Eidos

Chapter 6: Finding Friends in High Places

Chapter 6: Finding Friends in High Places

"You're only thirteen!?!? That means you're a year younger than I am."

Harmonia was both shocked and impressed by Ro's age. Despite his youth, he seemed to know so much more than the curious girl who had come from the small town of Ralph's Castle. It was one of the many lessons Grandpa George had chiselled upon the tablet of his granddaughter's mind: never judge a book by its cover. Somehow, time and time again, those seven words had proved themselves true. In some of the most unlikely places she had found some of the most extraordinary people.

As Harmonia stood awestruck in the midday sun, Ro only laughed, "No one ever believes me when I tell them how old I am. I guess it's because I grew up hanging around grown-ups most of my life."

"Sometimes they are much better company than silly children who only think about themselves," added Harmonia remembering fat Willie and his purple bottle of Silly Juice. "I'm just blown away by how smart you are for being so young."

"What do you expect from a kid who grew up with books and dead thinkers as his only friends," a half-hearted smile followed Ro's self-defeating attempt at a joke.

The three companions had left the town of Mine early in the morning, long before the sun had even poked its head up from over the horizon. They had somehow managed to avoid any unwanted run-ins with the Privateers, or the fat Lieutenant who worked for the Corporations. Ro had wanted to bring every single one of his books, filling up three packs he had hoped to bring along for their journey. It took them nearly half the morning to decide what Ro needed to bring and what he would leave behind. Alongside two or three oddly shaped contraptions, he had settle on two books, one about the recorded histories of Sky and Oceanas, the other, a book on basic ship maintenance.

Harmonia had been given a new pack to replace the ripped green one brought from Ralph's Castle. It had been the hardest thing to leave behind, a muddied and smelly sack that could no longer serve its purpose. But despite its appearance, it had been with her through so much. Countless sunny days traveling through the mountains, midday picnics with grandpa, and not only that, it had been almost old as she was. It was a silly thought, but one she could not shake; that the shambling green pack deserved more than just being abandoned somewhere in a hole.

So Ro had taken the torn backpack and recycled it in whatever ways he could. The stronger mesh was used to support her newer one, which was also twice as big. The straps were ripped open with a strong knife and bundled together for what string or twine they might need throughout their journey. What had been the most genius invention of all was a larger pocket that had been sewed into Harmonia's. This would be Bird's resting place whenever it got tired. The red feathered skylark had no doubt approved of the idea considering it had remained fast asleep since leaving Mine.

After three hours of walking, the sun had begun beating with a nearly unbearable force. Both the children had long since been drenched in their own sweat. It was on days such as those, where not a single cloud could be found, when Harmonia wondered how people could complain about the cold. To her, the shade had always been a welcoming friend, especially on days where all she needed was a place to think.

Despite the vicious heat that rained down on the rocky path through the mountains, there remained a rich bounty of unparalleled beauty. The twisted mountains Harmonia and Bird had passed were long since gone. In place of the spiralling stones and unsurmountable peaks, there appeared lush red hills as far as the eye could see. These were much older than even the trees back at Ralph's Castle.

Some held faces that looked as if they had cried sap stained tears. Others displayed deep black spirals that rose from their trunks and up to tops of their branches. There were even those that shone a waxen white to indicate they were no more than seedlings compared to their elders. But the black lines were that which gave each tree its unique character. They represented the storms they had endured as generations passed, tumbling stones that chipped and cracked their bark in years gone by, and above else, it was what showed the world belonging to people that they too were alive.