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Post by FOTH on Feb 6, 2014 16:22:57 GMT -6
Leave it to Einar to reach out and grab breakfast. Will is one very perceptive little guy. Children do absorb more than we adults are aware of. Movements, attitudes, emotions.. it certainly adds to the whole Einar family scenario. Of course Will will be like his Daddy. He has not had any interaction in "civilization" and I use the term losely. Thanks for the new addition. I love this story. Your talent is amazing. Limited contact with "civilization" will probably simplify things somewhat, for Will. Civilization can be an awful hassle! Young children understand MUCH more that most people realize, simply because the adults do not really pay attention, and the young child can not yet articulate their understanding. They ARE however, always learning, processing the information, and understanding it. I think it's a shame that adults forget what it was like to be a child. If more of them could remember, they would surely speak to children differently. I remember--and remember how frustrating it was when adults would simply assume I was incapable of understanding a concept, when I already understood it well and wanted to discuss it with them... Thank you all for reading!  |
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Post by FOTH on Feb 6, 2014 16:23:40 GMT -6
So well had Einar and Liz insulated the little shelter that its walls had prevented Einar from realizing just what the weather had done in the night, hints and whispers of frigid air finding their way through small cracks here and there by way of clues, but the full force of the thing hitting him only when he pushed aside the improvised door and rolled out into the snow.
Quickly pushing the door shut behind him and taking in a cautious breath of air which froze the hairs in his nose and caught in his throat, he scrambled to his feet and stood inspecting the surrounding country, everything standing out in sharp relief and the snow squeaking like Styrofoam beneath his feet. Took another breath, this one slower, more measured, and he managed to avoid choking and coughing on it. Above him stretched the huge, arcing vault of the sky, looking somehow different that morning in a way he had only seen it a few times before, edges purple behind the pines and the cloud of his breath rising wide and white into the vast pale white-blue overhead, leaving ice on his eyelashes as it passed. Einar shivered, hurried off into the trees to do his business so he could return to the shelter before he started losing the feeling in his toes.
Cold morning, colder, perhaps, than almost any they had seen that past winter, or at least so it seemed to him, and he could tell that it would take only minutes of standing still in its iron grasp, lightly clad and raw-boned as he was, before the unshakable grasp of inertia would begin to set in. An interesting experiment, perhaps, and one on which he might have been greatly tempted to embark, had he been alone—stand there unmoving until he felt its hand heavy upon him, see how far he could go, and still bring himself out of it; does a man good to stretch his limits—but inside his family awaited him and he had no such intention that morning.
Almost found himself unintentionally engaged in the experiment, anyway, long as he had stood there pondering and observing, for when he tried to turn and head back for the shelter his legs would hardly respond, leaving him to stomp and jump somewhat frantically for a few seconds as he strove to beat some life and feeling back into them. A mad scramble for the shelter, then, teeth rattling all the way and his breath seeming to come tightly and with some difficulty, and when finally he rolled laughing and gasping back into the shelter, it was to a look of concern and consternation from Liz as she pressed his white-cold hands between her own.
“What happened to you out there? Have you been lying in the snow or something?”
“No, nothing...just…kinda chilly out there today.”
“I would say so! You need breakfast, and some hot tea. It looks like your blood is hardly circulating, or something, and you’re going to start losing fingers and toes if things keep on like this.”
“Yeah. But kinda…fun to try...see how far I can push it.”
“Oh, you and your goofy ideas of ‘fun!’ You know what I think will be fun? When you’ve gained about fifty pounds and can go out for a few minutes in the morning without nearly freezing to death. Now that will be fun!”
“Aw, ruining it for me…”
“You’ve got that right! And if you don’t want a dent in the side of your head, besides, you’d better get into your parka, get warm and sit here by the candle while I make us some breakfast and tea.”
Einar grinned, sat down heavily beside the candle—lot of good it would do, that single flame against all the huge, hollow expanse of the frigid-cold high altitude sky, but it was all they had—and warmed his hands before reaching for Will.
