The Birth of Magic 2.2

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He was ready, ready to be on his way. Ready to work with the growing, ready to go to Clarity again, ready to see what was coming.
With the rising sun, as its full light fell on Terrace, Branch walked from home, the road through forest and mountain, over river and through valleys lay ahead. Two weeks, if he walked the whole way, there were other ways of travel, but he didn’t have a full understanding of them. They wouldn’t work for him yet. For a moment he entertained the idea of learning them, it was only for a moment, he had barely begun to understand the growing.
The first part of his journey would be easy, for a few days he would walk through the intermingling forests of north and southern influences. Where evergreen and broadleafed trees shared roots, sun and earth, the road was flat and easy walking, padded by fallen needles and leaves, surrounded by life and growth. A great river cut through the Timberlands and he would have to cross it, he could either walk north, toward the Rangforne mountains, or south into the wilds of the Forest of Lament. A bridge had once been built across the river, but a furious storm had destroyed it.
One day, when he had the time, and spare energy he would go there, and rebuild it. A mason mage could do that, though he wasn’t sure if he could continue to refer to himself that way, for now he would. ‘A man is, what he is.’ His mentor’s voice echoed in the saying.
The morning truly was a fresh, beautiful day, where it started crisp and quickly found a comfortable motion, a welcoming temperament, it was the kind of day that ushered someone along. He felt like he was being pulled, maybe by the day, or wants, or excitement, or…he didn’t know. He felt pulled though. It was a deep thing, in the pit of his stomach, or mind, or thoughts. That was the thing with a feeling, it was hard to place. To pick the spot where it belonged. It seemed to belong…everywhere.
He walked, nearly running, and didn’t realize it, it felt good, to flow through the forest. Between tree and root, under branch and through morninglight. When the day was just beginning, and fresh, that was Branch’s favorite time to walk through the forest. He could feel everything waking up, awaiting the day, ready for the sunlight and wind and whatever else came that way. Like, it was enough to simply experience the morning, and it greetings. He focused on maintaining a feel of lightness, light body, light thoughts, light steps.
It was nearly midday when he found his thoughts again. Sometimes, on long journeys, he would send them off on their own. With a small task to keep and seek. Like staying light and careless.

#writerofage

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