A Rope over the Abyss (Between Beast and Superman) - Day 5 (Vienne to Castres)

"Give me a star to aim for, tell me what it takes and I'll go so high, I'll go so high my feet won't touch the ground" - Macklemore

Millau Viaduct

Karura stood at the bottom of the greatest pier. His intention had been to ride over the Millau bridge, but he became inexorably pulled towards the almost silent underworld where horses play and 'penicillium roquefort' infused ewes' milk ferments in caves. An interesting decision. He felt himself reclining onto his back at the side of the river allowing the coolness of the long grass to sharpen his senses to the songs of crickets and the smell of wild herbs. An Eiffel Tower above him, the pinnacle of the rainbow bridge shimmered in the haze and an almost silent procession of cars took flight. Perhaps he had felt the whitest of gods keeping vigil at the southern end, watching, waiting for the final battle. Or perhaps Karura himself, so recently divested of his bandages and veil, was not ready for this stage of the journey.

It was silent now as once again Karura entered the moment.

Millau Viaduct

Karura fixated on the rope over the abyss. As he watched, the shimmering path seemed to turn to fire, rendering the whole massive structure a molten flux of brilliant steel and concrete. Observing further, the fire grew stronger, fingers of blue hot flame stabbing towards him, fearsomely, invitingly. The heat was beginning to melt his clothes as the sky tore in two releasing a sheet of lightening which crashed through the heavens directly enveloping his pounding skull. At the same moment, Karura's eyes were blinded by rivulets of sweat splashing from his forehead, salting his lips; an aching fear anchored Karura to the spot. The coolness of the grass and the heat of the bridge obliterated consciousness of anything other, searing into his soul, tearing at his mind, threatening another chasm of cataclysmic proportions. He had glimpsed the land of the gods, a noumenal realm so holy so other, a truth so final, that it took the most tremendous all too human madness to break back to his own.

Bifröst - The Rainbow Bridge

Karura roared his lungs raw, revelling in the bitter sweet taste of eternity. As the beast shrank away, he hauled himself just one non-step back from the brink and peered down far below where he could faintly make out a river. Close to its banks, oblivious to the battle that had raged above, wild horses grazed.

The rain came slowly at first, dripping huge droplets onto his pungently new leather jacket, seeping down before moistening the dust of three millennia. Then faster and faster it poured, hammering into him until Karura was soaked through the skin laughing as he had never laughed before. Thor had returned. The fire was extinguished. The final battle would come, but not today. When it did, Karura now understood that, whatever the outcome, he would be ready.

The sun blazed once more and the steam rose from the tarmacadam like some primordial figment. Heimdallr lowered the great horn of the river and a blue motorcycle sprinted over the spirit of Bifröst and onwards towards Castres, where the King of the Mountains elect lay dreaming of polka dots, waiting for the cool warmth of moonbeams and sleep.