The hiker stepped out of the shimmering heat into the cool forest shadow. He breathed the fragrant air deeply and smiled to himself. He had set his eyes on this cleft, where the mountainside fell like rippled curtain, hours earlier. The lush greenery nestled there, which stood in stark contrast to the rocky shrubland that covered most of the surrounding mountains, suggested to him a cool place to rest and a likely spot to find water.
The locals had warned him off this area. They had told him not to go wandering off alone, that only thirst and starvation awaited him out here in the canyons.
As evidence, they told of how, only a month previous, an old man, so emaciated by thirst and hunger that he could barely support his own weight, had been discovered out here by a local herder. The man was wasted beyond anything they had seen before, and completely out of his mind. All they could get out of him was some mixed up nonsense about running backwards through water.
The hiker shrugged it off as a folktale, used more to entertain the tourists and heighten their sense of adventure than to properly ward them off. He had not even bothered to ask them what had become of the old man, it was so clearly a fabrication. Certainly, no one had tried to stop him when he set off on his hike, backpack loaded with several days worth of supplies.
He had found, to his chagrin, that the rocky mountains passes were, as he had been warned, treacherous. He also had to admit they had been right about the scarcity of water. He had been hiking only two days and, while his food was in good supply, his water was running dangerously low. He was just starting to panic when he had spotted the thin green ribbon of life that changed everything. It would have been invisible had he not happened to look down at just the right time as he was traversing a high ridge between canyons.
Now he stood, triumphant, at the edge of a verdant forest that he doubted any of the cowardly locals even knew about.
He took out his water bottle and shook it. The thin layer of water resting on the bottom sloshed pathetically. He was thirsty, but the thought of the hot brackish water in his mouth discouraged him from drinking. He knew there had to be water nearby. He could feel it.
Once he stepped into the forest, he stood there a while, allowing his eyes to adjust to the sudden gloom. When he shifted his boots he no longer heard the rasp of dry gravel, but rather the soft squish of muddy earth loosely partially covered by fallen leaves.
He turned his head this way and that, hearing the wind caressing the trees. With his eyes closed, and his concentration focused, he began to discern the faintest difference in the sounds around him. In the brief moments, where the wind stilled, the susurration actually continued. His eyes snapped open and he smiled when he realised he had picked out the more musical notes of running water.
He could see further ahead now, although his eyes still felt like an overexposed film. He trod cautiously into the forest, somehow feeling like an intruder in a sacred place. Yet, the now audible trickle of water, which his mind had separated from the other tracks of forest sounds around him, drew him forward. The rawness of his throat, he knew, would only be satisfied by sweet, cool water from a mountain stream.
In a short time he had left the brightness of day behind. His eyes were now used to the gentle green tinted light that filtered between the leaves above. He stepped lightly, even taking consideration not to tread on the delicate mosses that grew underfoot.
There was no path, but there was also no underbrush, though the tree trunks grew thickly, and he was able to make his own way through the forest. He saw no signs of life, beyond the flitting of small birds in the foliage above and the occasional lazy buzz of insects. He might have been the first man to walk in this forest in a thousand years.
He used his ears to constantly redirect himself, homing in on the sound of the water, which grew louder with each passing moment.
At last, he came upon it. Rounded, tumbled rocks, covered in lichen bordered a gentle stream of water. It gurgled playfully, leaping and dancing around rocks. Dividing and joining back with itself around obstacles, or flowing over them in capricious abandon.
He dumped the contents of his water bottle and dropped to his knees to fill it. Then, thought better of it, and scooped the crisp water up, dumping it over his head and neck and letting it run over his face. The coolness set his skin to tingling. He tasted the water in his hands and, as he expected, it was pure and sweet on his tongue.
He dropped to all fours and put his face into a gap between the rocks. He sucked thirstily at the water, feeling the coolness run over his tongue and caress the ache in the back of his throat. He drank and drank, more than he would have thought possible, until he could practically hear the water sloshing inside him. Then he filled his canteen, stoppered it and sat back on a rock, with his back to a tree, feeling pleased with himself.
Quite possibly he fell asleep, because he felt some time har passed when he sat up next. A shadow had fallen across his closed eyelids. Or had he dreamed it? He looked up stream, but could see nothing now. The shifting of the dappled light filtering through the trees above constantly made new patterns and highlights on the murky world he now inhabited.
He shook himself, and took out a snack to eat while he contemplated. In the direction he now looked he could definitely hear a deeper rumble from the water. Had he heard that before? Perhaps he had been too focused on the stream to observe it.
The light, too, seemed to change in that direction, growing dimmer. He felt uneasy. Yet, he was out here to explore, was he not? Where others would be put off, the hiker had made it his mission to investigate.
After brushing the crumbs of his meal from his clothes and another sip of his water, he rose, slung his backpack over one shoulder and began to trudge upstream.
In a short time he found, again, one of the mountain's intimidating cliff faces. This time it was an overhanging wall that halted the lateral forest growth abruptly, and disappeared into the treetops above.
The river ran along this, seemingly, impenetrable boundary for a short distance and then disappeared under a shelf of rock. He could not have fitted his arm in the narrow space, yet he knew there had to be more to it. He could now definitely hear the thundering of what must be a waterfall nearby. It had to be just on the other side of the rock wall.
He kicked at a damp clod of earth with one booted toe. The hiker looked around. He had time. It was early afternoon yet and he had enough supplies to stay outdoors for several days if he wanted. In addition to this, he now had a source of water. Besides, he was fit and young, barely out of his teens. He had plenty of endurance and a world to discover.
He ran his hand over the rock face. It came back wet and gritty.
