Free The PriZin of Zin by Loretta Sinclair

him. “No,” he cried, unable to wipe the tears of fear from his eyes through the deer skull. Turning to run, he tripped over Mikey’s gigantic feet and landed face down in the dirt, antlers stuck in the ground. Rolling over to try and free his head, Hunter struggled with the mask. Sliding it off, he rolled over to see that he was completely surrounded by the tribe of Indians and Bigfeet. Lying on the ground, the string still hovered over his head. It wiggled for a second over his face, seeming to sniff him, then moved ever so slightly and touched the very tip of the thread on Hunter’s chest, over his heart.
    At once, the panic and fear that Hunter had known his whole life were gone. A calming peace that he had never thought possible washed over him. He felt washed clean. From the inside he felt white as snow. He closed his eyes and relished the feeling of complete serenity for the first time in his life.
    Filled with a joy and an indescribable peace, Hunter smiled and opened his eyes.
    He was alone.
     

Chapter 10: Focus
    fo·cus: noun \ˈfō- kə s\a state or condition permitting clear perception
    or understanding

     
    The sky was gray and the ground cold and hard. Hunter felt as though he was in a dream— neither here nor there. Not really anywhere. He could not tell up from down through the thick fog surrounding him. The feelings of peace and comfort were still with him, although all sense of time and place were gone. Still lying on the ground, the only frame of reference he had for his location was the cold campfire surrounded by the log benches, now empty and devoid of all heat and flame, and the silvery string that still attached itself to Hunter’s heart.
    He tried to touch it, but his hand went right through, as though the string wasn’t even there. Almost like a ghost, but not. He could see it, and he could feel it, yet he could not grab it.
    You cannot touch the Maker; He must touch you . The words echoed in his head. Again he tried to grasp the silver attachment, and again his hand passed through the string in the mist as though it was water.
    Hunter stood. As he moved, the string moved with him. It passed through his body as he turned around to survey his surroundings. Turning a complete circle he saw the same thing. With a visual field of about ten feet in any single direction, beyond that, all was gray. Turning back to the fire, the buck skull was still at his feet, antlers stuck in the dirt. He bent forward and wrestled it loose. Lifting it from the ground, the mist revealed a pile of stones underneath. Hunter felt a chill. These were the very stones he’d used this afternoon to train on the tree. Recognizing the color and the size, he bent to grab one. It was the same smooth finish that fit perfectly into his small hand. Keeping it close, he took a step out into the mist. Walking only a few feet one direction, and then back again, Hunter was afraid to leave the fire pit. Stepping out into the mist, he changed his mind and turned back, panicked.
    Next to the fire where he’d just been was a large brown shape. A mound, low to the ground and very blurred, it moved slightly. It had not been there just a second before. Hunter tried to run. He turned back the opposite way, and was met with multiple sets of red glaring eyes. Frozen, he turned back to the fire. Clenching his hands in fear, he gripped the stone harder. With the instinct of a trained huntsman, he raised his arm over his head ready to strike.
    The large brown mound made a sound. It wasn’t really a growl, more like a purr, then it moved again.
    “Mikey!”
    Hunter leapt through the mist and threw himself onto the mound on the ground, hugging his friend. He didn’t even bother to cover his nose this time.
    Mikey raised a finger to his lips in a quieting gesture. Hunter nodded and settled back down on the ground at his feet. Together, the two surveyed the multiple sets of glowing red eyes trained on them from every possible angle.
    “What