The trees have eyes, or so it seemed to Moki as he began his journey into adulthood. The first night in the wilderness with no protection convinced him the task which lay before him would not be easy. As brave as he thought himself to be, the noises of the night were disconcerting. He slept little, wary of every snapping twig and moving bush. At daybreak his courage returned. The dried deer meat, he'd been allowed to bring, eased the ache in his belly. He got off to an early start. Thoughts of winning the hand of the beautiful maiden, Charisa, spurred him on.

Aside from the fury of a sudden thunderstorm on the second day, things went well. He managed to find a stream to follow as he traveled. Berries, edible plants, and mushrooms were plentiful. After traveling two days and many miles from the safety of the camp, a new challenge made everything which had gone before seem of no significance.

He spent the second night on a large flat surface atop a boulder beneath some trees. Accustomed now to the usual noises of the night, his wary ears picked up a different sound, which awakened him with a jolt. It was already morning and later than he'd intended to sleep. His body stiffened and fear bordering on terror jarred him to full consciousness.

Peering, through a network of branches extending upward, he saw the figure of a man on an adjacent still higher boulder. The man was holding a shotgun pointed directly at his head. Never before had he been so completely alone and at the mercy of his own wits to maintain his survival. Never before had he faced a man with a skin color so light. Never before had he been deliberately targeted by another human being.

Neighboring tribes sometimes squabbled with his people over hunting grounds, and occasionally, they were forced to fight for what they considered rightfully theirs, but there was enough territory to go around. A show of strength was usually enough to keep others at a distance.

Aparently this man wasn't interested in capturing him. It seemed his only objective was to kill him. He had heard stories of a pale race. His father had warned that some of these pale-skins hated his people because they feared them, and because they wanted to claim the hunting grounds of redskin tribes.

Had it not been for Moki's quick thinking, his agile young body, and the man's clumsy reaction to his sudden movement, he would have become the victim of his predator immediately. Instinctively, he twisted his body and rolled quickly over the edge of the cliff. He slid downward about thirty feet ripping his arms and legs on the growth of underbrush and briars that clung to side of the steep rock. His decent ended abruptly when he rammed into the base of a large bush, saving him from falling several hundred feet to an instant death.

Moki detected a glimpse of the man's red plaid shirt and his head and cheeks covered with long bushy hair as he moved about peering over the cliff. Moki lay still, hardly daring to breathe, as he assessed the situation. Perhaps if he didn't move, the man would think he was dead and leave him alone. The man extracted a rope from his backpack and tied it to a large tree near the edge of the cliff. Apparently, he intended to make sure his victim had not survived the fall. With the rope secured to his waist, the man turned his back to begin his decent.

Moki knew the time had come to made his move. He eased out slowly and carefully so as not to make noise or cause a further fall. Grasping what vegetation he could, he inched himself around the side of the cliff until he spied a small opening that appeared to lead to some kind of cavern in the rock.

Although reluctant to take a chance on becoming trapped at a dead end, he realized this was his best chance of escape. He had injured his right ankle and wrist in the fall and was bleeding from numerous cuts. Because of the precipitous cliff and the fact his pursuer carried a gun, Moki's choices were limited. He squeezed himself, feet first, through the narrow slit into a dark and wet chamber of rock. Reaching back, he pulled dead branches against the opening and prayed to the Great Spirit to keep him from being discovered and to not allow him to disturb the den of a mountain lion.

The cave dropped off steeply and Moki was surprised at how large it was. No light, other than that of the slit through which he had entered was visible. Moki blinked allowing his eyes to become accustomed to the darkness. The rocks in the cave were damp and slippery. Cautiously, he descended a few feet. Groping around in the darkness, he found a small stone, tossed it into the space, and listened for its sound to reach him. Seconds passed before he heard a faint splash.

Realizing his perilous position, he clutched the edge of a crag and lay still and waited. If he could out-wait his pursuer, he would attempt to crawl back up and exit the cave the way he had entered. He shivered from the cold and damp. Hungry pains gnawed at his stomach and his muscles throbbed, but still he waited. The shaft of light dimmed and then darkened until only the light of the full moon was discernible. Surely now, it would be safe to come out. Moki began to inch his way up toward the exit.

