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The Hike

By: Ron Lebeck

It was getting to be time again to head off into the wilderness. This is something I do periodically when I need to dispel the pressures cast upon my individuality by the world of Man. Only, this trip would prove to be...unusual.

Things started out normal enough. I checked my backpack and, after loading enough supplies to ensure my survival, I headed for the forest. The weather was cool and foggy - perfect for my purposes. The forest is located in a remote mountain fastness, far away from civilization. After backpacking for some time through sugar pines, mountain hemlock, and fir trees, I decided to stop and take a rest. Upon finding a suitable place to sit, I began looking about and enjoying the scenery. That is when the queerest chain of events in my life began to unfold. I found The Key. Not just any key, mind you, but one which is of a most ancient design, and although quite rusty, still in remarkably good shape. I puzzled over how it might have came to be deposited on the ground, facing East, and right where someone like myself might find it easily. After several minutes had come and gone, I stuck The Key in a pocket of my vest and struck off towards the direction that it was pointing when I found it. Continuing for a few more hours, I eventually arrived at my favorite glacier-fed lake. The water was as always crystal clear and the surrounding area unspoiled by the hands of Man. I was suddenly surprised by a bear looking for blue berries to eat, so I stood still and calm waiting to see what it would do. It happened to look up and saw me standing there across the water, so the bear stood erect trying to bluff whatever its poor vision told it I was. Taking a bit of a chance, I gave the meanest, most blood-curdling yell I could muster, thinking that I might be able to trick the bear into thinking that I was bigger and more terrible than he. The tactic worked as desired and the bear moved on.

I eventually left the forest and came upon a cliff of worn basalt; a hard, black igneous rock formed by volcanic activity. Standing on the edge, I saw a plain with an old stone ring, similar to the ones in Ireland. It struck me as most peculiar for such a ring to be here in the U.S., so I set out to investigate it. Once in the center of the ring, I reflected upon those who built this monument to ancient gods. While so doing, something caught my eye just beyond the part of the ring I was looking at. Lying upon a flat stone, about the width of an average man's height, was a staff made of oak and decorated in holly leaves and carved with Runes of Power, which shimmered in the light of the now risen full moon.

I felt compelled to take up the staff and wield it as if it were my own. Clouds began to gather and the winds to blow. I knew a storm was brewing and did not wish for this staff to weather it alone. The instant I grasped it, a bolt of searing energy hit me, and in that flash I remembered a quote from one of my books saying, "Pain is the Craft entering the body of the Adept." When I came to, the first image I beheld was that of a wolf standing over and looking at me eye to eye. It began to lick my face, which promptly served to remove all traces of unconsciousness. I slowly sat up and noticed that there were others of its kind lying about and that they were all watching me with some interest. I noticed, too, that the staff was still in my hand and my pack beside me. Cautiously, I regained my feet and shouldered my pack keeping a wary eye on the wolves to see if they were with me or against. They seemed interested in what I was about, but not in an ill way so thinking about the unsettled skies, I headed off to find shelter for the night with my new companions about me.