“Let me watch the little guy for a bit, while you get the breakfast going.”
“You’re not going to drop him because your hands are so cold?”
“Drop him? Of course not! And even if I did, he’s big enough to stand on his own…hands and knees, now. He’d do just fine. He’ll be running around here catching ermine with his bare hands, before you know it.”
“Yes, he probably will. Just like his father… Who is now going to have some breakfast! I’m sorry it’s not going to be hot, but at least it’ll give you some energy. You’re going to need it today, as cold as things seem to be starting out. I’m kind of concerned with the way the weather seems to be going, especially since we’re not really able to have heat in here…
“Yeah, me too. I’m mainly concerned about that plane. If it comes back and does happen to be looking for us, or even for wildlife and using any kind of heat sensor…well, any amount of heat we’re putting out is going to show up pretty clearly against the great icy whiteness outside, even if we don’t have a fire. Big contrast, with the temperature being so low. Lot bigger than usual.”
As if in answer to Einar’s concerns—perhaps, he told himself, I shouldn’t have spoken them, but he knew it was irrelevant—a sudden hum grew swiftly and steadily louder, plane cresting the ridge and dropping down the side of the mountain almost before they were aware they were hearing it, dropping down into the canyon and droning away between its walls until no longer audible. Einar glanced over at Liz, her face strained and white in the candlelight.
“Well. Just have to hope they’re not looking, won’t we?”
“Yes. But how will we know?”
Strange, he thought, for her to be asking that. It was usually his place to do so, he who was by this time contemplating the mad dash up the mountainside, the abandonment of all material possessions and hope of good, solid shelter in deference to the protection of a liberty which might or might not actually be in clear and present danger… “That is the dilemma, for sure.”
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Post by 2medicine woman on Feb 6, 2014 18:25:52 GMT -6
I have experienced that burning cold you so aptly described. It actually burns to inhale and then you cough like crazy. There is no moisture and everything is brutally crystal sharp in form and color. Brrrr!
Thank you for another post. This tale brings emotions to the surface. All my Motherly and Healer facets are in high gear. I can see their small shelter, their furs, their food.. it happens for me. It is who and what I am. It is neither good nor bad. It just is.
Be well. Be safe.
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Post by FOTH on Feb 9, 2014 16:37:22 GMT -6
I have experienced that burning cold you so aptly described. It actually burns to inhale and then you cough like crazy. There is no moisture and everything is brutally crystal sharp in form and color. Brrrr! Thank you for another post. This tale brings emotions to the surface. All my Motherly and Healer facets are in high gear. I can see their small shelter, their furs, their food.. it happens for me. It is who and what I am. It is neither good nor bad. It just is. Be well. Be safe. Thank you, twomedicinewoman. Glad you are able to see the story in this way. _____________________ Huddled close together in their parkas Einar ad Liz ate a cold breakfast, even the candle being too great a risk, Einar had decided, if planes were going to be buzzing so low overhead and without warning. Silent, listening, Einar glowered at the dimly-lit outline of the improvised door through its covering of white parachute, an anger growing within him at the repeated intrusion of the plane, the uncertainty it brought to their lives in this new place, and when nearly an hour later it came back again, this time rising up out of the canyon and making an arc over their mountainside before departing, he was ready. Not willing to risk being seen but determined to get a good look at the as-yet unseen adversary, Einar dived at the door when first he heard the droning whine of that plane climbing up out of the canyon, pressing himself down under it and wriggling head and shoulders out into the snow, under the its surface where he would be concealed. There he lay, snow over and on him but with a reasonably clear line of sight up through the fractured chunks of boot-packed whiteness, through the gently swaying tops of the spruces and up into a narrow strip of grey sky through which he greatly hoped the small aircraft might make its way. Einar’s efforts were soon rewarded with a glimpse of yellow right on the edge of vision, small moving object soon materializing, taking on the unmistakable shape of a Piper Cub, filling the space into which he could see and leaving him shaken and a little surprised, both for what he did see, and what he did not. Waiting, unconsciously holding his breath until the plane had passed, he wriggled quickly back into the shelter, blinking and brushing snow from his eyes. Not that there was much to see inside. Not in that darkness, without the candle. But this could now be remedied, and searching, seeking, he found the small object, brought it to flame and waited until its flickering light filled the place, adding a nearly infinite degree of cheer, if not immediately changing the frigid temperature of the place. Liz looked at him with some measure of surprise, silently glancing at the