Спрут: Каліфорнійська історія

           Wedon’tunderstandthesethingsyet.Therearetimeswhen,ifIclosemyeyesanddigmyfistsintomytemples,Icanholdtheentireherdforperhapsaminute.Perhaps,though,it’simagination,whoknows?Butit’sgoodtoseeyouagain.Howlonghasitbeensincethelasttime?Two,three,nearlyfiveyears.”

           Itwasmorethanthat.ItwassixyearssincePresleyandVanameehadmet,andthenithadbeenforashorttimeonly,duringoneoftheshepherd’speriodicalbriefreturnstothatpartofthecountry.DuringaweekheandPresleyhadbeenmuchtogether,forthetwoweredevotedfriends.Then,asabruptly,asmysteriouslyashehadcome,Vanameedisappeared.Presleyawokeonemorningtofindhimgone.Thus,ithadbeenwithVanameeforaperiodofsixteenyears.Helivedhislifeintheunknown,onecouldnottellwhere—inthedesert,inthemountains,throughoutallthevastandvagueSouth-west,solitary,strange.Three,four,fiveyearspassed.Theshepherdwouldbealmostforgotten.NeverthemosttrivialscrapofinformationastohiswhereaboutsreachedLosMuertos.Hehadmeltedoffintothesurface-shimmerofthedesert,intothemirage;hesankbelowthehorizons;hewasswallowedupinthewasteofsandandsage.Then,withoutwarning,hewouldreappear,cominginfromthewilderness,emergingfromtheunknown.Nooneknewhimwell.Inallthatcountrysidehehadbutthreefriends,Presley,MagnusDerrick,andthepriestattheMissionofSanJuandeGuadalajara,FatherSarria.Heremainedalwaysamystery,livingalifehalf-real,half-legendary.