He would hang around by the rock today, despite what his mother had said. It wasn't like it was a rough or dangerous spot: anywhere in front of the rock was visible to the whole marketplace and well-trafficked by good people. The shady places were behind the rock, and the kid knew not to go back there alone. That's where the scary men were who always wanted to sell him something from their tents. He never knew what they were offering, but felt he didn't want to find out. For the most part the market clearing was a friendly spot, with an always interesting mix of people from all sorts of places and professions. Local merchants conducted a lively trade with those who came through from all four directions. Many left for the summit camps, returning the next day or not at all. He knew they did not all stay up at the top of the mountain; a road kept going south from there. His mother worked at a place on the north road, but he knew that the north and south roads were really one Long Road that connected all the mountain peaks together. The east and west roads went down into the valleys, and had names connected to old cities where they began. The Clearing felt like the center of the world sometimes; a high place where the directions met and mingled.
A heavy-duty hauler was parked by the entrance to the north road. They would probably be Long Road Trippers, bound for the far northern country. The kid always found those folks interesting. Sometimes they were from distant lands, come to experience the wonders of these rural mountains. They would have different sorts of dress, modified of course for back-country travel. They would bring strange and exciting things to trade in the markets sometimes too, purchasing their essentials with wondrous and valuable coinage. It wasn't only for people-watching that he spent his days about the square though. He would moon about the center of town, exploring and drawing in his sketchbook. Occasionally a vendor or traveler would give him a treat like a piece of candy or sweetbread. Sometimes they would give him a trinket from their journeys, which was usually better because he could sell it, buy a treat, and still have some money left over. Watching the crew at their hauler, he wondered what kinds of things they were carrying.
His mom would be gone at work most of the day, as she was most days. He didn't mind her schedule: they had a warm and close relationship as it was just the two of them at home, and a lack of supervision gave him a freedom about town when he wasn't forced to stay inside and study. They lived just beyond the edge of the Clearing, near the west road. It was a large township, with many visitors, and there was always something to entertain a young curious boy. At the same time though it was small enough that he could explore almost all of it with ease and safety. Unbeknownst to him as he went about his days, the townsfolk kept a communal protective eye on the local kid.
He was feeling lazy today. The morning home-work had been a slog, trying to read and remember facts and formulas he didn't care about learning. It felt much better to just sit out here in the sun by the warmth of the marketplace rock, watching the world. The usual vendors had set up in rows close to the base of the boulder, leaving a dusty gathering space in the center. From his vantage point he looked down at the northern row; stalls flanking a wide path to the plaza where the hauler van was parked. It was a calm morning, with only a few people moving about the square. Looking at the various sellers, something caught his eye. He noticed that the owner of one stall was having difficulty in setting up for the day. They were evidently late to get to the square, and something had gone wrong as well with their tent supports. The vendor was alone, and the kid realized he recognized them from previous visits to the market. They were usually here with another person, but today seemed to be setting up all by themselves. It was not going well at all for them, and they seemed to be actually on the point of breaking when a young woman walking by stopped to help. She held the opposite end of the tent-stall, allowing the vendor to secure the damaged support. She even seemed to help make an extra strong brace so the tent would be stable. The vendor looked immensely touched by the help, and sank down on a chair saying something the kid could not hear.
Despite not being able to hear what they spoke of, the kid could tell the effect of the conversation that followed. There was something about the presence of the young woman. Something about her facial countenance or the way she held the energy of the space seemed to make the vendor open up to her. She had stepped in to help without a second thought, and had lent her expertise in a way that did not force itself upon the other. She listened to the troubles of this stranger, whatever they might be, and left them with what looked to the kid like a feeling of hope. There was a power to this young woman he realized, one which did not often come through the Clearing. It was the power of a leader, not one who seeks ruling office, but one who quietly does the work of helping the world to right itself. She held a command of her energy that allowed her to be wholly of service to another without losing or breaking herself to the process.
As the kid watched her return to her party (coincidentally the group at the hauler), he thought there should be more people like her in the world. He saw her interact with the others, and saw her power reflected in their own. They each had their own kind of energy he realized, harmonizing together. By being together they could better grow, inflecting in more and more complex patterns. The kid blinked and shook his head a bit. The thoughts that had arisen from watching the young woman were confusing. Maybe, he thought, if he could one day become like her, then maybe he would understand them.
