Wrong. It all felt wrong.

His eyes ached from squinting in the harsh light from the sun, usually so familiar and comfortable. This day, not even the shade of his battered old hat seemed to help. The brilliance hammered at him, sapping his spirit.

The easy motion of Peso's jog, a primary foundation of his life for most of his adult years, jarred with foreign harshness. No twist or squirm allowed him to find that easy synchrony he took so for granted.

And the earth, his mother, denied him. Hard, unforgiving when he sought rest, silent when he needed to commune.

He felt stifled. Smothered. Mired in a world gone pointless and without movement.

Vin Tanner shifted his weight, bringing his tired horse to a halt.

He knew the real problem. It had nothing to do with the sun, or the earth. Or Peso, for that matter.

The real problem was sitting back in that town, silent and morose. Shoulder still wrapped in bright white bandages, face still distant as the hazy mountains. Chris Larabee didn't have anything to say to the man who'd failed him so abysmally. Twice.

Vin's chin dropped as he contemplated those failures. The others... they counted on him for just two things. His rifle, and his ability to track anything, anyone, anywhere. And he'd failed at both when it mattered most to the finest friend he'd ever had.

First, he'd missed. The one time in his life when making that shot might truly matter to someone he cared about, he'd missed. And the bitch had gotten away.

And again, he'd failed. Lost her trail. Had to drag himself back to face that man and admit that the woman responsible for all Chris Larabee had lost had eluded him.

Chris hadn't spoken ten words to him since. After two days, the oppressive weight of those hard green eyes had driven him to his sanctuary, away from the town and those who depended upon him. Out into the wilderness.

But still, he felt that weight. This day, there was no comfort for him here.

A flicker of movement drew his eyes up toward the harsh brilliance of the sky. A hawk, soaring above him. Slicing through the heavy air, hovering momentarily, then diving. Again driving his wings to push himself up and up.

A piercing shaft of envy struck though Vin's heart. He watched, rapt, as the beautiful creature banked, dived, and sailed, apparently for no other reason than the joy of its freedom.

Oh, that freedom. He tilted his head back, closing his eyes and allowing himself to imagine that ecstasy. The flow of air, the lift of body. Great Spirit, to be so unfettered, such a child of the wilderness!

Then he dropped his head back down, abruptly aware once again of his heaviness, of the stagnant air. He felt the sweat and grime on his body, the hot ache of muscles and eyes.

The glide of the hawk wasn't for Vin Tanner.

Blindly, he groped for his canteen. He grimaced at the light weight, shaking it to hear the shallow rattle of water. He'd nearly emptied it, uncharacteristically imprudent with the precious resource in the oppressive heat of the day and his mood.

For a moment he sat motionless, feeling again the grit and perspiration, the nearly empty canteen dangling loosely from his fingers. The relentless bake of the sun's heat pounded against his back.

With a sharp nod, he drained the canteen, then tightened his knees, nudging Peso back into motion.

<<<<<>>>>>

With a tired sigh, Vin pulled the saddle and blanket from the gelding's back, then tipped the saddle forward to rest on its tree. He used the rag he carried in his saddlebags to give the horse's sweaty back a vigorous rub. Scratching behind the big ears, whispering into their furry softness, he slid the bridle off and gave the big horse a slap on the rump. The little valley held the only water and grazing around; Peso wasn't going to be wandering far in the near future.

Vin stretched, and turned to stare over the small lake, the day's first smile curving his lips. This was his place. Hidden, difficult to find and reach. A tiny oasis of beauty and peace tucked into the cracks of a harsh world. The little pool was fed by a sizeable stream flowing down from the mountains, full and hearty at this time of year. What he loved best was that the stream fell into the pond from a drop of about fifteen feet, creating a small, noisy waterfall. There was a small cave behind the falls, too wet to comfortably spend the night, but potentially a very useful place of concealment.

He came here when he needed to refresh his spirit, and today it was more in need than he could recall.

He knelt at the side of the pond, filling his canteen with the clear water. When it had bubbled its last, he capped it and set it aside.

For a moment, he sat on his heels, again gazing over the ruffled surface of the small lake. Then slowly, he began removing his clothing. He shook the dust from his old hide jacket, dropping it on the rocks away from the wetness of the lakeside. Boots tugged off and tossed; suspenders, trousers, shirt, bandana... all dropped to the rocks beside the coat. After a moment's hesitation, he shucked out of his undergarments, finally standing beside the pond in the skin the gods had given him.

With a sigh of pure pleasure, Vin slid into the water, its chill catching his breath.

First he bathed, cleaning away the grimy sweat that had so weighed him down. Scrubbing his hair and letting it float on the disturbed waters of the pond's surface. He allowed his mouth to fill with the crisp water, swallowing enough to soothe the hot thirst from the scorching sun.

Then he struck out for the deeper water, slowly, gently stroking out into the middle of the pond. The cool sweep of the water past his bare flanks reminded him that the world still held freshness, that the burden of the day could be left behind.

He rolled over onto his back and floated, eyes nearly closed. For a while, just for these few moments, he could cast off the chains of the earth, hovering weightless, unfettered. Like that hawk.

Vin's slitted eyes widened slightly, searching. And there he was, gliding effortlessly through the shimmering sky, feathers ruffled by the air flowing past his body.

Vin watched for a few seconds, then turned over and struck toward the shore, mood shifting back toward his earlier unhappiness. How he wanted to be that hawk! To feel that strength of wind whipping against his skin.

He moved slowly out of the water, then turned and gazed at the tumble of the waterfall, a strange idea tickling at the corners of his mind.

Drawn by fascination, he moved closer to the falling water, sliding along the rock cliff into the little space behind. He loved sitting back here, looking at the world through the distortion of the fall. But he'd never...

With a blossoming grin, he stepped forward into the rush of water, initially shocked by the power battering against him. But after a few seconds, he adjusted to the force, and tilted his head back, eyes closed, to revel in the awakening of his body.

He'd never felt anything like it. He knew his lips were stretched wide with a grin of pure joy. He could feel the water beating against his teeth, pouching out his cheeks. Felt the hard hands pounding on his shoulders, chest and flanks, and the tug on the long strands of his hair.

His delighted laughter was swallowed by the roaring cacophony of the rushing water, swept away into the pond with the rest of the flow.

Arching his back, he stretched his hands out to the sides, rotating slowly in the rushing flood.

And there it was. This was a liquid wind, but a wind nonetheless. He was that hawk, wind whipping through his feathers and against his skin.

He was soaring, diving, gliding on the current of the fall.

In a rush, he felt the oppression of the last week fall away. Knew that this would pass, that the tentative security he'd found, so recently shaken, wasn't lost.

He was the hawk. The world was his freedom, and he was ready to take that world back into his own hands.

Finally, stepping out of the water, he moved into the sun, shaking his dripping body, squeezing his hair.

He'd found what he was looking for here. Time now to head back and have a few words with a certain black-clad thundercloud.

Ende