Arle’s Story – The First Steps

“I am singer of songs and a player of hearts” thought Arle as he packed the few belongings he cared to take with him into the rucka he had appropriated from the storage shells.

Into the pack went 2 changes of clothes. There was a set for common daily wear as well as a ceremonial outfit for such occasions as might demand formal dress. On top of the clothing Arle laid a simple bowl, a notebook full of pristine pressed linen pages, 3 writing canes and a small packet containing pictures of those dearest to his heart. As he placed the pictures carefully to avoid damaging them a small sigh escaped his lips. He ran his fingers quickly through his hair in a nervous gesture and then glanced around the room.

“I’d better pack up my altar as well,” Arle muttered to himself. “If I leave it here it will be neglected at best and more likely it will grace the rubbish heap as soon as they figure out I’m gone.” He sighed again, this time his sigh was laden with sadness for a world that seemed to have forgotten the old Path and its Symbols. He wrapped each item lovingly in little bits of cloth and stowed them away in his rucka. Almost as an afterthought, he grabbed up an extra handful of candles and thrust them in as well.

Arle took a last look around the room. He was leaving a lot behind. If he were to be completely honest with himself Arle would admit that he felt some regret about leaving it. For now, however, he chose to focus on looking forward rather than on looking back. There was nothing he could do to change what had been and everything he could do about what was to happen now. As if to underscore the need for focusing on the present, Arle’s stomach rumbled.

“All right,” he said to his complaining belly. “We’ll make sure to pay the kitchen a farewell visit on the way out. Ready Firzt?”

A large brindle dog-like animal rose out of the shadows in the far corner of the room and padded up to Arle. She looked up at him briefly before walking over to the doorway. Once there, she stopped and looked back over her shoulder at Arle with an air of resignation.

“I know. You think I am a fool. And you may be right. If time proves you right, then you have my permission to remind me that you are the wiser.”

Arle crossed the room in two quick strides to stand next to Firzt. He reached out to give her a pat that was really meant to reassure himself. She looked up at him with laughter in her depthless copper-flecked eyes.

“I know,” laughed Arle ruefully. “You don’t need my permission to put me in my place! Let’s go now while the moon is dark and everyone’s asleep.”

Firzt cocked her head questioningly and placed one huge paw on Arle’s chest.

“Yes,” he answered her. “I am sure it’s better to go without a farewell. That would likely lead to discussions that I haven’t the stomach for.”

As they walked out the door together Arle spoke almost apologetically. “They just don’t understand the Path.”