Copyright 1979 & 2003 Karlene Kubat
The Marchman by Karlene Kubat I He knelt over a recent mud flow on the slope of a pine-quilled ridge, examining a boot's print stamped in the shiny rivulet of mud.
The nearly perfect imprint was clear
and fresh in the maroon ooze creeping down from the volcanic throat of towering Mount Rubora.
Standing up too
quickly in the high elevation he rocked in dizziness, slamming one boot awkwardly into the soft mud. mildly, yanking
He cursed
back his foot and staring down.
His mark
was laid close beside the other he had found and the difference in the size of the prints surprised him. Alongside his print the other was smaller and oddly lanceolate, a unique boot.
There was little reason to