It was a long night, it was a bright night, it was a night like no other. The moon's reflection in the waters was unfortunate for our need of discretion, but it seemed as if every lifeform out and about was looking up to the sky.
Pre-Darkening people would have looked forlorn, and others familiar with history would also have a curious look, but for all others, it was an eerie spectacle. The full moon shone like a whiter sun in a darker sky, no other light beside it. No "stars", as they called the pinpricks of light that everybody from before had seen, and told of, anguish in their voice. Many of us didn't think it was even real. The fantastic tales we had been told sounded too strange to be true, and varied too much to be entirely believable. Some of it was true, that much was sure, and they explained a number of things in the landscape we trekked. Some of it was undeniably false, or too incredible for our ears. In the midst of it all was a vast swathe of stories in between truth and fiction, reality and lie, most of their actors dead or unknown, many of their places forgotten or vanished.
The moon was shining above us, a certainty in and of itself.
We moved slowly, at a constant pace, taking care of not speeding, not slowing. That speed was our group's, measured and adjusted day after day, night after night, to cater for each and every member. We all had a role to play. It was important that none felt tired until that initial crossing was over. Then, those needed would rush into action, while others would set up camp and rest. I would rest.
The need for discretion came from a need not to get eaten. 'Pretty fucking simple', as Din would say. Carnivorous things (for we had no name for them, no way to distinguish them, as they were fast in attack and in leave, so fast they would take in an instant and we would be left with the loss of limbs, of people, of friends, of time, of goods) roamed the waters, our only defense to look more impressive than they. The things weren't smart. If we moved as one, if we imitated the movement of fins and tail and head, if we didn't manifest individuality, then as long as we were, collectivily, bigger than the biggest of them, they would leave us alone.
That was the other reason for constant speed. Each of us had different endurances, different strengths. We reacted differently to stress, to excitement, to danger. Some didn't mind the cold, some didn't like warm waters. Some crossings were short, some were long, some took several nights, some needed cargo to be transported on rafts, some of this cargo could be live and and could necessit handling and care to ensure silence and stillness. Most groups had one or two, we had three; three heads who could take point and lead the crossing. When one was leading, another went in the middle, the last at the tail, ensuring the pace was met. The three heads was a particularity, a curiosity even, it made us expensive, but it made us reliable. We could lose a head and keep moving. We could lose two and keep moving. Hell, we could lose three and still manage, as their apprentices would take point and get us out of there. Nevertheless, we had yet to meet another group who had three heads. Two was uncommon, actually, we realised, as they could disagree and foul the work. One was easier.
The clac and snap and brush of wood against steel made me focus on the movement, until I regained comfort in the rhythm. Third time, it was, this crossing, that Lor had measured. I supposed the brighter moon made peh more exhalted to look at it closer. Lor was a recent addition, a moon-gazer, keeper of time. Previously people kept time by counting, or the heads would indicate how far we'd gone, how far remained. Sometimes we would find objects that would let us count longer iterations, but they were fiddly to use, and required too much concentration, which should be used for moving. Lor had an instrument. Peh would point it at the sky, at the moon or the sun, and measure the angle, and from that, the time. It was more precise than guessing using handspans above the horizon, if even we could see it, and it was available any time, any place, as long as either sun or moon was visible. No more counting. No more distractions. That was good. The cost of one more member was easily balanced out. And the group moved faster, more focused, less tired from keeping count.
Félix Saparelli | CC-BY-ND-NC, pending relicensing when (more) complete | 2014