The walk home was much the same as the walk in, though in reverse. His steps were measured and even, treading lightly upon the sidewalk and then packed dirt beside the paved road. Spirits lifted from annoyance to joy with every mile and as the sun crept down, illuminating the sky in brilliant shades of red, orange and purple. The bus driver even had the same routine, leaning out his window and asking if the young man wanted a ride. Each night he was waved on with a smile and shake of Mosi's head. He would enjoy his time while he could.
His coat, a leather creation made by his sister, was the first thing to come off upon reaching the humble house he called home. Soon the loose shirt followed as well as the sandles he wore. Moving around the warm house he began to fix dinner. There was a butcher shop on his way home that was adapting to his visits. Tonight he had rabbit to sear on the grill.
Once that was cooking, he had a minute to unload his pack onto the dining room table and unearth his cell phone. Turning it on, he discovered a message by his sister letting him know how much their clachans missed him. The next message was brief and to the point from his grandfather. Now in possession of the local vurma, Mosi was bound to contact them tonight.
Returning to his meal preparation he flipped the slightly cooked carcass, enjoying the aroma of the herbs and garlic he had stuffed into the cavity. In minutes he was sitting down to his books, his plate containing the warm meat and a large glass of water in front of him. Opening the three most urgent subjects to the proper chapters he tore into his rabbit with teeth and fingers while reading the evenings assignment.
((Mosi Out))
One foot in front of the other
Mosi trudged towards the college, growing more annoyed with every mile. Walking from his secluded house into the city always pissed him off. His backpack was full of the books and folders he needed as well as a snack. The load was light, compared to some packs he had carried and heavy compared to the days he used to wander the desert with nothing but a knife and spear. Still he enjoyed the classes even if he had to venture into the city to attend them.
The concepts of economics, business and management were not difficult to learn. He had even made a few nodding acquantances in the school's library. He would venture to the city library but the thought of walking deeper into town made him physically ill. A bus rumbled past and as always the driver stopped and opened the door. Leaning on the stearing wheel the overweight man hollered to Mosi, same as every day. "Yo man, ya want a ride today."
With a smile and a firm shake to his head he kept walking. The snow would start falling, and then he would have to cave. But for now his sandles covered the miles faster than the lumbering metal beast could. Probably because he did not stop for anything.
He had arrived in this manmade monstrosity of a city two months ago and kept a very low profile. Word from his grandfather was that the Sarkis was either in the city now or soon would be. The relief he felt was palpable. Being away from his Kumpania was not comfortable to Mosi. Now he simply needed to know a location and time to meet with the R'asa to deliver his greetings from his Grandfather Jarrah. The damn cell phone was burried in his backpack and luckily his family knew to leave a voice mail as it was perpetually turned off or dead. Logically he knew that as a good Son he should accept things as necessary but try as he might, this was one thing he had found himself incapable of.
Mosi
17 years ago