The cries of a dying wombaï, I can still hear it over and over again in my head. Sadness fills my heart.. This is indeed a dark day for this homin.
I was going to trek meself up to the jungle region known as the Knot of Dementia. Cheerful as always. Today I was finally going follow the wombaï herds again. I was bringing my mektoub mount, Klossen, with me for safer trekking. Knowing the Knot of Dementia the gingos and ragus would probably be waiting for me. You see, I have been to the Knot before, although never alone. The animals are strong, stronger then anything I have run into anywhere else. And kitin, kitin everywhere. Even with my friends by my side it would be a dangerous trek if not careful.
Fear tickled my soul as I left the safety of Zora once more. Only my fond memories of the wombaï kept me on track, pushing me ever deeper into the jungle. It’s still springtime on Atys. Blossoming flowers everywhere. Even the Knot with all its dangers fills this homin with a strange joy, almost as powerful as the fear.
My trek was not older then half an hour when I had my first run in with the gingos. A pack of them even. Basking in the sunlight they didn’t seem to notice me as I ushered Klossen away from certain death. Mektoubs being smarter then they look, he obeyed without hesitation. I can only thank Ma-Duk for letting the flowers bloom with such grandeur that their wonderful fragrance kept our scent hidden from the gingos.
Having to trek around the gingos added another half hour to my journey. Thirty minutes I could have spent observing and communing the wombaï. I decided not to let this bring me down. Any time spent with the wombaï is time blessed by Ma-Duk. My close encounter with the gingos worried me thou. I can not let go of it. Never have I seen gingos in such large numbers. Well, it could be that I never have trekked so close to the gingos during spring time. Might spring be the gingos mating period? The thought of gingo babies roaming the jungle makes my blood boil. And boil my blood rightfully did. As I broke through the bushes and into the wombaï nesting ground my heart sunk. I felt the anger, sorrow and fear rise up inside of me, all at once. Gingos. Another pack. And they where tearing into the weaker wombaï with such ferocity.. And all I could do was watch. Watch my beloved wombaï get slaughtered. I could count as many as four dead wombaï and two dying when the gingos finally left. They hadn’t even killed them to calm their hunger. They simply left the dead where they fell.
My time with the wombaï was not spent marvelling at these wondrous children of Ma-Duk but rather praying for their departed. As I joined the survivors in their mourning I felt closer to the wombaï then I ever have before. I know now that in their big round eyes I see the gentle, loving side of Ma-Duk.
Praying for the fallen
Darkness falls and I return to Zora. Accompanied by Klossen and a sorrow never felt befor.
//Lizia the mourning
.