candle and then apprehensively up at the ceiling, as if expecting the aircraft to double back at any time, and spot the heat from that tiny flame. Einar smiled. “It’s ok. Got a good look, and they’re not carrying an infrared pod. Not equipped to sense heat. So looks like we’re in the clear, as far as that goes. Wouldn’t want to risk the smoke of a fire, at least not by daylight, but the candle is fine, and we just might get to have a fire tonight, if nothing else shows up in the sky.” “Whew! I sure am glad of that! We need a fire, when it’s this cold. And if they don’t have infrared, then they’re probably not up there looking for us, are they? I mean, that’s not their purpose in being here…” “No.” “But that’s not all, is it? What’s the rest of it? What did you see?” Einar was quiet for a minute, looked troubled. “Plane’s equipped with skis.” “Skis?” He nodded. “Means it can land almost anywhere up here where terrain and conditions are right. Means it must intend to, actually. Don’t need skis to get in and out of any airport around here, not even the small ones. So either these folk have some sort of private airstrip up high where no one maintains it, or…well, they may have intentions to be coming and going from one of the big meadows on either side of the canyon. That’s what I suspect they’ve been doing yesterday and today.” Liz’s eyes were large in the candlelight. “Why?” He shrugged. “Wildlife officials, maybe? Shouldn’t be any hunting season right now, except maybe small game, goose and…cat. So not likely to be hunters. Who knows? But I do know we’ve got to be awfully careful what we do, and where we do it, until we haven’t heard from them for a week or two. And even then, what’s to say they didn’t drop people off over there? Might be setting up a camp over there, going out for a day or two at a time to do whatever it is they’re up here doing. We’re gonna have to lie awfully low for a while.” “At least we’re here in the middle of all this tangled deadfall and brush, where nobody is likely to come, even if they are hunters or wildlife people. Don’t you think?” “Hope so. Hard to say, not knowing exactly why they’re up here. I’m thinking we really do need to know.” “But how can we?” “I can go scope things out.” “Go where? We don’t even know where they are, or if they are!” “Oh, I’ve got a pretty good idea of where they’ve been taking off and landing from, now that I’m pretty sure that’s what they’ve been about. It all fits together now, makes a pattern. You know the cave we spent a night in, before we found the moose and then came here?” “Of course.” “Well, near as I can estimate, that plane has been landing and taking off from a spot somewhere above the canyon rim, not too far from that cave. I mean, within a mile or two. Can’t be any more exact than that, not from here. Which is why I need to go have a look.” “That has often not gone well. What if you run into them out there? Or leave tracks for them to follow, back to us?” “Hey, don’t be doubting my ability to be stealthy. I may not be what I once was, in all ways, but I’m still alive, here, and some instincts an experiences are with a person until they quit breathing. They’d never see me. And I have a plan for tracks, too. To avoid making tracks that could lead them back here. All has to do with the time of day when I travel..” “How about giving it a few days before you travel, at all? Wait and see if the plane comes back. Maybe they’re done here, doing whatever it is they came to do. Maybe they were just counting elk. Or looking for a moose with a radio collar. It would be a shame to waste all that energy hiking over there—and maybe risk leaving sign in the process—if they really were gone. Will you give it two days?” He looked skeptical. Several reasons why he did not want to give it two days, not least amongst them the possibility that someone had been dropped off by that plane and was even then snowshoeing towards their location, closing the distance, reporting back to some person or agency with resources to launch once again a full-scale search, should sufficient cause be detected… Yet, Liz did have a point. “I’ll think about it. We can think about it.” |
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Post by 2medicine woman on Feb 10, 2014 16:23:51 GMT -6
It seems as if Einar is listening better now when Liz talks to him. Time will tell if and/or when that ceases. I went out to have a smoke the other day. The wind was blowing like it always does on the prairie and it was COLD. I lit my smoke and just stood there, face to the n.w. wind. I (No way to really describe this but) began to shut off my physical responses to the world around me. I rarely do that other than circles. I just stood there for probably 15-20 minutes. Slowly brought myself back to me and thought "this is gonna hurt." It did. The cold and wind had scoured my face and neck. Feeling returned and yes, it stung. I wonder if this is something Einar practices to some degree or another? Does he disassociate from the pain or does he ride on top of it to another level of being? I am quite enthralled by this "trial" he does to himself. Forgive me if I pester too much. Thanks for another great post.  |
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Post by gipsysmith on Feb 12, 2014 11:21:52 GMT -6
Still around and still wondering when he will get back to normal so they can really get on with life.
