“Going on a journey, yes?” asked Catchflea, absently shaking a dry gourd. Something rattled within. “A long, long journey?”
“Very long,” admitted Riverwind. He wondered who would be the old man's champion once he was gone. “I may not come back for months, perhaps years.” The thought gave him little pleasure.
“I'll miss you. No one else brings me rabbits.” When Riverwind had a good hunt, he always shared his bounty with the old star chaser. In some ways, he was like Wanderer, Riverwind's father. Both men were dreamers in a tribe that did not esteem deep reflection.
“If you are going away, Catchflea has a gift, yes.”
“What is it, my friend?”
Catchflea scratched his sharp nose. Beads and small bells tinkled in his matted beard. “Something to help you, yes.” He moved the spotted yellow gourd in a wide circle. The top was cut out, and Riverwind could see small brown objects bouncing around inside. Catchflea crooned in a surprisingly tuneful voice:
“All that comes and all that goes
Moves in an endless circle.
Count the days and count the stars
Starting then and ending now.”
Riverwind could make little sense of that. When he had finished singing this twice, Catchflea dumped the contents of the gourd out on the hard, dry earth. “Ha!” he exclaimed.
Three acorns lay in the dirt. They'd fallen in a rough triangle, with one point aimed directly at Riverwind.
“Here is your journey in a nutshell. Three nutshells!” The old man wheezed a brief laugh, accompanied by the faint tinkle of his beard bells. “This says you will go far away and be gone a long time,” he said, pointing to the nut nearest Riverwind. “This means you will go amidst great darkness.” He tapped a second acorn with one cracked and dirty nail.