Coming Home

[icefire]

AAarrrghhhh...the proverbial cliffhanger! I swear you're doing that just to torture us! Can't wait to find out the reason...

[FOTH]

Aug 14, 2013 18:48:48 GMT -6 icefire said:

AAarrrghhhh...the proverbial cliffhanger! I swear you're doing that just to torture us! Can't wait to find out the reason...

The reason why Liz was delayed......or the reason I include the occasional cliffhanger? ;D



Thanks for reading!

_______________

From the ridge-crest itself, nothing was visible. So choked with brush was the spot where Liz had finally emerged that Einar himself was not entirely certain he was on the true crest, until he’d fought his way through the gnarly, clawing arms of some fifteen yards’ worth of oak brush, and started down the other side. No wonder she had not been able to make her observations from this point, and head back down. Naturally she would have continued on up the ridge until things opened up and she was able to get a better look, which is exactly what her tracks told him she had done. Still, Einar could not help feeling an instant’s dismay at the discovery, a momentary crossness at the prospect of more climbing as he stood resting the slightly bent knee of his bad leg on the snow, shaking with exhaustion and wishing, despite himself, that Liz might show up before he had a chance to get moving again.

Liz did not come, and soon Einar was, indeed, moving, climbing, seeing no sense in heading down at that point, near as he must be to the spot from which Liz had finally got a view of things. Figured he might as well have a look, too, and—perhaps more pressing reason, but one which he found himself a good deal less anxious to acknowledge—should he return to the waiting-spot and she prove further delayed, he knew he didn’t have another climb in him. Not that day. Would be pretty hard pressed just to make it down to camp before dark, the way things were currently going. So, he trudged on, following Liz’s trail but still not able to take long enough steps to fully utilize her tracks, themselves, making some of his own and discovering along the way that though done for the time with the menace presented by the fallen timber of the slope, buried oak brush can itself present quite the series of catching, snagging obstacles for a one-legged man…

After a time, doing his best to make speed through the deep snow and brush, Einar ceased particularly caring about or really even noticing the difficulty of the climb, mind wandering quite without his prompting over a varied and turbulent landscape of dark mine tunnel, paved highway with loudly-passing traffic, and silent, eerie airstrip where he expected every moment to hear the screech of tires and the staccato burst of semi-auto gunfire.

And then, after a time trapped in these worlds, contending with invisible foes in the damp darkness of tunnels the likes of which he knew one could never expect to find in the hard-rock mining country of the high Rockies, making a rolling leap at highway speeds from the back of Roger Keisl’s borrowed pickup truck with Liz and baby in tow and fighting with all his might to avoid being dragged onto a plane he was falling, free air all around him and the ground coming quickly beneath his feet. This time, unlike the last, he really was trying to pull his cord at a sensible altitude, but something was wrong, chute gone, no reserve, nothing, couldn’t see Liz but knew she was already drifting safely somewhere above him, and with nothing left to do he tucked arms in close to body, ducked his head and prepared for impact, watching as the trees took on definition, every detail of bark and cone clear to his vision and more beautiful than he had ever remembered seeing them, sweet scent of snow-laced evergreen needles rising to meet him, and somehow managing to avoid striking and becoming impaled upon one of those myriad tree-lances that lay beneath, he hit the ground grinning, not bad, not bad at all…

Thus it was that Liz found him on her descent, lying face down in the snow not far below the spot where she had finally won her way to a clear and distant view, still as a stone and without obvious sign of life or breath. When she got him turned over he was still grinning, sight made somewhat horrible by the shade of purple to which his face had been darkened by its contact with the snow, but in response to her efforts he opened his eyes, took a big, gasping breath and sat up.

“Kind of a…rough impact but…” Moved arms, legs, shrugged his shoulders and stiffly turned his head, apparently satisfied with his physical condition, if a bit surprised to find everything still more or less in working order.

“How’d it…how’d it go…landing?”

