66 A moaning in the hills

Certain sounds make my hackles rise whilst others are calming.

Today was one of extremes, one minute content to walk, the next, alert and ready. 

Sounds tell you a great deal about a place and some engender fear wherever you are. The croaking of frogs means all's quiet, a chaffing means big cats are walking through but not hunting. A roar is a potential fight and best to leave.

Then there are the birds calling to each other, giving the all's safe, something's moving which could be trouble or the alarms of serious threat. 

I'd learned many of these as I'd travelled. Now I was learning a new set and it was becoming clear this was another mountain cat area.

This is a real mix of landscapes too; from fast flowing river, to deep pools full of fish and other aquatic creatures, next to soggy areas where standing water glistens in the watery sun, and then lush woodlands. 

Then, like a knife had carved an edge to everything lush: desert. Unyielding dry sands which are cold at night and during the summer months, extremely hot in the day. 

Signs of various insects and spiders pepper the baked sand together with the slithering arcs made by snakes of unknown species. 

Looking into the hills I could see mountain antelopes, carefully moving on sheer slopes. The ground slipped under their feet. 

I shuddered. I wouldn't be heading out that way any time soon.

Returning to the wet lands which surrounded the river, I began inspecting the pools and watched as men cast round nets, pulling in bundles of fish.

My stomach rumbled and I remembered I'd not eaten that day.

I waited for them to leave and quickly moved to where they'd been fishing. There was always a chance they'd missed one.

No chance, the birds beat me to it. By the time I got there, the ground was picked dry. 

They must have been watching too.

I sat down and observed the water. It was clear with a strange, bright red bottom. I tasted the water and could taste the iron. 'Better than a sulphur, ' I thought to myself. I'd tasted water from a sulphur pool once and was violently sick. Little had lived in it so I hadn't hung around.

This one, however, looked hopeful. 

I put a hand into the water and waited; no leeches. 

Checking around I stripped off my clothing and slipped into the water. My first real wash since we left our homeland.

I took out my comb and began cleaning my hair.

I returned to my tent. It had been a long practice session and we were all exhausted. I knew in my heart of hearts the men needed to be ready, and we would be tasked with the filthiest of jobs; one of the joys of being a Chen!

We had received orders. We would be moving out in less than a week and taking up our position on a lookout tower which gave us a good view of the plains on the other side of the gorge itself. 

We will be expected to engage with all enemy movement and monitor all civilian movements, distinguishing friend from foe. 

I got the impression we were assigned this because Commander Zhang really didn't care if we lived or died.

It was at times like these I really hated my father. His arrogance and bullish attitude toward his men was the cause of many a lost life.

I was his son. I bore the brunt of his hostility but also bore the loss of my men.

I shook my head and drank the tea I had made. The faint taste of iron caught my pallet. 

I missed our homeland.

Thoughts began drifting through my head and I heard her laughter as we fooled about in the water, collecting lotus root. Running through the woodlands chasing a kill until it fell. Bringing it back and skinning it, butchering it and listening to her tell stories she'd heard on her journeys about the animals, the land and the balance we must honour and respect.

How we upset that balance....I drifted.

"Young Master," there was someone at the entrance to the tent. 

"Come." I put my tea and thoughts back on the tray, " let me guess, they've moved our leaving date forward. When do we go?"

The man nodded, "tomorrow, Young Master. We have orders to pull out at first light."

I groaned, the men were tired, they needed rest, not packing up ready to move out at first light.

'My bloody father! So eager for me to lose face! So eager to see us all dead!'

" Give the order," I said, then in a more conciliatory way, "and tell them I'm sorry, I didn't know either until now."