In a tangle of vines, Nat's long knife became wedged. Sweat dripped into his eyes while he yanked on the handle, trying to pull the blade free. Frustrated and tired, he prepared for a final yank when a hand rested on his shoulder.
Neenya moved his hand from the handle and stepped in front of him. Taking the handle, she moved it up and down as she pulled, and it soon slid free.
"Thank you, Neenya," Nat said, letting her, once again, take the lead. Her long knife seemed to sail through the undergrowth, but when he had tried to lead, he found it impossible to do. Neenya was a gift from the gods.
Among the villagers, he was seen as something special. It was impossible to know what it was they really thought since he did not understand their language, and even worse, none would dare speak to him. Even the village elders would only nod, shake their heads, or point. When they pointed, they almost always pointed to the same place: a high peak on the far side of the island, which was often obscured by clouds. It was there Neenya would take him.
As soon as Nat had shown the slightest interest in reaching that mountain, Neenya had stepped forward and the elders rushed them to start their journey. Since then, Neenya had been leading him deeper into the jungle, and Nat began to wonder if he would leave it alive. Snakes, lizards, and even frogs were threats here. Whenever a threat was near, Neenya would make a sharp hissing sound and point.
Despite the danger, Nat did want to see what the villagers thought was so important about this mountain. Something was there, waiting for him. Whenever they gained a clear view of that narrow yet majestic spire, he would stand in awe, overwhelmed by a feeling of anticipation.
Nat found himself staring at the still distant mountain and realized he'd stopped again. Neenya had continued to clear a path through the underbrush, and he jumped at the sound of her sharp hiss.
Chapter 6
Wager your coin only when you know something the rest do not.