“Landing?” She looked up, half expecting to find a tall aspen out of which he might have fallen after climbing up in the hopes of a view, but there was nothing save a cluster of barely-six-foot-high oak brush. “I haven’t been doing any landing today. How about you?”

Einar blinked slowly as he searched for an answer, really beginning to feel the cold as he stared at the surrounding brush, at Liz with the map case in her hands, Will asleep on her back, and he thought better of saying anything more. Liz saw the change in his eyes, the growing awareness, let it go. Gave him a drink of water, a piece of dried fruit which she’d brought along and did her best to warm the snow-chilled portions of his face with a gloveless hand, hoping he hadn’t been lying there too long.

“Sorry I took so long up here. The brush is very thick, and I couldn’t see anything. It’s better up there a little higher, big open area, and I think I know where we are now. Let’s get back to camp, and I’ll show you. You’re going to like it, I think!”

Einar nodded, struggled to his feet, wanted to know right then, without any delay, but couldn’t find the words to tell her so, and when she started down the slope, he did his best to follow. Will was awake, kept pulling aside the fur ruff on Liz’s hood and craning his neck to look back at Einar, making eye contact, giggling and quickly looking away, and it was this game which kept Einar going, prevented him slipping back entirely into the shadowy world which had claimed him on the latter portion of his climb.

Despite this solid and rather lively tie with reality in the form of little Will, Einar did several times on the descent find himself caught up again in the act of falling, the feel of it, spruces rising beneath his feet as the ground rushed up at him and impact always coming, but for some reason unknown to him he survived it every time, snow soft beneath his body and apparently no further harm done, except that each time it was a bit more difficult to find the energy to pick himself up out of the snow, and to rise. Rise he did, though, and trudge onward, for what else is there to do, when one has not yet reached the destination and darkness is coming?

Has come, for the next time he was jolted to awareness by a sudden impact with the ground—how come I keep getting back in the doggone plane, knowing how this is going to go?—the world had grown almost entirely dark around him, and when at last he managed to struggle to his feet, he found himself navigating almost solely by the sound of Liz’s boots in the snow. How she knew where to go was a puzzlement to him, for sure, but he supposed she must be following their earlier trail in the snow, by feel if not by sight.

Home, such as it was, both of them dreadfully glad to see it, and Liz was lighting a fire. Einar, standing all stiff-kneed as he braced himself against collapse outside the glowing ring of its light, guessed he didn’t mind, though he would have liked to himself see and scrutinize the maps with their present location in mind, first. No seeing the maps without some source of light, though, and wanting to do his part he stared up at the surrounding trees until he managed to locate their stashed gear, freeing the rope and lowering the bag. Liz was keeping the fire small, but appeared to have it going well and steadily, and hauling the bag, he joined her beside it.

[icefire]

Silly FOTH...I meant the reason Liz was delayed. I'm pretty sure you through in the occasional cliffhanger to keep us stewing and wondering just what you'll be coming up with next.

They must be pretty far from any form of civilization, or Liz wouldn't have risked the fire in their current location.

[FOTH]

Icefire, thanks.

_________________

Liz knew he would never sleep without knowing what she had learned of their surroundings, and so, supper heating over the fire, she spread out the map, trying to angle it to better take advantage of the unsteady glow of the flames. Einar was cold, clearly hurting after dragging that injured leg up and down miles of steep, snowy terrain, but he had little interest in doing anything about either of these facts until he’d learned everything Liz had discovered up on the ridge. Since arriving back at camp and regaining some ability to think about something other than the simple but grueling act of keeping himself moving forward, he had come to quite regret his failure to get a look at the lay of the land, himself, but knew Liz could be trusted to give a full accounting.

Something strange, though, for the map she had laid out was not the one which covered the area where he had believed they must be, but that of the entire 2.6 million acre National Forest which had bordered their basin, and whose extensive lands stretched over the better parts of seven counties. He looked at her inquiringly.

