How Osain Saved the Ill-Prepared Man

An ill-prepared man made preparations for a long journey.

He had no horse, so he decided he would walk. It was only a single day's journey, he reasoned. He had no backpack in which to carry food, so he ate before he left, and believed that to be enough. It was only a single day's journey, after all. He had neither a map nor a compass, but the land to which he traveled was in the north, and he reasoned that he would follow the sun to its highest point, and keep walking straight ahead. It was only a single day's journey, after all, and how lost could any man get in a single day?

Ill prepared, the ill-prepared man set out on foot, with no supplies, no compass, and no map. It was a recipe for disaster.

After many hours of walking, he was lost. Worse, he was hungry. Even worse, he was thirsty. The hot midday sun bore down on him like an angry beast; he was tired, dizzy, and burning with fever. He knew he was in trouble.

Nightfall came: the ill-prepared man was nowhere near his destination, and he sank to his knees in despair. As the darkness deepened around him, he saw a dancing light ahead. It was a fire. Exhausted, he walked toward it, sometimes stumbling, sometimes falling, and sometimes crawling.

He thought it was his salvation! A small group of men sat around that fire, and beside them was a pool of water. With the last of his strength, he crawled to that pool and drank greedily. The men laughed. “That's it; drink that water, man!” one of them said. They all laughed heartily.

For the men were a group of bandits, and had neither the morals nor the desire to let the ill-prepared man know that the pool was stagnant and poisoned.

He fell into a deep sleep. The bandits robbed him of all he had; and when the ill-prepared man woke later that night, he was naked and sick. Nausea overwhelmed him; fever burned him; and delirium threatened his sanity.

The ill-prepared man realized just how ill prepared he was and resigned himself to death. “Please, let me die quickly,” he prayed.

Instead, he dreamed.

In his dream, a deformed man walked up to him, as he lay prone and helpless on the earth. He limped on one twisted leg. The deformed man stood beside the ill-prepared man, looking down in pity, and then knelt on his good leg, his twisted leg jutting out in front. Carefully, he pushed a withered hand behind his head, and lifted it gently; with his good hand, he put something damp to his lips, and tipped it up. A shockingly sour liquid filled his mouth, but he was so thirsty and hot, and it was so wet and cold, that he swallowed greedily.

The heat in his veins subsided; his stomach settled; and finally, he fell into a comfortable space between sleep and consciousness where he felt no pain. While he rested, the deformed man bathed him with the same liquid, and wiped his feverish skin with the leaves of the forest.

Morning found the deformed man sitting beside the ill-prepared man; he woke, and thought he was still delirious. “Good morning,” he said to the waking man as he wiped sleep from his eyes. It was almost a whisper, and the leaves in the trees rustled as he spoke. “You feel well?”

One large eye, one small eye; one good arm, one deformed arm; one good leg, one twisted leg: The man gasped in surprise. It was Osain.

“I feel well,” he said, sitting up. “It wasn't a dream. You took care of me?”

“I saved you. I saved you with my herbs.” Osain's voice was not coming from his thin lips; it came from the forest itself. “Next time you make a journey, use this.” He held out a bag sewn from animal skins. “If you carry nothing else, take this, and carry fresh water. Death was close last night.”

A branch fell from a tree; it startled the ill-prepared man, and he looked toward the sound. When he turned his head back, Osain was gone; however, the bag made from animal skins remained. It was filled with sweet water, and he drank greedily.

This is how the canteen was born; and the ill-prepared man was never ill prepared again.