The Path    The Path by Lys

  

 RATED G
 Title: THE PATH
 Author: Lys Contact me at: lysTYK@hotmail.com 

 Disclaimers: Alliance owns them; I just borrow the characters once in a
while. 

 Hope you enjoy, Lys 

 THE PATH  

 He stood backed up against the tree, thick curls of dark hair falling
about his eyes. His small hand held his compass tightly as his other hand
grasped the top of his pack at his side. The early spring sun filtered
down through the branches to light his face. He wiped a trembling hand
across his brow and picked up the pack at his feet and slung it over his
shoulders. He carefully put the compass in his jean pocket and started the
long walk he knew was ahead of him. He guessed he had a very long walk in
front of him, but he was unsure of the exact distance he would have to
travel. 

 Stopping an hour later, he drank from his canteen and removed his
heaviest layer of clothing, the large parka his grandmother made he wear
when he left the cabin. Little did she know that he had used the cover of
the parka to remove everything he needed from the cabin for this trip. He
guessed it would be many hours before they realized he had provisions and
supplies with him. Worrying his grandparents wasn't what he wanted to do
but his little 7-year-old heart was drawing him somewhere else. He had to
make the effort. His dreams were leading him, and memories he could not
forget. 

 The trail before him led up to the low mountains pass and down again into
the next valley. That's where he wanted to be, he needed to be in that
next valley. He trudged stalwartly up the path, well worn by his Inuit
friends for centuries. Every once in a while he would stop, take a drink,
check his compass heading and then continue on his way. By noon his
stomach was growling and he stopped to set down his pack. Removing a small
bag from it, he chomped on some dried meat he had hidden away from his
Grandparents. Before the sun was high overhead, he completed his harsh
little meal and gathered his things up again and followed the path again. 

 He knew he had to make the top of the path soon or be on this side of the
mountain in the dark. He was grateful to his father who had recently
taught him to start a fire alone in the dark. He knew he wouldn't be
afraid out here; he had his piece of flint right in his pocket. 

 Soon he had made it to the top of the path and was sure he would make his
destination before nightfall. A smile brightened his expression and his
eyes shown with determination. His seven-year-old legs were tired and
cramped, his pack felt heavier than when he had begun. But he kept
walking. Near the top he found a long stick about 4 inches around, he
picked it up and used it to lean on once in a while as he got closer and
closer to the top of the path. He stopped to listen to the quiet forest
around him, noting the height of the sun in the sky. His stomach felt sick
as the sweat started to run down his fair skinned face, but he began the
ascent again. 

 Near the top of the path, the ground became rockier and the trees thinned
out a bit. But the small boy didn't notice, his eyes were focused on the
peak above him. Reaching the top, he stood on his toes and looked down to
the right far below him. He could just make out the cabin roof that he
sought. A brighter smile light his face and he began the descent into the
valley below. 

 Soon he was nearing the cabin as the sun began dropping below the trees.
He quickened his pace and kept right one. It wasn't long before he was
seeing all the old familiar sights he had missed for so many months. He
threw his young shoulders back and straightened his posture. Then he
marched down the final bit of path that led to the cabin. The boy imagined
the smell of smoke and cooking and hurried along the last steps to the
cabin. He set his pack down and began to tremble as he climbed the cabin
steps. Putting his hand out he tried to begin to pull the door open. 

 He was surprised when the door suddenly gave way and fairly flew open. A
large, male figure loomed before him dressed in red serge and high boots.
The man knelt down and grabbed the boy quickly to him then thrust the boy
back a step before returning to stand with military correctness in front
the child. 

 The boy sniveled a bit and wiped away the tears from the corners of his
eyes and stood with exactly the same military precision as the man before
him. 

 "Why'd you make the trip without telling your elders boy?" 

 "Because I had to, I had to make the dreams stop." Was the forthright
answer. 

 "Do you know how badly you've worried your grandmother?" 

 "Yes, sir." 

 The man judiciously used a hand to wipe a tear from his own eye before
the boy saw it. 

 "Well, Benton. Get yourself into this cabin and sit down quietly while I
call you grandmother on the radio." 

 "Yes sir." The boy entered the cabin and looked around at its emptiness.
He had hoped to find something here to take back with him. He had wanted
to find something of his mother here to hold on to at night, something to
treasure. But the cabin looked empty and bare. He sat forlornly on the
chair by the window and looked out into the forest. 

 His little chest began to quiver with the tears he held inside. But he
was determined his father should not see them. The man who was the boy's
father watched his son survey the room out of the corner of his eye. He
knew what his son was there for, knew what the boy needed. He needed the
same thing. 

 "Yes, mother. He's fine, just a little tired. No, I won't be bringing him
back tonight. There are some things I need to do here, we'll be back in
the morning." Robert Fraser of the RCMP turned off the radio and stood
watching the back of his son's head. 

 "Hungry Boy?" he asked. 

 "Yes Sir." 

 "Fine then. I'll fire up the old stove and make us some oatmeal." He
turned and went out the cabin door for a few minutes to purposely leave
the boy alone in the cabin. Robert went to the old woodpile and began
gathering enough wood for a cook stove fire in his arms. 

 Benton surveyed the room that used to be his entire world and sat still
dreamily remembering his mother making him a meal at stove his father was
going to use. He rose and walked slowly around the bare room. When he
neared the stove, he saw something shinny on the cabin floor. He bent and
picked up the little, fingernail sized locket lying there. His hand shook
and he opened it hoping to see a picture of his mother inside. He was
surprised to see that the locket held a baby picture of himself and a
picture of his father. 

 His father's shadow fell upon the wood floor as he entered the cabin
carrying the firewood. Benton dropped his hand with the locket and stepped
back out of his father's way. He knew his father was mad at him. When the
wood was in the stove and beginning to glow with the first fire it had
held in sometime, Benton approached his father and gently put out his
hand. 

 "I found this by the stove." The boy bit his lip, but something told him
he was doing the right thing. "I think perhaps you might want it." 

 Robert looked down at his son's hand and his breath stuck in his throat.
"Thank you kindly, Benton." he said as he took the locket he had given
Caroline at the birth of their son out of Benton's hands. "Your mother
treasured this, I don't know how it got left behind." Robert moved
nervously and knelt before the boy and looked him squarely in the eyes.
"Are you sure, boy?" 

 "Yes sir, I'm sure." Benton the child for a moment looked like the adult
he would become, but his lips trembled. 

 "Well then, let's get ready to eat shall we." Robert pulled the boy to
him and smothered him in a bear hug before turning and opening his own
pack and getting out the things he needed for their meal. 

 As they sat over their oatmeal a short time later, Robert again surveyed
his son's quivering lips. "You can't go back son. You can never go back.
Looking back causes too much pain sometimes. You have to stay on the path
to tomorrow and not look back down the path at yesterday. You do what's
right and you live your life the best way you can. But you can't go back.
Do you understand Benton?" 

 "I'm not entirely sure sir." Benton replied. 

 "Well, someday you will. Someday you will. They finished their oatmeal in
silence.