Seeker-for-Truth closed his Book and laid it on his bed next to the satchel, his clasp-knife, a tin cup, a loaf of bread, and a small pouch of coins. Seeker, as his friends called him—not that he had many of those—had saved up weeks to make the journey, often going without food to do so.
This was all he owned in the world. All he’d been able to scrape together since his parents had dumped him in this forsaken town. This time he would make it, at least as far the Wicket Gate.
His ears burned at the memory of past failures to leave. First time he had thrown up while passing through the bad part of town. Hadn’t even gotten out of Uncertain. Last time the lack of roads unnerved him.
He picked his Book back up. No, not in the satchel. He tucked it into his jacket. Christian may have had a burden, but at least he had a path. And Evangelist. He had nobody, but he had a plan. Lord Peregrine had led Lady Evadne by the stars—the Bear and the Hunter. He wished he had enough money to buy that book. One day he would, he promised himself. The Book he had–the one nestled near his heart called his destination “the City in the North.” Should be easy enough to orient himself by the sun. And he knew the stars. Day or night he had a guide.
He slung the satchel over his shoulder and set out. There was nothing here to hold him. No wife or children to cry after him. No neighbors to chase him, trying to convince him to return. The landlord has seemed grateful when he’d given him an extra month’s rent to find a new tenant and had wished him God-speed. He could have bought the book he wanted with that money—but it was the right thing to do.
The sun had barely appeared over the horizon. If all went well, he’d reach the Slough of Despond by noon. Once he found the steppingstones, he’d eat lunch and then cross—very carefully. With any luck he would sleep at the Interpreter’s House tonight.
***
The walk across the Valley of Destruction was more pleasant than he had expected. Rolling fields spread out before him, grass and wildflowers swaying gently in the breeze, and small clusters of trees breaking the open land. Birds sang, and clouds drifted serenely across the blue sky. He raised his face to the warmth of the sun, now halfway up the sky. The Slough should be just up ahead. Just a little further.
But the fields stretched on, and the sun kept climbing. His heel rubbed inside his boot and began to burn. The soles of his feet ached. His legs grew heavy. He briefly contemplated turning back—but he’d come so far already. It was probably further back than forward. Besides, he had no place to go back to. Well, there was… No, he thought, never back to his parents. Better to drown in the Slough than that.
He crested a small rise and saw it—a vast river snaking across the valley, blocking his way forward.
He blinked and rubbed his chin. This was not supposed to be here. His Book never mentioned a river. But then again, Christian had started from the City of Destruction. And he wasn’t exactly sure where Uncertain was. If he couldn’t afford a book, he certainly couldn’t afford a map.
He scanned the length of the river and couldn’t find a place to cross. No bridges. No ferries. It was too wide to swim, and even if he wanted to, he didn’t dare. The swift current churned up yellowish mud and swirled in dizzying whirlpools, and it stank of rotting vegetation. If he stepped foot in it, he was sure he’d never be found. Not that anyone would come looking.
There was only one way forward. He started following the river.
