I felt again the adventuresome spirit of my childhood. I remembered being nestled in my cozy house in Oregon, covered in a blanket, watching through our big picture window as lightning bolts pierced the ground, counting the seconds to the thunder—the thrill I felt when I didn’t have time to count before the heavens roared and the house shook. I would gladly endure fear and danger for the sense of wonder I felt, grateful that even if I didn’t understand what was much bigger than I, at least it wasn’t ignoring me.

I recalled being a twelve-year-old, looking through my telescope to worlds beyond and wondering if there was something more, something waiting to be discovered. Sometimes, less frequently as I grew older, for fleeting moments I seemed to hear music, voices, something or someone from another world. When I walked among the towering firs, or smelled the huckleberry, or lost myself in the ocean, or gazed up to the stars, I felt I was on the verge of discovery, of finding I was no longer on the outside of the universe, but on the inside.

Over the years those dreams had died. But now at last I felt hope rising from their ashes. I took a deep draft of cool sweet air.

Frodo swaggered up to me, a pine cone sticking out of his mouth, looking as proud as if he’d bagged an elk. I picked him up, his tail whapping against both my wrists. Joshua rejoined me, with Shad a few steps behind.

“I’ve told Shadrach about you,” he whispered, “and I asked him to respect your freedom. Hopefully, he’ll back off.” Joshua pointed toward the downward road, heading north, and said, “Lead the way, my friend.”

Lead? You bet!

Though Joshua was my guide, he showed me respect by walking to my side, a step behind me, giving me a sense of control. I liked that. I was in conquer mode, so we marched down the terrain at a fast clip. It was a plunging path filled with sharp turns and lined with thornbushes that kept nipping at my pants legs. A few large brown and green lizards stared up at us from the gray path with unblinking eyes, motionless as we stepped over them.

After an hour we hadn’t reached a single rise in the trail.

“Does this path only go down?” I asked, careful not to step on Frodo.

Joshua laughed and answered, “To the very heart of things!”

By now storm clouds shrouded the two moons and the stars, but a constant barrage of lightning inside the clouds lit our erratic pathway. I heard low rumbles of thunder. I wondered where the wind was.

I didn’t look back at Shad. I nursed the hope that we’d lose him with the clouds and this reckless pace on a zigzag trail.