His moccasin came in contact with piece of rock that felt firm. He shifted his weight against and reached to find something he could use to pull himself up. Suddenly, there was a sharp snap as the rock below his foot gave way. Moki found himself sliding faster and faster down a smooth wet bolder into the darkness below. Frantically, he clawed at the slippery rock trying to stop his descent. He expected at any moment to be plunged into space or hurled into the water, which lay somewhere below.

His slide ended abruptly when he slammed into a large stalagmite. He was now another fifty feet below the spot where he had entered. The moonlight was no longer visible. Somewhere in the distance, he could hear the roar of a waterfall. The pain in his ankle was intense, but the seriousness of the situation forced him to ignore the pain. He thought of Charisa and wondered if he would ever again see her laughing eyes. He felt in his pouch for the eagle feather she had given him for courage that last night at the campfire.

Three days ago when he left the camp, he began a journey which, if all went well, would last until the new moon hung low in the western sky. The council met, the chief ruled and his destiny was decided. The chief's daughter pled with her father to spare him this dangerous journey, but his fate could have been worse. This way Charisa would have the right to choose him rather than be given in marriage to Matwau. Had the council of elders not intervened, Moki could have faced a quick death at the hand of Matwau. The brave had a talent for ruthless bloodshed and was anxious to challenge his rival to a duel with knives. The fair maiden had been promised moons ago to Matwau because of his courage in battle. Charisa pled with her father to allow her a choice, but Moki's courage had not yet been proven. If he endured this test of survival, the maiden would be allowed to choose.

His mission was to cross the great mountains to the desert region beyond. His task was to bring back a section of cactus and a deer skin bag filled with white sand found only in the desert as proof of completing the journey. He was forbidden to take food, water, or weapons. Few young men sent on such a journey returned. The way was perilous and not to be undertaken by cowards. The grief in his mother's eyes warned him that she didn't expect to see him again.

Moki opened his leather pouch and extracted the two pieces of flint he had picked up along the way. He also had some dry grasses, which would ignite readily. Still if he used it now, it would burn quickly and without fuel, he would not have light long. He struck the two flint stones together and was rewarded with several brilliant sparks. The stones felt comforting to his touch, but it was best to wait till morning and not extinguish this small ray of hope too soon. In the darkness, he wasn't sure how he would recognize morning, but for now, he was exhausted. He lay back and closed his eyes. Despite the pain and dampness, he soon fell asleep.

Hours later, he awoke sore and stiff. He sat up quickly and reached for the pouch. He sensed the night had past, although there was no way of knowing for sure. He felt around and found a small stalagmite. Its tip was thin and he was able to break it into several pieces. By tossing them at different distances, he determined he was about twenty feet from the stream. He crawled, feeling his way until he reached it. The water seemed shallow where he was. He dipped a finger into the stream and then placed it to his tongue. It tasted sweet and pure. Cupping his hand, he scooped some up and drank, long and deep. The hunger had returned, but all he had for nourishment was a small bit of the beef jerky. He would wait as long as possible before chewing on it. The taste might make the hungry pains worse.

Still on his hands and knees, he felt his way along the side of the steam. The sound of the falls told him he was going away from it. He kept his eyes closed because he had heard from the elders that staring into total blackness could make one go blind. After about twenty minutes, his bruised knees throbbed and his hands were bleeding from stone cuts. Feeling a draft on his face, he opened his eyes. Was that a sliver of light in the distance, or were his eyes playing tricks on him? Excited, he tried to stand up.

His head bumped into solid rock. Pain shot through him as he fell back to his knees. He raised himself again, this time slowly. The ceiling of the cave was not quite five feet in this area. As long as he stooped forward slightly and moved carefully, he could walk. He continued toward what he hoped was light and freedom.

The light disappeared and reappeared because of the many stalagmites and stalactites, which often blocked his vision. After what seemed like hours, he could no longer touch the ceiling of the cave. He was certain now daylight lay ahead, but still a long way off. His moccasin touched something hard that felt like a stick. He reached down and grasped a bone approximately two feet long. He couldn't imagine an animal with bones so long, but at least, he could use it to feel his way along. He was about to take another step when his foot felt no solid rock beneath it.

