As the adrenaline pulsed through his veins, Arnon imagined all that lay ahead. He had heard tales of people of all kind, shapes, and colors; not to mention the array of exotic customs woven together into what he optimistically thought of as an exquisite tapestry. In Agraria, all the people looked like siblings. All the traditions were the same. It was as if the entire town was actually one gigantic family. How he yearned for the unknown.

Arnon was jogging along the winding dirt road; he was so lost in thought that he nearly fell flat on his face tripping across a small tree that had fallen into the path.  

“Whoa!! How'd I miss that?!”

He looked back at the tree behind him and felt a surge of doubt. The earth warned him to turn back. Arnon shook his head and forced the forbidding thought away.

He continued his odyssey but his jog had slowed into a fast pace walk.

There were already several miles behind him. The sun made his blonde hair feel like a hot plate; sweat soaked his shirt, and he was now feeling the burn in his legs with every step. Arnon began to search for a place to stop and refresh himself.

Up ahead, a small brook joined up with the road and seemed to follow it for as far as Arnon could see. He approached the edge of the water and bent down into a squat causing a groan to escape his lips.

“Wow, I’m sore.” He judged that he was almost half way to his destination and felt confident that he would be able to get passage on a boat by the next morning. Arnon cupped his hands under the clear stream and began splashing his face with the cool water. He shook his head enjoying the sensation of the water streaming down his back. His hands cupped once again as he prepared to drink from the crystal stream. He stopped and inspected the water midway to his face. "Odd." It appeared to be turning dark. The color was changing, as well. With terror he realized the water was trasforming into blood. He jumped backwards and landed on his backside with a thud. Blood covered both hands and was running freely down each arm.

Arnon stifled a scream and swallowed hard. In an instant the blood was gone and replaced with the mere remnant of stream water. He decided that he must have a bit of sun stroke. Fumbling his shaky hands through his pack, he searched for the sustenance his mother had provided.

The flesh on his arms crawled and even though goose bumps rose prominently on both arms, they felt hot as if dipped in nearly boiling liquid.

Arnon stopped fumbling and just sat motionless waiting for the world to return to normal.

The sun stroke would have to wear off soon.