“I saw the big river.”

“Big river?”

“The Colorado! I’m pretty sure of it.”

Einar moved to put out the fire, but she stopped him with a firm hand on his arm.

“Wait. Hear the rest.”

“This isn’t good. Means we’re too close to places where people may go. To rafters, canoes, maybe even the railroad tracks or a highway. We’ve got to lie real low, and then as soon as it’s light enough to see, get moving.

“We might want to do that, but listen—Einar! The part I thought you would like is that it looks to me as though we’ve been dropped very near to what appears a rather extensive system of caves and canyons. See this bend in the river? Well, it was hard for me to tell for sure, but I think that’s what I was seeing from the top of that ridge, I really do. Wouldn’t that be good news?”

Einar was silent for a long time as he pondered the map, holding himself rigid against his own trembling and squinting at the little “cave” symbols that clustered plentiful and indeed quite promising around the mouth of a little canyon not three miles from where they were. Where they might be, for determining location by the shape of a single bend in the river—and a river which had not been positively identified, at that—was a risky and questionable business, indeed. Wished he’s been up on the ridge where he might have got a good look, himself, but knew things wouldn’t likely have looked too different to him than they had Liz

“You’re pretty sure about what river you were seeing?”

“I don’t know of another that’s so wide, for sure.”

“Me either, though sometimes appearances can be deceiving when you’re up high looking down on a thing. Might have just been a wide spot in a smaller river, though I figure you know your rivers… Huh. What was Kiesl thinking? Wanted me to settle down here, build a little shack and open up a guiding business? Asmundson’s Scenic Raft Tours, or something like that? Our motto could be, ‘come run the rapids with us, while running from the feds. You may not make it through, but we guarantee you’ll have the time of your life. Atlatl and crossbow provided, bring your own goggles, snorkel and parachute.’”

“That’s a little long for a motto, maybe.”

“Ha! Yeah. Maybe.”

“And just where are we going to get all those crossbows?”

“Make ‘em from the choppers our clients shoot down, that’s where.”

“Oh! Sounds like a business opportunity…” and she was laughing, but Einar, though seeing the humor in it and normally quite well able to laugh in the face of dire circumstances, was not, eyes going all hazy and distant, hardly even hearing Liz’s words. Had stared for too long at that map, immobile and growing colder, never having begun to properly warm after his day in the snow, and now Liz, seeing it, sought to bring him in closer to the flames.

“Night is coming, and I don’t know about you, but I’m certainly going to be ready for some sleep. We’d better get warm and have something to eat, before we get too sleepy. Here. Susan sent us these packets of soup, cream of chicken and broccoli cheese. I’ll make us some with the water I’ve had heating.”

Einar nodded, moved closer to the fire at her prompting. Knew he needed the soup, needed something, after his long climb in the cold, just as Liz would be needing something. There had been since their landing in this new place a great weakness in him, muscles not wanting to cooperate and body seeming always to wish for sleep, and he had for the most part been doing his best to ignore it, assuming its origin must most probably lie in his hard landing and the various bruises and twists he’d thus received. The climb had convinced him it was something more, the feeling, now that he allowed himself to think about it, a familiar one which he remembered from other times when he’d begun eating again after long stretches of going without, and it was a definite sign that he’d better be a bit more careful about the sorts of things he was taking in. Too many starchy ones without enough fat and protein to balance them out, and he might well find himself back in the rather unpleasant and even dangerous situation he’d previously experienced a time or two, in such situations.

