The man stands in mute testimony to the quiet night, watching the fireflies in the meadow below him. The distant sky is awash in cloud based lightning strikes, in the distance, soft thunder rumbles in answer to the bright light show of the nighttime clouds. Across the meadow, down in the trees a couple of Coyotes start they’re nightly howling. Calling out to their brothers, sisters and cousins in the nearby meadows and tree stands.
The call is raised, the others across the nearby land answer, calling, challenging, answering and communicating in the primal world they still inhabit. The Fireflies dance along the meadow, the ridge in blissful un-awareness as the other nighttime creatures goes about their business.
Quickly a tiny field mouse scurries by in the thick grasses near the Man’s feet, he sees the direction with his ears, and his senses, he smiles realizing he is returning to the primal night-time stalker, sentry and soldier that he was in the past. Slowly he raises his blades, calls out to the other night-time predators, here I am come and get me. The Coyotes in the lower meadow pause in their calls as he rasps the back of the blades together, the metallic challenge goes unanswered.
He waits, issues another challenge softly calling, here I am come and get me, I am old, I am alone with only blades of steel to meet sharp fangs and claws. This time he issues the metal challenge by softly hitting the back of the hilts together; his eyes adjusting in their night vision seeks out the four-legged predators, waiting.
The challenge is not answered though a set of eyes, seek him out from across the small valley, regard him for a few minutes, then move off quietly. The man, more soldier now than many years of city living, sheaths his blades, casually swats off a pesky mosquito as he smiles.
He smiles for he is returning to the Wilderness, his wild side, the soldier the predator, the side that will keep him company and keep him alive in the years to come. As the night darkens, the storm moves even farther away in the night, the man moves much more quietly back to his camp, his true home, In the
He is returning to himself and is happier than he has felt for years, the shallow veneer of the so-called civilization that he is pealing back replacing with calm and fortitude for his Wilderness Return.
Perhaps they will dance tomorrow night, he will be ready as he is training daily, for the dance to come.
Written by Wilderness Return Pen Name
Note: From Collection of Personal writings, this was written just after moving to the property I live on, after a One Year absence of writing anything other than Blog entries.