Chapter 23

The wind rocked Haledon, sending him stumbling. As his feet shuffled through the snow, he threw out his arms, catching himself before he toppled. The instinctual reaction gave him his balance at a moment's notice but sacrificed the little heat he had generated in his core. Haledon's body began to vibrate again as he pulled his arms back in to protect his chest, but the cold had already won.

Through his chattering teeth and stiff limbs, Haledon knew he should have already succumbed to the exposure. But Sparrow's alterations to the Shaman Tree's dream of the desert made it impossible to leave, even in the most deadly situations. So he would have to suffer the bitter chill of the barren terrain until his test was completed.

It had been a day since Sparrow departed, leaving Haledon to prove his knowledge. As the sun rose on the second day, he watched as another beautiful dawn painted the sky before his eyes. But, like the morning before, he stood at the center of an endless, icy expanse.

"O-o-okay." He stuttered through quivering lips. "O-obser-observe."

Tucking his hands into his armpits, he spun and looked at the horizon. First, looking to the south, he noticed a snowy hill that formed the slightest bump against the horizon. Just as he looked, a gust kicked up snow between him and the distant feature, making it hard to judge how far away it rested.

He adjusted his gaze to the west, where he noticed a cloud on the horizon from where he had come. Though its amorphous shape had changed, the cloud rested against the same place it had the day before. Haledon stared at it momentarily, wondering if he should backtrack the day to investigate.

As he thought, he looked northward at the empty expanse that went as far as the eye could see. There was nothing there but the ice and wind, chilling Haledon and pushing him to the East.

Haledon stared towards the rising sun, the path he had been following for the last day. With a final look around, he believed any route would provide him a solution. But the feeling of something tugging at his chest finally swayed him to move. Like the leaves of a flower twisting to catch the sun, he felt his body pull towards the east.

He started to march instinctively forward again, his body aching with each step. And as he travelled, the once howling winds began to die down. With only the occasional gust breezing past him, he found himself in periods of relief from the frozen daggers. Haledon took the moments of calm to reach his hand and feel his numb face. Noticing something hard against the edge of his ear, he broke an icy fragment off the hood of his parka.

"W-whoa." He looked at it, inspecting the icicle closely as he walked. Like a sprout from the soil, the ice had grown from his ecosystem.

Haledon wasn't sure how long he had observed the piece of ice, thinking about the heat from his body melting the snow and the wind freezing it again. But when he looked up to see the sun resting around the midmorning mark, he would spend the rest of his time watching the world around him.

"Observe and interact." He recited to himself as he marched, again attentive to his goal. "Design from Nature's experience. Work with—not against—Nature's design."

With a flourish of his hands, he practiced tracing the Druidic runes before himself. But a blast of frigid air forced him to retreat. He pulled his chilled fingers back to his body and tucked his chin and mouth into the parka.

"Catch and store energy." Haledon continued after the wind subsided. As he spoke, his breath condensed into a cloud around him. "Capture energy in perennial systems. Generate a surplus—"

Haledon looked up to the sun and thought about what Sparrow had taught.

"Earth is under constant barrage by solar energy—and this can be converted into life at a cellular level through flora—plants, specifically, through chlorophyll in leaves, allowing photosynthesis. The galaxy is abundant in energy sources, not just light…learn them—master them. Catch energy and generate a surplus."

The night eventually came, and Haledon had walked for another day. He tightened his grip on himself for the night ahead, and as the sun rose on the third day, he would once more stop and closely examine the world around him. Haledon could still see the hill, though now more distant and barely discernible against the horizon. And the cloud still rested behind him, hugging the same spot in the sky. He stared at its odd shape, his mind wandering and again second-guessing his decision to move toward the rising sun. But like the day before, he felt the pull tugging him east.

"Obtain a yield." Haledon would continue to mutter, reciting the Druidic principles. "A yield can be more than food—companionship, happiness, sweat. Everything can generate an output. Worms yield compost, and birds yield music. Layer your ecosystems for maximum yield."

Catching his feet on something in the snow, Haledon tumbled to the ice. He hit hard, hissing in pain as he shifted into a sitting position and rubbed at his knee. He adjusted to look back at the direction he had come. Pushing himself up, he crawled to the loose snow and brushed away enough to reveal a large rock jutting from the ice. Haledon took hold and attempted to free the stone, but his weak hands couldn't secure a firm enough grip. With a forceful tug, he slipped on the snow and fell back to the ground.

Sitting up, he brushed at the granular powder as he tried to dig around the rock. But, as he reached the hardened ice layer beneath, he realized that it was stuck too deeply. He sat there and pondered how to release it before concluding that there was no way of freeing the object without more invasive means.

Not wanting to waste an opportunity, Haledon took advantage of the growing surface as he muttered a phrase in Druidic. With a twist of his wrist, the edge of his leather sleeve began to unravel. It fell to the stone, where moss immediately began to grow. But as quickly as the soft exterior greened, it froze solid.

