Everything that you were born to do -- you don't have to do it. Someone else was born to do it too
The rain, at least, had become a familiar constant. Everything else might be shaky, sliding into the mud, but the rain came and kept on coming and Tom let it bead up and roll off him. There wasn’t really anything else he could do.
Dressed fully in waterproofs, Tom made his way down the boardwalk and stared intently into the soup the ground beyond had become. A snake, if he could grab one, would be good meat for dinner. The boars had long since gone to ground and food around the house was getting scarce. If he was smart, he’d be doing the same thing, but the World Tree right now....
He swallowed hard and took a deep breath. Obviously the people who’d called him Messiah hadn’t known him quite well enough.
There was a flicker of movement in the dark sludge beside the boardwalk. Tom settled into a crouch, waiting for more signs of movement. He was there probably thirty seconds or more before he sighed, ready to heave himself up again, when the ground gurgled and spat up a few, thick bubbles that spattered him with mud when they popped.
And there, half stuck in the mud in the pouring rain was a flicker of gold he hadn’t seen in more than five years.
“Jesus,” he said, overcoming his shock enough to grab the ring before it disappeared below the sucking mud. He held it up in front of him, looking at the facets of the diamond and the spidery script on the inside of the band like it was something out a dream.
“You should be in South America,” he muttered finally, not noticing when a snake surfaced, eyes and then spine and then the flicker of its tail, and eased out of his reach.
Dressed fully in waterproofs, Tom made his way down the boardwalk and stared intently into the soup the ground beyond had become. A snake, if he could grab one, would be good meat for dinner. The boars had long since gone to ground and food around the house was getting scarce. If he was smart, he’d be doing the same thing, but the World Tree right now....
He swallowed hard and took a deep breath. Obviously the people who’d called him Messiah hadn’t known him quite well enough.
There was a flicker of movement in the dark sludge beside the boardwalk. Tom settled into a crouch, waiting for more signs of movement. He was there probably thirty seconds or more before he sighed, ready to heave himself up again, when the ground gurgled and spat up a few, thick bubbles that spattered him with mud when they popped.
And there, half stuck in the mud in the pouring rain was a flicker of gold he hadn’t seen in more than five years.
“Jesus,” he said, overcoming his shock enough to grab the ring before it disappeared below the sucking mud. He held it up in front of him, looking at the facets of the diamond and the spidery script on the inside of the band like it was something out a dream.
“You should be in South America,” he muttered finally, not noticing when a snake surfaced, eyes and then spine and then the flicker of its tail, and eased out of his reach.