Already he could feel a disconcerting lack of coordination which he had come to associate with this sort of trouble, a difficulty filling his lungs with air, and next, he knew, would come the struggle to swallow, as those muscles were affected, as well. Didn’t have time for such nonsense, not now, in this new place and still uncertain just where they might be, and how secure. He knew the solution—temporary one, at least—rummaged about in the bad of supplies packed for them by Kilgore, found a jar of Nutella and retreated to a position against the trunk of a big spruce. There, leaving most of the soup to Liz, he proceeded to dig out and eat nearly a fourth of the jar’s contents, feeling better, grip of the cold and his hunger-induced difficulties easing significantly, and before he knew it, he was asleep…

[FOTH]

Dark and early Einar was awake, daylight still hours away as he lay staring up at the stars as he silently oriented himself, not moving a muscle until he was sure of his position, of the world around him, Liz and Will breathing quietly in sleep, wind soughing almost inaudibly in the treetops and no other sound to disturb the quiet of the night. Thinking back, he could find no memory of creeping over to their fir-branch bed beneath the spruce, wondered exactly how he had come to be there and supposed Liz might be able to provide him with answers. When she woke, which, night still heavy on the land, ought not be for some time. Though his sleep had been brief it had been sound, warmer than any he’d had in some time, despite the cold of the night, and before even trying to move he could sense that some of his earlier weakness seemed abated, if not entirely gone. The Nutella jar remained securely grasped in one hand where it had apparently been all through the night—goofy critter, no better than a squirrel with its stash of acorns, are you?—and, somewhat surprised that he was even able to use his fingers after so many hours of stillness, he retrieved himself a generous helping of the stuff, having to pry with his knife because of its texture in the early morning chill.

Liz stirred in her sleep, half-turned and put a gentle hand on his face, feeling, without entirely waking, down where neck met shoulder, checking to see that he was warm and sinking back into sounder sleep upon apparently finding his temperature satisfactory. Einar waited until her breathing became once again deeper, more regular, before easing his way out of the bed and creeping over beneath a nearby tree to spend some more time with the map. Hadn’t been as aware as he would have liked upon their return to camp that previous evening, effects of the cold and of a long day spent dragging his injured leg up and down near-vertical slopes of snow and timber having taken their toll, and now with a few hours of warm, decent sleep behind him, he needed another look.

Not that the look could be terribly informative, without the ability to independently orient the map and have a look at some landmarks. All he had to go on just then was Liz’s description of what she’d seen, and so, for the sake of argument and not wanting to entirely waste the opportunity to learn more of their (potential) surroundings, he decided to accept not only that the river she had seen was the one she believed it to be, but that she had accurately recognized a particular bend in said river as lying somewhere almost directly below their position. An awful lot of assuming, there, but he had to start somewhere, and without taking off and climbing the ridge, it seemed the best he could do, just then.

So. Bend in the river. Switching on the small headlamp Kilgore had sent them, he studied the map. That would place them in a long, narrow valley which ran parallel to a ridge that looked as though it could be the one they had climbed, river on its far side and another ridge, steep, rocky and cut with numerous gulleys that probably ran with snowmelt in certain seasons, directly opposite their camp, on the other side of the valley. Too dark to see anything of this ridge at the moment, but the image did fit with what he remembered seeing on the descent, and later, as they had left the meadow and headed for shelter in the timber. As he remembered, little was visible from the valley other than those two ridges and a bunch of timber, little more from the spot to which he’d climbed that past evening, the ridge on the opposite valley being several hundred feet higher than the one they’d climbed, and blocking any view of the land beyond. This elevation difference, too, was reflected by the map in the area where Liz had decided they must be. So, plausible, all of it, but nothing more, not until he’d seen for himself.

If Liz was right, there did indeed appear to be a cluster of caves in what must be a band of limestone near the top of the wall of a very steep canyon not far at all from their present position, this canyon splitting off from the one which contained the “big river.” He’d seen such places in the past, had scaled similar walls in search of entry to the caves they concealed, or, failing at this, had rappelled down from above, once having to set up a swinging motion when down near the right elevation, just to get himself over to a place where he could grab hold of a cluster of currant shrubs making a tenuous life for themselves in a crevice in the rock, and pull himself over to the narrow ledge by which he finally gained entrance to the cave. Leaving had been a bit more difficult, would have been a real challenge, indeed, had he not remembered to secure the rope to those little bushes, so it would be waiting for him when he exited… Such a place, if they could locate one, might provide them the shelter they needed to live out the remainder of the cold, snowy weeks in relative safety and even comfort, concealed from the outside world as they worked to become established in this new place.

