“This trail is murder to climb,” Bad Bone complained, as he struggled over the small stones covering the trail almost like a bed of rollers. “If you use this trail so often, why don’t you take time to clear it and make it easier to travel?” he asked Borjent.
“We don’t dare touch the stones,” Borjent replied. “The trail is maintained like this by the Munk clans that live on the ridge. “You don’t see them, but they are watching us even now.” Seeing Bad Bone grow instantly more alert, Borjent touched his arm with a friendly, comforting paw. “Not to worry, my friend,” he advised. “The Munk are friendly to us, and do a service by keeping the trail covered with these small stones,” Borjent continued between labored breaths as he climbed. “Wait a bit and I’ll tell you more when we reach the top.” Bad Bone was quite happy to wait—the climb took all of his breath.
Reaching the summit, the trekkers stopped to rest. No one spoke for some time, as everyone regained strength. Ragged breathing gradually subsided, and the characteristic Borf laughing and joking returned. Borjent pointed back down the trail. “The stones on the trail protect all the creatures on the far side of the ridge from intruders,” he said. “Tramandrivot is the only way for a large group to cross the ridge. Munk Sentinels are on constant watch and repair the stone bed in the trail as needed. The treacherous path deters most beasts of ill-will from attempting the climb, and slows others down long enough to sound the alarm. When an alarm is sounded, the Munk roll massive stones down on the trail from the heights. That thwarts any other foolish attackers.” Smiling, Borjent waved to the heights above his head. “You won’t see the Munks, but they are there,” he explained. Soon after, a small round pebble sailed down from above, bouncing off of the rocks with a soft Clink-Clink-Clink. “Munk Sentinels returning the greeting,” Borjent explained, grinning.
Gazing up at the rocky pinnacles that soared around the sides of Tramandrivot, Bad Bone saw no hint of the hidden Munk Sentinels. “I begin to see how it might, indeed, be possible for clans of folk to live beyond the reach of the High One’s rule,” he commented. “Very interesting,” he continued, “very interesting, indeed.”
“You begin to see,” Borjent replied, “but you do not yet fully understand.” Beckoning for the Lynx to follow him, the Borf chieftain walked a number of steps toward where the trail apparently descended the far side of the ridge. Leading Bad Bone around the side of a rock wall, he extended his arm to indicate what lay beyond the summit. The long, steep climb up the slippery trail led to a breath-taking vista at the top of the ridge.
On the far side of the steeply pitched ridge, mountains glistened with lush forests, hidden here and there by wisps of moist clouds. Bad Bone had never seen such forests as these. Luxuriant forest unrolled down the slopes into a long mist-shrouded valley that stretched as far the eye could see. Off in the distance, just peeking above the endless clouds covering the valley, he could make out the continuation of mountains.
“The Confusion of Hopes lies below,” Borjent said. “Within that misty valley is the pathway to our home.”
“But, the valley is buried in clouds,” Bad Bone exclaimed. “How could a beast ever find his way through such a dense forest drenched in fog?”
“Ah,” replied Borjent, “now you understand the Confusion of Hopes. Most beasts enter the valley and assume that the only way through is to follow the stream courses.” He shook his head sadly, then continued. “Hope after hope rises in the heart of a beast trying to find a way through that valley by boat...but it leads to nothing but confusion. The only way through is to climb across the valley in the canopy of the trees!”
“Go across the valley in the trees!” Bad Bone replied in astonishment.
The Borf leader held up his arm to call a halt to the march. “I’ll explain more later,” he replied. “Now, the folk are tired.” He swung his pack to the ground and laid it against a tree. Then he called to the Borf following him, “We stop here for food and rest.” The Squirrels and Coyotes happily dropped their packs, laid down the pole and net sleds that some pulled, and fell on the ground to rest.