This week's entry has a spoiler for the rest of the book.
I can't help but imagine what it is like running constantly for hundreds of miles. This isn't much difference than a long drive, where the mind wanders. A couple times a year I head up to northern Wisconsin. It is a six hour drive and I usually pass the time thinking about stories, novels, or working on code. It is both peaceful but frustrating at the same time, my thoughts are boiling around in my head as I think about endless plots and can't write them down.
This is pretty much the same for Rutejìmo. Hour after hour of running with relatively little physical effort. There isn't anything to do but think.
I really like introspection scenes. Coupled with the overwhelming fear of being hunted down and slaughtered by far more powerful clans, there is still a limit of how much terror someone can experience. There has to be a moment of silence otherwise he would break.
One of the drawbacks of spending hours thinking about stories is that they lose their impact for me. I think one of the reasons I struggle with Flight of the Scions is because I've mulled and worked out the plot of that novel for years. That and the sequels have been polished and worked and I'm afraid to the point it will be nearly impossible to write.
One reason I really want to get the next series written is because it will probably be the hardest. I've thought about it through too many drives, too many lunch walks (before my ankle broke), that I'm afraid all the excitement has faded.
I know what happens in Pack Daughter, Son of Vo, and Desert Child. I've probably gone over every related plot, at least a dozen of the side character's stories over the events, and basically have an idea of every single major person that happens.
Now I have to get it out of my head. That is the part I hate. It is also the part I'm afraid I'm going to fail.
Spoilers in this section.
There is one important foreshadowing in this chapter:
An unwanted picture flashed across his mind, Piròma wearing all white as she stood before a bonfire. A kojinōmi.
Rutejìmo stumbled and lost precious speed. He threw all his concentration on pushing past the flash of agony and regaining the steady beat of running. Tears burned in his eyes, but he bore the pain until he could run again.
This makes a lot more sense with the following from Sand and Ash:
Mapábyo straightened. "What about Rutejìmo?"
Gichyòbi looked at Rutejìmo. His hand rested on his wife's hip and he stared for a long moment. "I'm strongly suggested to save him."
Rutejìmo felt a shiver of something coursing along his skin. "A suggestion?"
"It isn't a compulsion, it isn't Wamifūko, but something else. I respond as if you are clan, but I know you aren't. I've seen other warriors do the same. You," he pointed to Rutejìmo, "will never be a warrior, but there is more than one clan looking out for you. Maybe every clan that walks the sands?"
I like this scene, mainly because of the foreshadowing but also because I've always planned on her fate. She actually has a quote in the Flight of the Scions, which gives some ideas of her greater fate.
Sand and Bone 27: A Longer Day
Haunted by the clans chasing after him, Rutejìmo throws everything into running as fast as he could. As he did, the typical euphoria can't keep his mind from wandering to what was waiting for him at the end, his family and clan. The hope of seeing his boy and daughter are the only things that keep him running.
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