Thinking about it, Einar was tempted to stash the heavier portions of their gear when daylight came and set out on an expedition to see if they could find this canyon with its limestone band and caves, as—if Liz was correct about their location—it ought only be a few miles distant. The risks in this were many, including the possibility that they might in so exploring run across some trail or other place where people could be, and chance being seen, but he was sure that with the proper level of caution this danger could be minimized, and besides, if such areas existed nearby, better that they come to know of them sooner, and while proactively exploring, rather than later and perhaps under far less favorable circumstances. The other risk—one of them—was, though he did not like to admit it, that he might find himself unable to complete several miles’ reconnaissance, let alone manage to return to their current camp at the end of it to help Liz haul the remainder of their gear. Had barely made it back down that ridge, and realistically, did not know how many miles he had left in him, until the leg had seen a bit of healing.

And what if you do run into somebody over there, some trail, a couple of backcountry skiers, folks on snowshoes, and you have to move quickly to get out of the area? What then? You’re a hazard, that’s what. Hazard to your family, the way you’ll be slowing them down. He rubbed the leg, once again twisting, probing and trying to figure out just what might be the matter, but things were so swollen up after the previous day’s climb that such investigations proved all but useless. Would simply have to give it time.

Time. He’d spent enough of it crouching still against the trunk of the spruce, that was for sure, and he rose, catching himself against the tree before heading out for a short walk around the area of the shelter. No moonlight, but with the sky beginning to go grey, he would be able to get a look at the shape of the horizon, if nothing more, perhaps compare it to the things he’d been seeing on the map, begin to settle the question of whether or not Liz was correct in her estimation.

[FOTH]

I do not have a chapter for tonight, but will be back tomorrow with another.

Thank you all for reading!

[FOTH]

Shivering against a large, overhanging boulder in the dim half-light of early morning Einar studied what he could see of the surrounding horizon, close, heavily timbered and not terribly distinct in the way one might hope for when attempting to orient one’s self in several million acres of ridge, valley and peak, and he breathed slowly, pressing the map to the rock and attempting to still his trembling so he could get a better look.

Really wanted to be up on the ridge from whose crest Liz had seen her river, get a look for himself and hopefully settle the matter, but a great heaviness lay upon him after his climb of the previous day, a weariness on which sleep seemed to have little mitigating effect, and he knew he’d better make it count, this next attempt, if he really intended to do it. It was then that things began appearing a good deal plainer to Einar, plan already half-formed in his mind as he folded the map, stowed it in a pocket and headed back for camp

If, he now realized, he was once more to use up all the energy remaining to him as he had done on the climb, he might as well use it getting somewhere. Already they had lingered far too many days in the area of the drop zone, a practice which he knew from both experience and common sense was surely setting them up for discovery and disaster, and while they might wait around for several days more, seeking to solve the puzzle of exactly where they might be on the map, better by far was to get moving.

Even if Liz was wrong about their current location, and therefore the existence of that cave system, they would be moving, putting some distance between themselves and their last known location, and that could only be a good thing—if approached with caution and care. The possibility still remained that they might be walking right into a worse situation, civilization of some sort, for example, but if they took it slow and stopped frequently to re-assess things, it ought to work out. Ha! Slow is the only way you’re likely to be taking it here for a while Einar, like it or not. This leg hasn’t seemed to take too kindly so far to your attempts at overcoming its trouble through sheer willpower, has it? Thing’s determined to slow you to a crawl. Well. All the more reason to get out of here without too much more delay. Better to find a safe place unknown to anyone at all, where you can all hole up for a while.

