Graphic © Iced Gem 2003

I sat at the base of the towering cliffs eating dried meat, nuts and dried berries while visualy scanning the sides of the cliffs for a place to begin my ascent. I would need all my strength to reach the top.
I stood, lighting the long pipe and offering sacred smoke to the four directions, the sky, the ground and within, to the heart. I then sang a song of thanks to the great Spirit for seeing me through the valley and ask for guidance to see me through to free the Spirit in ice.
The crimson veins and small trickles from the green cliffs felt warm and sticky and had a familiar salty-sweet scent of blood. The crevass I had chosen had natural hand and footholds. As I began my climb it seemed much easier than it had appeared from below. I knew it would become more difficult as the green stone was loose and had a sandstone feel to it. Becoming to confident or careless would mean my death and failier. After several long minites of climbing I made the mistake of looking down to see how I had progressed. This was a mistake I would not make again as I felt dizzyness set in at the sight, my stomach churned, and I felt very weak. I closed my eyes and consentraited on my breathing, clinging fast to my hand and foot holds.
A vision of my Grandfather came to mind. I could almost hear him speak,"....patience my boy, you have the heart of a warrior. I will teach you not to fear, my strength will be you're strength."
I opened my eyes and continued upward. A cold wind began to buffet in gusts as I finaly reached a narrow ledge. I could see the top of the bluff several feet above me
but the hand and footholds stopped. The sides of the cliff had become smooth and damp with the trickle of red coating the wall. I inched my way along the ledge untill it became more amd more narrow and finaly stopped. My arm and leg muscles ached and burned, quivering from fatigue.
I had to continue. I remembered Grand Fathers words, "....my strength will be you're strength...". I inched my way back along the ledge, sliding my body against the sticky red surface of the wall. My right hand felt something beneith the damp ooze, a vine. Franticaly I pulled it free from the cliff. It went all the way to the top!
But it was very slick and my grip was weak, arms and legs quivering from exaustion.
I had to go on,"....the tribe,....remember the tribe..."
By some unknown force I felt my hands going over one another again and again. My moccasins slipping with each effort to assist my burning arms. Then suddenly, all went black..........

© Mysticwolf

15 June 2003

Go To Chapter 3. Freeing the Spirit

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