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Post by FOTH on Feb 12, 2014 16:58:37 GMT -6
It seems as if Einar is listening better now when Liz talks to him. Time will tell if and/or when that ceases. I went out to have a smoke the other day. The wind was blowing like it always does on the prairie and it was COLD. I lit my smoke and just stood there, face to the n.w. wind. I (No way to really describe this but) began to shut off my physical responses to the world around me. I rarely do that other than circles. I just stood there for probably 15-20 minutes. Slowly brought myself back to me and thought "this is gonna hurt." It did. The cold and wind had scoured my face and neck. Feeling returned and yes, it stung. I wonder if this is something Einar practices to some degree or another? Does he disassociate from the pain or does he ride on top of it to another level of being? I am quite enthralled by this "trial" he does to himself. Forgive me if I pester too much. Thanks for another great post. There are times when Einar deliberately “sets aside” whatever discomfort he might be experiencing, so he can focus on finishing a task, and I think this may be something similar to what you are describing. It’s a good skill to have in this life, and definitely improves with practice. Everyone ought to work on this! When Einar is deliberately seeking to test himself with one of these trials/ordeals, however, it is a different matter. He cannot set the pain aside, because that would defeat part of the purpose. Must try and let himself fully experience everything, and endure. There are times when he ends up somewhat distant towards the end, despite his trying not to allow that to happen. I think that’s something the mind does to protect itself when it’s had enough. He just takes that as a signal that he must work harder at remaining present the next time. And no, you don't pester. I find it interesting to hear about this experience of yours, and to talk about this subject. It is not one that many people seem willing to explore. Thanks. Still around and still wondering when he will get back to normal so they can really get on with life. Normal? What is that? Well, he's working on it. Making an effort to head in that direction. And in the meantime, life does go on. Thanks for reading! ______________________ The plane did not return that day, and when evening approached and the sun took its early leave of the basin, sinking behind the ridge-trees and carrying with it the slight warming its rays had brought to the frigid day, Liz began arranging wood for a fire. Einar, who had kept just busy enough through the day to prevent himself losing ground to the inertia which always stalked him so closely those days, now sat all hollow-eyed and staring with exhaustion, knees pressed to his chest and sleep, despite his best efforts, not far off. Liz’s intentions plain, Einar was soon quite wide awake and on his feet, going to her, crouching stiffly beside the small firepit and helping her break up sticks for kindling. Already she had the candle lit, Einar’s breath making great clouds in its dim, flickering light as he worked to steady his respirations and be ready for speech. Liz beat him to it. “Since the plane hasn’t been back, and you said it didn’t have infrared…I was hoping it might be ok for us to have a fire” Einar shivered, tucked numbed hands beneath his arms before he could do any more damage to Liz’s kindling pyramid, which he had nearly managed to knock to pieces in his attempts to help. “Think we’re pretty safe in that regard. Won’t be any light even if the plane does come back over, and it’s not equipped to see the heat this shelter will leak. My concern would be the smoke, though. If that plane dropped folks off on the canyon rim where we’re thinking it landed…well, they could smell our smoke. And get curious. Wish I knew if anyone really was over there. Half tempted to start out tonight and see what I can see.” “Well I’m glad you’re only half tempted! It’s going to be an awfully cold night, and with all that downed timber to cross before you can really get anywhere, it would be pretty slow going. Too slow to really keep a person very warm at all, don’t you think?” “Don’t know about ‘a person,’ but I’m never warm anyway, so it wouldn’t much matter. I’m used to it. We really need to know.” “We’re pretty secure here though, aren’t we? Think what it would take for someone to make their way through all that deadfall and get anywhere close to us. Think