They went on for a week, speaking only of the precautions they needed to follow in order to avoid the battles between the tribes.
The war continued, and at times the wind carried the sweet, sickly smell of blood.
Battles had been fought nearby, and the wind reminded the boy that there was the language of omens,
always ready to show him what his eyes had failed to observe.
On the seventh day, the alchemist decided to make camp earlier than usual.
The falcon flew off to find game, and the alchemist offered his water container to the boy.
“You are almost at the end of your journey,” said the alchemist. “I congratulate you for having pursued your Personal Legend.”
“And you’ve told me nothing along the way,” said the boy. “I thought you were going to teach me some of the things you know.
A while ago, I rode through the desert with a man who had books on alchemy. But I wasn’t able to learn anything from them.”
“There is only one way to learn,” the alchemist answered. “It’s through action.
Everything you need to know you have learned through your journey. You need to learn only one thing more.”
The boy wanted to know what that was, but the alchemist was searching the horizon, looking for the falcon.
전체재생
다음페이지
문장검색