the heavens, licking the rock tops in its wake. As it retracted, it sent rubble raining down the wall above Father Hawk like snow.”
“-the more my hunt advances!” continued the huntsman. “The more you leave me no other choice!”
“Father Hawk found a corner in the wall: dark, crowded and over boulders and rubble leading into a tight cave of darkness.”
“There was another whip, beginning with a vibration and followed by the crack and thundering of broken, crashing rubble.”
“‘You cannot escape!’”
“Father Hawk got caught in the narrow space between pieces of rock, but he clawed at it so hard that it broke off and he scuttled deeper, furiously. All the while, the canyon walls and the rock of the runnel were vibrating furiously.”
“‘Your size aids you, hawk!’ shoute the huntsman. But just for now! I’m too big to crawl after you, but these are the canyons I’ve known for eons and eons!”
“‘The constellations are ever present and ever-watching. They are my dominion……I am the constellations……………”
“His voice died away in echoes that rebounded far far away. Father Hawk was now deep into the recess of the wall he climbed into.”
“He was panting and he soon became too busy to keep crawling across the jagged rocks. He stopped and his sight blurred. His whole body throbbed and stung with the force of zooming across rough rock.”
“His feathers were torn and bent. His legs were chafed and scratched by the rock. They also trembled. His knees buckled and he lay panting on the floor.”
“As his head lay on the bumpy rock, his feathers became drenched. Father Hawk peered around him and noticed water droplets clinging to the rocks everywhere. He looked up and saw strings of streaming water faintly pouring down rock in the darkness.”
“The water was cool and felt good against him. It made some of the pain lessen.”
“His head was throbbing painfully, but it subsided slowly and slowly. Father Hawk could now hear better. However, his ears still rang with the crashing and breaking rock from outside. And he still heard crashes. He couldn’t tell whether they were echoes of his mind or actual crashes.”
“But he could hear something else now. Something that he could hear more and more with every passing second. It was the trickling and gurgling of water beyond the dark tunnel he was in.”
“There was something else out there. Something………….wetter and………………bigger.”
“It was behind him, farther down the tunnel. Father Hawk grunted and got on his feet. Fear– fear of the tunnels and fear of what was beyond the tunnel mixed inside of him and created a bursting energy.”
“Curiosity soon joined the mix and Father Hawk soon found himself in a trance where he was stumbling forward, fearful, but controlled by an inevitability that he couldn’t understand.”
“The gurgling became louder. The further down the slope of rocks he went, the more the water streamed downwards until Father Hawk felt like he was walking down a river.”
“Slivers of light appeared at the edges of streaming water: little white and silver strains. They grew brighter the further down Father Hawk moved.”
“A small circular opening was illuminated out of the lower depths, showing the end of the tunnel to Father Hawk.”
“The light was coming from there, however faintly. A thin beam was coming out of the opening.”
“The beam entered the pool and danced in little slivers wherever there were ripples. Drops of water were falling down from where the beam came.They fell down and made quiet “plops” and rippled outwards in circles. Father Hawk stepped ever closer to the end of the tunnel. He had walked over several steep piles of jagged rock and was now traversing a smoother embankment that was a few feet away from the rock arch.”
“The water was the loudest it had ever been. Father Hawk’s claws were stepping further into the water, submerging his skinny legs in the cold.”
“He puffed out his feathers and held his wings high across his body. He was already moving into something hawks weren’t supposed to move into: water. He might as well make sure his feathers didn’t get wet.”
“Light glimmered across the pool in thinning lines and in even smaller lines across the water in the tunnel. The archway was directly above Father Hawk. Water dropped from its jagged surface and spilled on Father Hawk’s head and wings, slightly wetting his feathers.”
“He immediately squeezed his eyes and puffed his wings in close over his head. Entering through the archway, Father Hawk saw that the cavern was a lot bigger than he had thought before.”
“What more? The beam of light was coming from a pocket in the roof far up above. But where was that light coming from if it was nighttime? Father Hawk didn’t know.”
“A tall mound of rock stuck up out of the water behind the beam of light. There was a ledge that stuck out of the mount around the middle where there were tufts of drenched-looking fur, some leaves, cracked skeletons of tiny creatures and what looked like dried up and chewed pieces of meat.”
“At the very top of the mound on a smooth and tiny surface, jutting out of the ever thinning rock was a small patch of what looked like dirt. On top of that was a single lonely flower. Even in the darkness, the petals’ bright color shone fiercely.”
“Father Hawk stopped wading through the water to admire the strangeness of a flower growing deep in the depths of canyons.”
“The flower was thin and looked slightly stooped over.”
“Father Hawk moved closer towards the mount, sloshing through the water, faster than before.”
“The feathers of his bottom quickly drenched and he jumped back, causing bigger ripples in the pool.”
“There was a snarl that sounded from ahead. Father Hawk froze in fear.”
“A dark mass moved out from behind the mound. It was slow and stealthy. Suddenly, it crept forward, paws first, followed by its long, muscly and furry legs. It jumped onto the lower ledge of the mound, pushing a skeleton and its bones off the ledge and revealing itself to be the coyote it was.”
“The bones plopped in the water, causing a small splash.”
G.R. Nanda 