what it took for us to do it! Two days of what I remember as very, very difficult travel…” “Got a point there. I don’t guess anyone’s likely to casually wander through all that just because they got a whiff of smoke and are curious about its origin. Only trouble would be if they’re up here looking for us, and saw that as a clue.” “I know the smell of smoke can travel a very long way. But isn’t the wind tending to travel up the slope in the nights, lately? That’s sure what it feels like when I’m out in the evening and on the ridge where I can feel the wind. I think it would take any smoke smell right up and away from the canyon rim, and we’d be ok.” “Yeah, that does seem to be a pretty regular pattern lately. Ok. We can have a fire tonight. You’ve got me convinced.” “And you don’t have to go scour the canyon rim?” “Not tonight.” She smiled, struck sparks and blew the nest of dry, shredded aspen inner bark to life, adding a few spruce cones to lend the newly kindled flames some liveliness until they could climb up and catch in the larger sticks. “We’re running low on the moose that we brought, but there’s enough for one more big batch of stew, so that’s what I plan to make us tonight. Ought to last several days.” “I’ll work on the trapline tomorrow, try to set some more snares in places where I’ve seen rabbit sign, and see if we can’t add to the meat supply, here. Not gonna be many critters out in this cold, but it’s bound to break, sooner or later. And then everything will be hungry, and will be out. Might be a little tight up here until things start melting, if we don’t go back for the moose, but we’ll make it. Sure would like to have that moose up here, though. Or at least a couple hundred pounds of it.” “How about you just keep eating, getting stronger, and then in a while we’ll make pack frames and go get a bunch of it? We can live off of the trapline in the meantime, with all that moose meat to look forward to.” “Sounds like you’ve got a plan, for sure. I like that plan. Like the smell of that stew, too. That stuff sure is coming along.” “Well, I’m trying to make best use of the fire, because I’m guessing we can’t have one during daylight hours right now.” “Nope. Not until we settle the matter of what that plane’s been doing, and who it’s been leaving behind.” True to his word Einar was up early the next morning, parka drawn tight against the searing cold which continued unabated beneath star-spiked skies and moving quickly as he climbed up out of the tiny basin and to the low ridge above, knowing he must get the blood moving well enough to allow himself some dexterity when he reached the place where he hoped to set his rabbit snares. Few tracks marred the layer of wind-blown snow that covered everything there atop the ridge, but once he dropped down its far side into the semi-protected and heavily timbered draw beyond, his efforts were rewarded with the sight of several major-looking trails, complete with droppings and a good bit of sign on some of the lower-growing vegetation, where twigs had been nibbled back to their live, white interiors. Hopeful signs, and here he set up four snares, choosing spots along what appeared to be a well-established rabbit path beneath the low-sweeping, sheltering branches of a grove of little firs, and helping increase the likelihood of the rabbits’ ending up in the stew pot by placing sticks to prevent their easily loping off the trail and around his traps. Satisfied, he rose, brushed the snow from knees and elbows and swung his arms to generate some heat so Liz would be less likely to ask him why he appeared to have been lying in the snow, instead of setting traps… And headed home. |
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Post by 2medicine woman on Feb 12, 2014 19:10:13 GMT -6
I'm so glad to see they got a fire going. Humans take so much for granted. Most of us (in the U.S.) have not suffered the never-ending bitter cold. warm shelter, warm food.. it's all good. What do they do with Will when it is cold like that? He is at that age of movement now. Must be hard to keep him in one spot too long. I do so enjoy these tales. You do great character development. For me, I get attached to them. Thank you for sharing your talents and your time with us.  |
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Post by FOTH on Feb 14, 2014 17:48:23 GMT -6
No chapter today, but I will have one ready for tomorrow. Thank you all for reading. |
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Post by FOTH on Feb 15, 2014 17:43:13 GMT -6
