“The Bone Forest!” Helga exclaimed. “But we need to go to the station at Drownlands Cutoff, Ola,” she continued urgently. “There’s a chance the station-master may know something about Papa...I’ve got to do it...I miss him terribly...” Helga felt confused and somewhat angry with Ola. Why didn’t he understand? Burwell also protested.
“Friends, friends,” Ola smiled. “If yor go to the Drownlands Cutoff, yor will all be Riding the Log. King Stuppy will be watching that route with his spies. There’s not a chance you could get there safely. It’s likely that he might even send some Cougar raiders to ransack the station. Yor cannot go to the Drownlands Cutoff.”
“OK, Ola,” Helga replied. “I see your point, but why go to the Bone Forest? How can that possibly help?”
“Aiean, Misst Helgy,” Ola said, “yorn not be understandin’ this soon. I don’t even understand it myself yet. Boot, from what we know, the Bone Forest may hold some meanin’ for yorn search, and it may help yor elude any pursuers King Stuppy sends after yor.”
“Ola! Are you sure? I thought no one could live in the Bone Forest?” Helga was deeply puzzled, and with a hint of impatience, she added, “From all we have heard, the Bone Forest is a horrible wasteland, with no food, no water, and nothing but burning sun and dust! I lost Papa on a surging river, which, if anything, may come out somewhere around the Drownlands, but certainly not in a desert.” She grimaced in dismay. “I think you’re nuts to even suggest such a ridiculous idea.”
“Aiean, Misst Helgy,” Ola nodded, “I ain’t been there myself—and don’t know much aboot it. Boot, it bein’ better than meetin’ up with King Stuppy for sure, and what other leads do yorn have? Sometimes the place we’re lookin’ for isn’t a place.” At this curious statement, Helga gazed into Ola’s face searching for his meaning. She saw only the usual happiness of her friend. If there was any other intent in his speech, it was only to give her an enigma to consider.
Helga’s head was spinning. The Bone Forest! A dry, desert wasteland, rumored to be filled with the bones of creatures that had died there. A horrible place to be avoided at all costs. Now Ola thought she should go there. As they made camp for the night, Helga had much to think about...
Ola worked quickly, but without haste, as was normal for him. Pulling out a coil of fishing line he carried in his pack, he soon pulled several catfish from the lake. Cleaning them, he pressed them with wild blackberry juice, wrapped them in wild onions and grass, and roasted them between two Y-shaped sticks over a small fire Helga had made. Soon, they had a modest but very pleasing meal.
Helga loved fish and ate greedily. Then, after eating she sat for a long time, thinking. The deep darkness of the Drownlands wilderness made the sky seem especially brilliant with stars. Billions of points of light glistened overhead. Each one seemed more dazzling than the rest. Which one was brightest? One surely must be brighter than the others. Wasn’t that the way the world was? She wondered.
“Countin’ the stars, Misst Helgy?” Ola asked, sitting down beside her.
“No, just wondering if there’s one that is the most brilliant of all. Pretty silly question, eh?” Helga replied, grinning sheepishly.
“Niean, Misst Helgy,” her friend responded, “don’t yor worry aboot that. If there bein’ not the brightest, there bein’ not the dimmest. We’d all bein’ lost without seekin’ the brighter stars to follow. Niean, there’s always bein’ a star that’s the brighter. Yor just got to find it.”
“Ola, I know what you’re saying. I know that me deciding what to do now, which way to go, is like trying to find the brightest star in a sky full of brilliant stars. But how will I find it, Ola?” Helga asked. “There are so many stars. How is it possible? I sit here first thinking one thing, then thinking another. I feel so confused.”
“Well, Misst Helgy, there bein’ a star that’s sayin’ right to yor, I’m the brightest. Listen to that place inside yor that nobody can see. The brightest star is there, where no one can see it.” Ola gave Helga another of his gentle grins as he watched her puzzle over yet another enigma.
“G’night, Misst Helgy,” Ola said as he turned to retire, “don’t let the enigmas keep you up.”
Helga, feeling full and safe, dozed off, still pondering her questions.
Toward the Bone Forest
“Pssst! Helga, are you asleep?” Burwell was kneeling beside her, as Helga groggily opened her eyes. “I’m sorry to be bothering you,” Burwell apologized, “but I can’t stop thinking about what Ola said. I wanted to talk to you about it.”
“What do you want to say, Burwell? I’m listening,” Helga replied. Helga could see that her friend was troubled.