Ming awoke before the sun had fully risen, the soft gray light seeping through the cracks in his hut. His white pillow was still clutched to his chest, warm and familiar, a fragile anchor against the thoughts swirling in his mind.
Yesterday's events replayed endlessly: the swan's sharp, knowing eyes; the monkey's shameless antics; the eagle's silent, piercing gaze.
They are not ordinary… each of them carries something I don't understand.
He rubbed his temples, hugging the pillow tighter. I need to understand them. Fully. All of them. I can't keep being surprised by their actions, by what they say… by what they are.
Stepping outside, Ming immediately sought the eagle. The bird perched high, unmoving, feathers glinting in the dim morning light.
"Eagle," Ming said, voice hesitant but firm. "I… I need to know. Do you… know everything? About the mountain? About me?"
The eagle's sharp gaze never wavered. Not a word, not a flicker beyond its piercing eyes.
"I… I need the truth!" Ming pressed, heart tightening.
The eagle blinked once, deliberate, unyielding. Silence stretched like a wall between them.
Ming clenched his pillow, exhaling in frustration. "Of course… you never speak. Why did I even hope?"
The bird's eyes remained sharp, judging, patient, revealing nothing, but Ming could feel the weight of its awareness, cold and precise.
Turning to the little monkey, Ming tried another approach.
"Little monkey… tell me the truth. You know everything, don't you?"
The monkey tilted his head, ears flicking, and squeaked innocently. "Hah? I… I don't understand, Ming!"
"Don't pretend! You were first to arrive here. Then the eagle… now the swan. Today, you will answer me!" Ming's voice rose slightly.
The monkey bounced on the rock, squeaking again. "Answer you? What is this… answer? I don't even know the question!"
Ming's patience thinned. "Enough! You, the eagle, and the swan… all of you already know. Am I correct?"
The monkey cocked his head. "Hmm… maybe. Or maybe not. What do you think, Ming?"
Ming groaned, rubbing his forehead. "Why do you always turn everything back on me?"
The monkey chirped mischievously: "Because it's fun! Hah! I like seeing your face all red!"
Ming clenched his pillow tighter. "Then tell me! How many… how many came to this mountain?"
The monkey tapped his tiny fingers one by one. "One… two… three…"
Ming blinked. "No… you're not serious."
The monkey squeaked louder. "I am serious! But… maybe you want all the numbers?"
Ming exhaled sharply. "Just… tell me. How many?"
The monkey's eyes sparkled, tail flicking. "I counted… all of them. Only a thousand. You want them here? I'll call them immediately!"
Ming froze, disbelief painted across his face. He turned away, muttering, "You… you're impossible…"
The monkey flopped on the ground, watching Ming walk away. Hah! He doesn't know what to do. So tense… so serious. I like it!
The swan, perched elegantly nearby, observed quietly, wings folded. He is more stubborn than I imagined. Curious, yes… perceptive, yes… but he clings to trivialities. Patience, little one… let him learn in time.
The monkey squeaked suddenly. "Ming! Don't forget! I counted them all! Thousand monkeys… ready to come at a word!"
Ming didn't answer, continuing toward the stream to bathe, mind racing with disbelief and worry.
Ming filled the basin with water from the stream, letting it run over his hands, face, and shoulders. The tension in his body loosened slightly, but his mind remained restless.
Why do I care so much about answers I may never get?
He thought of the eagle's silent gaze. Unyielding… precise… impossible to read.
He recalled the monkey's playful antics. Always mischief, always hiding what he knows… but he understands more than I give him credit for.
And the swan… her sharp, knowing eyes. Gentle, teasing, but she sees through me like glass. Why… why do I feel… unsettled by her presence?
The water ran warm over him, easing his exhaustion, but his thoughts sharpened. I've been chasing answers too much. Understanding them, not the numbers… that is what matters.
Stepping out of the stream, water dripping from his hair, Ming dried himself carefully. Pillow under one arm, he looked across the mountain. Sunlight fell golden over the trees, the rocks, and the companions scattered across the slopes.
Yes… all of them are strange. All unique. But I cannot focus on their mysteries… not yet.
He made a choice. I will focus on understanding the companions themselves. One by one. Learn their habits, their thoughts, their hearts. That is the path forward.
The monkey squeaked from a nearby branch, tail flicking with interest, eyes bright with playful anticipation.
The swan, elegant and silent, watched him, tilting her head ever so slightly, her wings folded neatly. A faint, teasing smile brushed her beak.
The eagle soared above, still, precise, a living shadow against the mountain sky.
Ming hugged his pillow once more. All of them… I will understand them, in time.
The sun had almost set, painting the mountain in golden and amber streaks. Ming stepped slowly along the narrow trail that led from his hut toward the forest edge. Pillow still clutched to his chest, he walked in silence, the sounds of the monkey's distant squeaks and the swan's subtle rustle fading behind him.
I cannot rush understanding. I cannot force answers… he thought. All of them have their ways, their secrets. I must walk my own path first.
The breeze brushed his face, cool and gentle, carrying the faint scent of pine and the earthy smell of the stream. The mountain seemed to stretch endlessly before him, quiet and patient. For the first time that day, Ming felt a sense of clarity, even if small.
He paused on a rock overlooking the valley below, watching shadows lengthen and merge with the coming night. Each of them—monkey, swan, eagle—they will reveal themselves in time. But I… I have my own path. I must grow, observe, and learn at my own pace.
He hugged the pillow tighter, feeling the softness against his chest, a reminder of calm in the swirl of uncertainties. Today, I took the first step. Tomorrow, I take another. And the day after, I will continue, steady and unyielding, like the mountain itself.
The little monkey appeared from behind a tree, squeaking softly, tail flicking in silent acknowledgment. The swan shifted her wings gracefully nearby, eyes glimmering with unreadable thoughts. Even the eagle, perched high on a cliff, seemed to watch him, silent but ever-present.
Ming exhaled, shoulders relaxing. I do not need to know everything today. I only need to walk my path, step by step, and understand what I can.
The evening light dimmed, stars beginning to prick the darkening sky. Ming turned back toward his hut, the path ahead uncertain but his steps steady. His heart felt lighter, the weight of questions eased by his decision: to walk, to learn, to understand—on his own terms.
And as he moved forward, he realized the mountain—and its unusual companions—would not just challenge him, but guide him, if he could only remain patient and observant.
The world around him was vast, strange, and full of wonders, yet Ming finally felt the first spark of true purpose. The path he walked was his alone—but no longer lonely.