I'm so glad to see they got a fire going. Humans take so much for granted. Most of us (in the U.S.) have not suffered the never-ending bitter cold. warm shelter, warm food.. it's all good. What do they do with Will when it is cold like that? He is at that age of movement now. Must be hard to keep him in one spot too long. I do so enjoy these tales. You do great character development. For me, I get attached to them. Thank you for sharing your talents and your time with us. Thanks for reading. I think it's definitely a greater challenge for them now with Will since he's started crawling and moving so much. They have good warm clothes for him, though, so he spends a good bit of time clambering around in the shelter when he's not eating or napping on Liz's back. ____________________________________________ Another long, cold day awaited the little family in the shelter, Liz wishing for spring, for a softening of the snow, for the almost-inaudible seeping sounds that come as the ground began accepting a winter’s worth of moisture, waking, living, giving birth to green. Einar harbored no such thoughts as he sat silently in the light of their single candle—second candle, as they’d burned up the first—mending a tear in the sleeve of his parka and waiting for daylight to strengthen sufficiently that the little shelter could be lighted without flame, by the sliding aside of the lashed aspen-log door. While the parachute material which would then cover the opening would only do so much to keep out the cold, he knew that the light thus provided the interior of their dark den would be more than worth the exchange. On his mind as he took one neat stitch after another—making a knot after each for added strength, sewing the elk skin much as he would have sutured a wound, and with an exacting precision which all but guaranteed the repair lasting as long as the garment, itself—was the puzzle of the plane, its comings and goings and the men who might have ventured forth on the snow from the spot where last it had landed. Even as he sat there, hidden and by all appearances safe under the timber, he could in his mind see them drawing nearer, making slow but steady progress on snowshoes or skis as they studied the canyon rim, scoured it for human sign and made their way towards the vast upward-sweeping evergreen slope which, they would surely conclude, would more likely shelter the fugitive family they sought. Einar rose, smoothed out the parka and held its sleeve near the candle to inspect his work, shaking his head. Not likely. Not likely at all that any men dropped off by that plane, should they exist at all, had anything to do with his family or their hiding place in the tiny basin. No reason anyone should suspect them to be in the area. Was there? Could surely convince himself either way, if he tried. Could propose the possibility that Keisl the pilot had talked, had somehow, either inadvertently or intentionally under some unknown pressure revealed his part in their escape, which would have given searchers a starting point, if not one terribly near their present location… Then there was the possibility that someone—the men on that snowmobile who had been patrolling the far rim of the canyon, for instance—had stumbled upon the tree-cached remains of their elk kill and had taken the giant leap of imagination and logic which would have been required to connect them to the poached animal. Unlikely, but sometimes the only safety is in considering the unlikely, taking it to its reasonable if somewhat far-fetched conclusion and seeing where that leaves a person… Left him uncertain, anxious, and he didn’t like it, sat motionless for several minutes, thinking, planning, working it all out in his mind until he thought he had something that might work, might let him find out what they were up to. Needed to know. Needed to finish mending the parka, too, for without it, and without the fire which they’d let die out before dawn as a precaution, the place was chilly enough to render him all but immobile after a stretch of relative stillness. This fact had escaped his notice while he’d been busy with the project and engaged in pondering the purpose of that plane, but now made itself manifest in a rather aggravating inability to grasp the needle with which he had been doing his repair. Oh, well. Could wait a little while. What he needed was some movement to get the blood flowing, an a trip outside to have a look at the day, now that