Blinking, I saw we'd moved off the trail, far enough from it that I could no longer see it no matter which direction I turned. We were in the middle of the bamboo thicket, nothing but us and the quiet crooning of insects.
“Which way is north?” Instructor Garcien asked, taking the fabric from my hands.
There was no moss anywhere in sight. Additionally, she'd chosen a particularly dense area of forest where the canopy of leaves blocked out most of the sunlight. Her lesson from earlier in the day hadn't given us anything else that could help us navigate. I moved toward an area where there was some dappled sunlight, to use the shadow tracking technique she'd demonstrated.
“Do not move from your spot,” she said. I halted.
Befuddled, I looked back at her. “Then...how am I supposed to determine which way is north?”
Instructor Garcien gave me a patient smile. “One of the most valuable skills you'll learn in Voyager training is how to reason out the solutions to problems for yourself, without us guiding you to them.”
“Then wouldn't I be able to reason out that the solution is to move into an area where there is enough sunlight to measure shadow lengths?”
“That might work if you're in an area that has sunlight. But there may be times when there is no sunlight for you to use to gauge direction, such as nighttime, being underground, or in rugged weather conditions.”
She was right, there were a lot of reasons why there might not be any sunlight to measure. I tried again. “Well I could wait out the weather, or for sunrise until there was light to use.”
She shook her head, still giving me the same patient smile. “And what happens if you are in a position where you are severely injured and unable to move, without enough time to wait for the sun to return?”
My brow furrowed. She made another good point, time-sensitive injuries were a serious reality for Voyagers. Many lost limbs to miasma exposure.
What else could I use, besides the shadows and moss, that would give me a hint as to the sun's direction? Or direction in general?
Sandy dirt laid beneath us, and my search for any lichen or liverworts that might only grow presenting in one direction was fruitless. There was nothing but bamboo sprouts, fuzzy caterpillars, and scuttling beatles in the area near us. No footprints either, Instructor Garcien must have cleared any trail we’d left.
Turning my face up, I shielded my eyes to see if the sky might give me a hint, but it was too close to midday. If there was any slant to the sun's angle, I couldn't discern it.
And the bamboo looked equally as healthy in all directions, just as verdant and alive.
Staring more closely at the bamboo that surrounded us, something about it was off, asymmetrical. Not the color, the trunk and stalks were equally shaded on all sides. I squinted at it, finally noticing what it was.
The branches were thicker on one side than the other on nearly every stalk.
And if they were growing toward where they received more light...
“There.” I pointed parallel to them in what I hoped was a northward direction.
“How did you determine the direction?”
I pointed at the nearest bamboo stalk. “There are more branches growing on the side with more light.”
Instructor Garcien beamed at me. “You know, you're only the second person today who has correctly been able to ascertain their direction from this exercise with more than sheer luck.” Pride warmed my chest.
Curiosity ruffled, I asked, “Who was the first?”
She shook her head. “Teaching trainees how to identify which skills your future crew mates can offer is another important lesson.”
I wanted to ask why they would teach that, when we were all learning to be self-sufficient and survive on our own in case of an emergency. But I paused and considered it, and the reason smacked me in the face.
“To determine who is qualified to captain an Arc,” I answered my own unspoken question. Another one immediately replaced it. “But if only two of us have successfully been able to determine where north is, what is this lesson about for the other trainees?”
Her smile widened. “I felt it in the Tide that there was something special about you. There are many lessons that someone can learn from this exercise. How to quiet your ego enough to ask for help from others.” She gave me a rueful glance. “Not enough trainees this year have learned that one quite yet. How to use other clues and senses to make educated guesses on your direction, even if you are wrong. The most frequent lesson we've taught today is how to fail with dignity.”
“Why would we want to teach Voyagers how to fail? Shouldn't we be teaching them how to succeed?”
“Failure is part of the Tide, something everyone experiences eventually. Accepting and learning from each failure helps us improve ourselves and any future attempts at those same endeavors. Staying open to opportunities wearing disguises like failure keeps us growing, even when you’re my age.”
I pocketed the thought for later consideration because Instructor Garcien kept going.