Finding a pebble he tossed it a few feet in front of him. The sound came back to him seconds later from far below. His heart sank. He couldn't go further in this direction without falling into space. If he was forced to go away from the light, he might never escape from the cave.

Retreating a few feet, his hand found what felt like a narrow passageway, between two boulders. Nothing but blackness lay before him but the opening lead in the general direction of the light. At least here, there was solid rock below his feet. Cautiously, he proceeded about twelve feet. The passageway turned sharply and narrowed. Again, he thought he glimpsed light in the distance.

Further alone, the passage became so narrow he had difficulty squeezing through, but he pressed on. At last, he exited the narrow area without becoming trapped. Now, he could definitely determine there was an opening in the cave still in the distance and above him perhaps forty feet. He could make out traces of blue sky and trees. He heart leaped for joy. Surely now, he could make his way to freedom.

Moving cautiously, at last he came to a steep wall of rock. A shaft of light shone down from the opening The light shining on the sides of the wall, made him realize climbing it would be next to impossible. Nevertheless he had to try. If he stayed here longer, he would surely starve, and he wasn't going back into the darkness.

About ten feet above him, he could make out a ledge large enough to stand on if he could reach it. Grasping a jagged rock, he managed to pull himself up part of way. The bone, which he still carried, had a sharp edge where it had been broken. He used this to dig out places where soil clung to the rock enough to make toe holds. After an hour of hard work and many falls, he reached the ledge. Once there, he could see that the cave wall was not quite a steep as it had appeared from below.

After a short rest, the going was easier. Here the wall had crevices and projections of stone he could grasp. With renewed determination, he went about the task of climbing, determined to make it to freedom by nightfall. The sun was sinking in the west when he climbed out of the cave, which had almost become his tomb. He was bruised, bleeding, hungry, thirsty and exhausted but so relieved to be part of the outside world.

His most pressing need was something to ease the dryness in his throat so he allowed himself little time to rest, before taking up his journey again. Just before the last light of day was gone, he located a small bush covered with berries. The moisture of the berries, although tart, relieved his pressing need for water. He could have eaten all of the berries without satisfying his hungry. Instead, he filled the pouch, as insurance against the thirst he knew would come again unless he could locate a stream soon.

The night air was cold and damp. He could have started a fire easily with the flint but he dared not, knowing it might alert his enemies. In the distance on another ridge, he saw a light flickering in a cabin. His recent encounter with the white man was an indication he would not likely find a friendly face in these parts. The further away from civilization, the better for him.

Fighting off the urge to rest, Moki made his way toward the far ridge. He knew by the position of the Dog Star this was the direction of his destination. The night was his friend. In spite of sore muscles and a bruised body, he moved quickly. By the light of the moon, he located a stream and quenched his thirst. By morning, he was past the top of the ridge. Only then, did he dare stop and make a bed in a thicket beneath a grove of juniper bushes.

At last he rested. Though he slept lightly ready to waken at any unusual sound, he felt refreshed after a few hours. He was up before daylight with hunger pains gnawing at his stomach. He still had the bone from the cave. He was able to break it in such a way to give him a sharp edge he could use as a spear. Back in his village, he had been taught to harpoon fish with the flint spears of his tribe. Shedding his moccasins, he waded out into the stream to wait. By now, there was enough light to detect movement below the rippling icy water. Moving quickly, he speared a large speckled trout.

Hunger tempted him to eat without cooking. However, the thought of raw fish caused his stomach to retch. He wasn't sure whether or not it was safe to light a fire, but he'd gone miles without seeing signs of civilization, so he decided to take the chance. Soon with the flint rock and dry grass, he had a blaze going. He took a branch and pealed away the leaves and made a spit, which he poked through the belly of the fish. He held it over the open flame until it was roasted. As soon as the fish cooled, he wolfed it down.

Now, as he began his journey again, he felt a renewed strength and confidence in his ability to survive. He had been tested and he'd overcome the odds. He was no longer a the same boy who began this journey. He'd proved himself a man. There were be other hurdles to face, but he would conquer them as well He was a survivor. In his heart, he knew Charisa would someday be his. It was just a matter of time.