it had brightened some, would be just the thing. Liz, to his surprise, set aside the breakfast fixings over which she had been working, bundled Will into her parka hood, and went with him. “Did you see much activity out there where you were setting the snares? Many rabbits or anything around?” “They had been. Not too many this morning yet, in the cold. But they had been, so will be again. The snares should produce. I’m thinking of a plan, though.” Her eyes looked a bit large, he thought, a bit white around the edges. “What sort of plan? A rabbit-snaring plan?” She had known he meant something more. “Scouting and moose retrieval plan, actually.” “You want to check on the place where that plane was landing, and go after some of the moose?” “Yes, and I think I’ve worked out a good way to do it. See, I don’t really want to have to work my way down through all that fallen timber, and then still have the canyon itself to traverse…all before climbing the wall and going to look for the place where the plane landed.” “That really would be quite the endeavor, especially with your leg still…” “Leg’s fine. Just that I don’t want to take all that time. So here’s my idea. Want to climb up above this place and work my way over to the rim. We’re way back on a slope that rises above the head of the canyon, best as I can figure from the map and from what I saw as we were making the climb up to this place, so by climbing a little and then traversing over towards the rim, I eventually ought to be able to reach it, you see? Then scout out their landing strip, see what’s going on and—unless it’s something that demands immediate attention—make a side trip down into the canyon for sixty or seventy pounds of moose from our stash, before heading up again.” Liz was quite, couldn’t help but thinking that what Einar so casually described as a “side trip” would actually prove to be a two or three day ordeal involving at least two thousand feet of elevation loss and the same in gain, all over some very rough country and while carrying on his back—for the uphill, near-vertical portion of it, at least—a proposed quantity of moose meat which almost certainly would exceed his current body weight. It all sounded to her like a rather fine—and final—way to do one’s self in, and the kind of thing Einar was bound to relish. Just to prove to himself that he could do it. Only this time, he did have rather practical stated reasons for wishing to embark on the challenge, too. “Don’t you worry about leaving sign while you’re scouting on the rim, and possibly leading them back to us? If anyone is out there, I mean…” “Plan to keep to the timber, and only travel at night and in the morning when there’s kind of a crust on the snow and it’ll support me without leaving too many tracks. Avoid moving too much in the afternoons when things start softening up and I might break through the crust. If things ever do soften up. Won’t do it, in this cold.” “What crust? There’s no crust up here. It’s all powder!” “There’ll be crust over there on the rim. Gets a lot more hours of sunlight than we do, and late in the winter as it is, there will have been some warmer days down there, for sure. I’ll move along the edge of the timber so I can duck into it if I see anything, but a out where there’s crust most of the time while I’m moving. It’s the only way I know for us to really be sure, and besides, we could use the meat. Gonna take a lot of rabbits to see us through until spring really gets here…” “Will you give it a couple of days, at least? Wait for this really cold spell to pass, eat some more stew and think about it?” He shrugged, crossed his arms, which were beginning to stiffen up pretty badly in the absence of his parka, and shifted uneasily from one foot to the other. Didn’t want to lose momentum, now that he’d come up with something that made sense. Wanted to go and get it done, before anything could get in the way. Like the weather. Or his family. Or good sense. “Yeah, I’ll give it a couple days. Got to watch that trapline for a couple days anyway, see how it’s going to do.” |
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Post by 2medicine woman on Feb 16, 2014 18:51:06 GMT -6
yawa wašte means: "a good read" (and a few other things depending on the use of the words)  pilamayaye means" "thank you" |
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Post by felicia on Feb 17, 2014 7:17:33 GMT -6
Thanks for all of the new chapters.
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