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“I don’t have one, or better said, I don’t wish to tell it to you.”

“Everyone has a name.”

“Oh, I had one my whole life, but I never liked it, so I’ve been seeking a new one for over two years, now.”

The revelation answered a few questions, but brought up a hundred others, such as who this strange person was, why was he here, and how did the conversation always end up with Shell feeling inadequate? “Then what do people call you?”

The smile faded. “I don’t meet a lot of people and don’t like most of them that I do, so I don’t give them my name. I’ve tried several, but John, Ander, Sander, and Bob don’t fit. Bob, do you think I look like a Bob?”

“No,” Shell admitted with a smile.

“A name should be personal. It should say something about a man.”

“So you do not have one and are seeking a name that fits you for two whole years? I can understand some of that. Do you live around here?”

A fleeting expression of pain crossed the stranger’s face, but he quickly controlled it. “No. I lived in the mountains far to the west, but raiders killed almost everyone in my village and the few that survived went to live with relatives. They didn’t like me, so I left.”

Shell waited for more explanation, and when it didn’t come, he said, “I didn’t know there were mountains to the west, only the Raging Mountains over there.” He nodded his head at the white peaks. “How long ago did you leave and what are you doing here?”

“You ask a lot of questions for a stranger. I left two years ago and have been seeking my future. I’m here because I ended up here because of my wandering, but for no other reason than that.”

Shell stood again and faced the taller man, an idea forming. He liked the honesty and frankness of the other, and there was much to learn from him in the ways of tracking if nothing else. He said, “I think I know what your name should be, and you’ve used it two or three times to describe yourself since we met.”

The other waited, but grew impatient and fidgeted until he figured out he had to ask Shell to find out. “What?”

“Seeker.”

A smile slowly grew into a chuckle and then turned into a laugh. “I like that. I’m a seeker, but also more than that. I am on a quest to find the rest of my life. Seeker is close, but I think Quester will be my name until I decide on another that fits me better. And now, Shell, what are you doing here with no other people within a day’s walk?”

“I’m also seeking my future, on a quest of my own.”

“In what way?”

Shell hesitated. How much should he reveal? The truth was that he didn’t have to tell it all. Not yet. “I’ve never done anything in my life but watch over a flock of stupid sheep. One of those mountains to the east is called Bear Mountain. They say dragons nest on the slopes.”

“You know that for the truth, or is it just a story?”

“I believe it, but have not seen it, Quester.” The last was Shell trying out the new name, and it sounded right to his ears.

Quester smiled again upon hearing it and nodded his approval. “Are you by chance traveling to see those dragons?”

“I am.”

“I’ve heard about dragons and how fierce they are, and I would like to see one. From a distance. Would you object to me traveling with you?”

CHAPTER FOUR

Quester and Shell shook hands, and by mutual agreement headed east in the direction of Bear Mountain and the dragons said to live on the high slopes. Quester took the lead. While Shell normally didn’t make rash decisions, especially those so important as choosing a traveling companion, Quester gave him a sense of friendliness and confidence.

Having someone to travel with provided protection for both, but it was more than that. Quester had been living on his own in the grasslands for two years and was still alive. He possessed a wealth of knowledge that Shell could learn from, and after the experience on the trail where Quester had managed to sneak up and tickle Shell’s ear, Shell had a lot to learn. If Quester had been an enemy Shell would be dead.

Shell said, “You tricked me back there. You intentionally left footprints crossing the path that I couldn’t help but see. You knew I’d wait there watching down the hillside where the tracks pointed, trying to find you while you slipped up on me from behind.”

“I’d been watching you all day. A lesson, if you will listen. Who, what, and how many are following us this instant?”

Shell spun to examine their back trail.

Quester said, “Relax. There are none. I know because I take the time to check behind me. So, should you.”

Shell thought about how silly he must have appeared as he squatted beside the path and remained still as a rock, and watched down the slope, while Quester slipped close behind and tickled his ear repeatedly. It was a harmless lesson that might save his life someday.

“At first, I thought it a simple trick, and I was angry.”

“Simple? Probably, but more than that. I call it misdirection. I convinced you to look in one direction while I used the other to my benefit.”

“You’ve done things like that before?” Shell asked.

“Never the ear tickle, but yes. I’ve misdirected a pair of bandits, a crazy old man who kills and eats people for dinner, a sheriff upset at a lamb I ‘borrowed,’ and a few others. Once I pretended to be a herder and talked to a farmer and his son who were chasing after a thief that stole food from their garden. They wanted to hang him from a tree. I pointed to where I wanted them to go, saying I’d spotted myself over there.”

Shell laughed. The revelations provided insights into how Quester had managed to survive in a treeless wilderness for so long. It sounded like he didn’t hesitate to steal, but if you're hungry, choices have to be made. He said, “With two of us working together, we should be able to find food without having people chase us.”

“With two of us, there will be twice the mouths to feed.”

“If you teach me how to shoot my bow, maybe our hunting will take care of that. Besides, you know how to find plants and food, and I probably know other ways. Between us, we may do well.” He didn’t mention what would happen after reaching Bear Mountain when Shell would continue alone on his venture. Also, the idea of traveling with one who was not of the Dragon Clan felt odd and dangerously wrong. Shell had to watch his every word, as well as keep his back covered. The dragon birthmark on it was not as large as some others, or as intricate, but there was no mistaking it.

“You carry a staff because you’re a herder?” Quester asked, his eyes on the battered staff Shell had carried for years.

“It’s a weapon.”

“My bow is a weapon. You carry a stick.”

Shell kept his temper in check but realized that he’d heard a trace of humor in the voice as if Quester wanted to draw a response. It explained that Quester also had questions about them traveling together. Shell decided to settle the issue. “Your bow is good for hunting and fighting from a distance, but up close a staff is the deadliest weapon ever devised.”

“Ha, don’t they have swords where you come from?”

The humor came easy, but there was no doubt Quester didn’t believe a staff was effective when compared to a sword. Shell held his tongue, but when Quester picked up a small stick from the side of a dry stream and pretended to fight enemies with it as he laughed and mocked him, Shell halted and spotted another stick the diameter of his thumb, the length of a sword. He tossed it to Quester. “A sword. Try it on me.”

Quester snorted with derision, then suddenly attacked, swinging the pretend sword high above his head, waving it from side to side. He charged as he cut and stabbed. Shell casually blocked the moves, his staff always reaching the ‘sword’ before it touched him.