Mid-Week Flash Challenge - Week 63

This week's picture prompt is another where I can't track down the artist/photographer. I have however found the location - Lake Pehoe, Chile. Everyone shares this picture online but no one has accredited it anywhere. I can even buy it on canvas, particularly on French sites. Such a shame.

I only had an opening line for this tale and it ended up somewhere completely different, in a style and about a type of character I had never written before. I am not sure about it, but I like it enough to post. 

There is also a Facebook group for Mid-Week Flash, if you fancy getting the prompt there.

The General Guidelines can be found here.

How to create a clickable link in Blogger comments can be found on lasts week's post here.

Choices

He screamed at the sky in frustration, ‘Noooo!’

It couldn’t end here, he had come too far. He looked along the shoreline in both directions but this had been the only place to cross, the remains of the partially submerged bridge visible.

He paced back and forth for a while, channeling the great bear energy, then let it go. It was useless to him now in this moment. He needed to rest and think.

Wahkan squatted down and folded his arms over his knees. He needed to get across the great lake to those mountains and he needed to do it before the sun had left the sky. He had been sent by the-one-that-knew, and he had to replace the slayer that had gone before him, who had been slain himself. It was up to Wahkan to right the balance. It was the only way that peace would return to his tribe.

He personally hated the eye-for-an-eye ideology, but the white man had brought it with him over the plains, and it had swept like wildfire among the tribesmen. They considered it the only way forward. But it was the way forward to madness and mayhem and the end of their people.

Despite knowing this, Wahkan had to follow the instructions of the chief – or did he?

He stood up stretching his legs. What would happen if he didn’t complete this journey? In some ways the journey had already been completed when the slayer had been reported dead. It meant his tribe had not won this part of the battle. But they weren’t satisfied with that, they wished a repeat.

Wahkan had no idea what or who he would face. He could easily be slain. At this moment he still had a choice.

Was this destroyed bridge a message from spirit? Was he not meant to reach the goal? Was he meant to stop and contemplate whether to go on? Was this a sign that he must turn around?

He was not a great reader of signs from spirit; they had to be blatant to get through, and there wasn’t much more blatant than this. He thanked spirit, and felt the knot that had been in his stomach for the last few days loosen.

But if he turned around where would he go? He couldn’t return to his tribe. He would be punished or worse.

Yet another choice to make; spirit clearly wanted him to show strength of mind instead of body in this matter. He had heard of other tribes far down south who held fast to tradition and refused to be drawn into the fight. He would head that way.

The new decision and intention sparked his enthusiasm. He felt relief and a sense of excitement. With a journey of discovery ahead rather than death, his energy was renewed. But despite his busy mind making plans, he took a moment to pause and admire the nature around him, thanking spirit for the moment of clarity and humility.