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 drag trunks, as fragile branches in a gale; a profound need to merge with the whole, with the sea; a marine nostalgia to reach the sea at the end of the path and losing its individuality... to begin again.

Night Eagle could already hear the strong sea calling, large water volumes knocking the tiny arena, which shook defenseless before the violent sea onslaught. The distance shortened between two waters. Lightning falling on the sea horizon, lit the white foam which claimed the arrival of fresh inland waters. Night Eagle hurriedly travelled towards his final destination; increasingly was less conscious of himself as he became more water. He had completely delivered himself; he had surrendered to the liquid energy. The millenary passion of searching for completeness overcame him; he didn't care anymore breaking the weak limits of his inconsequential individuality, before the near promise of wholeness.

Suddenly he heard an inner voice, like a thunder that reverberated in the will of millions of particles that with solidarity shaped him —"Night Eagle... return!" The sea was about three hundred bodies away. Fresh water was already being absorbed by the vast salty waters. Night Eagle broke into a vibrating flash. The drop became millions of droplets and these in turn, in billions of energy sparks, seeking the echo of his teacher’s voice, who was still in the sacred mountain.

Night Eagle opened his eyes and was next to his teacher watching the storm from atop, which was headed to the west. His body was very cold and soaked. The night had completely overtaken the mountain and valleys.

—Do not do that again, —said the Teacher, in a very serious tone— it is very dangerous. Human beings are very fragile, are very vulnerable to passions. Today my energy returned you, but perhaps tomorrow it won’t. The Total freedom warrior must protect his energy no matter what. The warrior is just a spectator in the world, this