[skillya_glowi]

Chapter Four.

When Sami opened his eyes the following morning, it took him a few moments to recall what had happened during the previous day. Finally he remembered that he was in a cave of an unknown tribe of intelligent creatures, and that, most importantly, they knew someone that could help him. He was a little shaken after yesterday’s interview, but he saw no possible way to avoid them. Besides an occasional sniffle, he lay still. He was afraid that his captors would wake.
It all seemed so very hopeless. Sami himself could not think of one way to drive the Woulks out, unless it happened to employ the help of the industrial races, of which nearly everyone tried to steer clear. After all, it was they who drove Gabbits to the brink of extinction, and if Munch had not saved the last can of Gabbiar … Explosives, weapons, machinery were all their area, not that of the native races.
Apart from that, he could see absolutely no hope. The ancient spirits could not nearly be enough unless they happened to have the ability to spew grenades from their eye sockets or possess the power to shoot poison darts from their mouths. Sami shivered. The bonfire has fizzled out sometime in the night, and now it was beastly cold in the cave.
Stifling a yawn, he rose halfway on his elbow. Staring straight at him was a charcoal drawing of a Meech. Whatever it was, this race was ancient. Meeches were known to be extinct long before even Munch was born .
Sami examined the picture closely. It was carefully drawn, yet starting to wear off. He sighed and shook his head. While he was here, involuntarily imposing on some tribe’s hospitality, he imagined his house shaken to the foundation by a Woulk’s roar, perhaps even submerged in the water of the very spawning pools where he was born. He shook off the memories. There’s nothing he can do about that…yet.
Examining the cave art, he had not noticed as Ikha approached. The orange glow of his eyes that has been so prominent in the evening was now dimmed. His mouth was partly open, revealing three rows of sharp sparse teeth, much like the Gabbits’.
“ We have held council,” he said in a low, smooth voice.
Sami eyed him apprehensively.
“ We know who you need to see.”
“ Who?” Sami queried eagerly.
“Come,” Ikha said solemnly, gesturing for Sami to come along.
Sami rose with much difficulty and hopped up to Ikha’s side.
“You need to see the Almighty Raisin,” Ikha announced.
Sami remembered his grandmother telling him the story of Munch.
“You mean the Elderling?” he asked.
Ikha nodded.
“ Where could I find him?”
Ikha shrugged.
“But I need to know!” Sami cried desperately, tugging at Ikha’s elbow. “ As of now, that Almighty Raisin is the only chance I have!”
“ I am sorry, I do not know,” Ikha repeated.
“Does anyone else know?”
“ Otushe might,” Ikha said. “He has walked this planet for more than one thousand years…he would know.”
“ Why won’t you ask him?”
“ No one dares ask him.”
“ Why not?”
“ You ask too many question. It is just that way.”
Sami hung his head. He sneezed and started hopping away. About halfway to his resting place he turned.
“ Do you at least know what direction to go in?”
“ The Raisin’s cave is all way south. Long journey,” Ikha replied.
Sami sighed. What could the Raisin tell him? How could it help? Unless his Ratz bunched together and bit the Woulks to death, he could not see any point in coming all that way . But, he remembered one of his grandmother’s maxims, sometimes all one needs is a little information. The Woulks must have some vulnerability…
No matter how great his weapons or his army were, he was afraid to face the Woulks. The last thing he could ever want is see the knifelike teeth inside the gaping mouth, to smell its putrid breath… He still winced whenever he bent over or leaned back. He has gotten pretty much used to the pain, but that didn’t mean it wouldn’t hurt anymore.
Don’t worry, Sami told himself. Soon you’re going to be home…When you manage to find the Almighty Raisin… And kill the Woulks… If home is still there. He sat down and wept. It’s not going to be the same. The past cannot be changed…
He remembered himself as a young Gabbiwog, playing in the cool waters around his shack. As he grew up and crawled out of the clear pool, he fell in love with it at first sight. He has spent his three years making it as homelike as possible, with the help of his brothers and sisters. The little cot where he used to sleep was weighed over by puffy blankets and small pillows. His yellow-striped wallpaper resembled the sides of this cave, because as a child, he loved to doodle. In some places it was charred as well (it took him a while to figure out how to get a fire going). He remembered how he used to swim carelessly in the river, taking it all for granted…he couldn’t let it all go. He simply couldn’t.