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For two days Mika walked with growing excitement. When he awoke each morning he jumped up and said, "Maybe today I shall meet Gumba the Wise." On the second night he could see Gumba's mountain just beyond the trees. But he was so tired he could go no further that evening. "Tomorrow...Tomorrow I shall see Gumba!" He lay down beneath a mighty old oak tree and closed his eyes. Mika heard the rustling of the wind blowing through the leaves like distant voices. As he began to drift off to sleep, the voices seemed to be whispering stories. And in his dreams he saw those stories passing before his mind's eye. They seemed like entire lifetimes glimpsed in mere instants. Story after story drifted by. Then he saw his own story, and he jumped awake. "Am I just a line in an
Endless Story?" he sighed. Then, looking up, he saw Gumba's mountain,
and the questions washed away, filling him once again with anticipation.
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