"Vastum." He muttered, looking at it and then at his exposed hand and wrist

Even though it wasn't enough to escape, Haledon now knew he could sacrifice the organic material of his clothing to make more plants. Still, without a larger surface to grow on, he would never be able to grow what he needed to succeed. He huffed as he stood, scooping the frozen organics and tucking them into his parka. Releasing a yelp as the cold moss chilled his skin, he wrapped his arms around his body again.

"Apply self-regulation and accept feedback," Haledon explained to himself. "See what works, and if it doesn't, understand why. Listen to what Nature tells you. Hubris dooms the Druid."

The days and nights came and went as Haledon walked across the frigid wastes into his fourth day. He felt the hunger stabbing at his stomach and the exhaustion weighing him down. But whenever he sat to rest, sleep never came to him. The wind would howl, blasting cold air against his still frame, chilling his already frozen body. The only comfort he gained was from continuing to walk, and so he did.

On the morning of the fifth day, Haledon inhaled a frigid breath and opened his arms to the east. The sun rose from the horizon, and the warmth of its glow bathed the frozen Druid.

"Use and value renewable resources and services." He muttered. "Land, air, and sea are renewable. The sun rises and brings heat, warming the stone, which slowly releases heat in the sun's absence."

He stood motionless for several minutes, calmed his mind, and allowed the warmth to kiss his face.

"We cannot always protect Nature from others or even itself. But we must always be moving towards regenerating it."

He started walking forward, his mind reaching the sixth principle of Permanent Druidic Culture.

"Produce no waste." He breathed and looked around the landscape. "The six'rees: reduce, rethink, recycle, renew, repair, and refuse—"

The faint sound of a branch snapping caught Haledon's attention. He stopped and scanned the surrounding area, but saw nothing in the early morning light. Turning his attention forward, he could have sworn he saw the pale image of Birchbark in the distance. Before he could get a better look, a thunderous crack echoed around Haledon, and the ground beneath swallowed him.

The world became dark as he began to slide down an icy ramp. The floor quickly disappeared under his leathers, and he suddenly plummeted into a crevasse. His frantic screams echoed throughout the cavern in a cacophony of horror.

Flailing his arms, he anxiously reached into the darkness for something to hold. His hand hit a hard surface, sending a sharp pain through his body and causing him to cry out even louder. He felt the fiery pulsation of agony rushing through his nerves as he reached the fragile limb back out until it was nearly touching the wall racing by.

"Rhizomatous proventus truculenter." He yelled out, touching the opposite hand to the patch of dead moss under his clothes.

Roots raced up Haledon's body and down his arm. They reached his fingers and jumped out, quickly rooting to the wall. Haledon's fall stopped with a horrible popping sound as his arm became locked to the wall.

"Ahg!" He screamed out, tears freezing on his cheeks.

Dangling there motionless, Haledon whimpered in pain as he tried to breathe.

"Aduro pulvis." He muttered as his free hand frantically signalled. Faint blue spores began to pour out of the roots around his bound wrist, illuminating the area.

Haledon looked up to see himself attached to the edge of a stone cliff. Across the large chasm was the glacial body he had been walking on before falling through. Looking up, Haledon could see that the faint surface light was too far away from him to reach. As he tried to gauge how far away he was, spores would drift into his view, like fireflies fading into the distance.

Returning to his arm, he first saw the slowly receding root line. Each spore that illuminated the space took precious organics, transferring its energy into light. Haledon knew he was maintaining his ecosystem on borrowed resources and needed a plan fast. Adjusting his gaze, he saw his mangled hand next. Several broken fingers were twisted or cracked, with the wrist itself being barely held together by the roots.

"Forswyn." He cursed and looked away, the pain worsening upon observation.

"It's just a vision, not a reality." He reminded himself as he looked back at the gore timidly.

Inspecting the roots and wall that held him in place, a sound caught his attention. The rush of flowing water could be heard from beneath him, sending his mind into a fevered race.

"Observe." He mumbled to himself.

Haledon took a free hand and pointed it down into the darkness. With a rub of his fingers and muttering of Druidic, a small glowing pea formed between his thumb and index. Tossing it out, he watched as the brilliant bead arced and plummeted. Eventually hitting the water, the current swept it up and ripped it downstream.

Looking back at the last roots that began to disappear into light spores, Haledon put his feet against the wall. The movement shifted the aching arm he hung from, sending a stab of pain through his body.

"Ahg!" He cried out as he pressed both feet flat in preparation to lunge.

Haledon watched as the roots withered and the light dimmed, signalling him to launch off. He gave a hard push, sending pain through his body, with enough force to break the remaining support root and thrust himself out into the crevasse. Haledon was falling again, but this time, towards the icy water below.