He was, in addition to finding himself understandably worn out from climbing through deep snow with a badly wrenched leg, undeniably showing the signs of the insidious sickness which had stalked him previously when he’d come out of long periods of eating next to nothing, body struggling to adjust to the change. The temptation at such times had always been to return in a hurry to past habits—his natural inclination, anyway; starvation had always worked for him—in search of some relief, but he knew he must not do so in this case, knew he must instead work at getting strong for his family, for the life they must lead together out there in the hills.

Which meant sticking with it and struggling through the inevitable difficulties of the following weeks, and he wanted a safe where he could secure and protect his family while doing that. The caves would perhaps be ideal, and if they were there, he meant to find them.

Liz was awake, had fed Will, stowed him warmly in the hood of her parka and had been about to come looking for him. She rose with a smile when he stepped out of the timber, hurried to him and was about to gently chide him for going wandering before she’d had a chance to prepare his breakfast, but was stopped by something she saw in his eyes.

“What is it?”

“You ready to go? Leave here?”

“Where are we going?”

“Going to your caves. So about six miles, probably eight by the time we climb up and down all the little draws and gulleys between here and there, but I figure a good solid day’s travel, and we ought to be there.”

“I don’t even know for sure that the caves exist, though. Or that we’re anywhere near them, I guess I mean. I thought you weren’t even sure about which river I’d been looking at…”

“Let’s go to the caves, Liz. Will you come with me to the caves?”

“I’ll come with you.”

“We need to be out of here, one way or the other. Been here way too long. Surprised they haven’t come and dropped stuff on us already.”

She took hold of his shoulders, tried to get a look at his eyes, but he just stared at the ground, not particularly wanting her to see the depth of his weariness. “Dropped stuff on us…? Are you Ok this morning? Did you get any sleep?”

He looked at her then, resting his forehead against hers. “Just fine, Lizzie. Ready to get moving, find us a place to settle down.”

“Should we cache some things, whatever won’t go on our backs?”

“Don’t want to have to come back here. Let’s drag it, what we can’t carry. Rig up a harness like we did before, and drag it like a sled.”

“It looked like some pretty steep terrain between here and the canyon that might hold those caves…

“Yeah, it did! We’ll lower the bag when we have to, lower it over the side and go down after it. Might take a while, this trip, but if we have to camp somewhere between here and there, well, we’re equipped to do that, too.”

“You’re really excited about this, aren’t you?”

“I’m ready to be moving. Way past time to be moving.”

And, retrieving the bag from its spot in the spruce, she helped him pack.

[icefire]

Hopefully she'll at least be able to get him EAT something before they head out...Einar could definitely use the energy a "nutella fix" would give him.

[coltcowboy]

I hope they don't forget about Einer's main chute. It's still laying out there waiting for someone to find it.

[FOTH]

Aug 24, 2013 21:12:24 GMT -6 icefire said:

Hopefully she'll at least be able to get him EAT something before they head out...Einar could definitely use the energy a "nutella fix" would give him.

He ate as soon as he got up! But could probably use some more.

Aug 26, 2013 11:09:23 GMT -6 coltcowboy said:

I hope they don't forget about Einer's main chute. It's still laying out there waiting for someone to find it.

He has not forgotten...

Not a good thing to have some hiker find, in a few months!

Finding it may be another matter, though. Lot of country out there, and a lot of timber.

Thanks for reading!

[FOTH]

Each taking only a few essentials on their back, most of their gear was packed back into the drop bag as they prepared to leave, Einar rigging a pulling harness from some of the parachute webbing and—Liz carrying Will—insisting on taking the first turn at the hauling.

Having studied the map again as Liz packed the bedding, he’d settled more firmly on a course, allowing himself to suppose for the moment that he knew for certain their position on the map and base his calculations on that supposition, hoping its truth—or lack thereof—would become plain once they started moving. First, they must traverse the long valley in which they’d landed, head for what appeared on the map to be a low saddle or pass at its upper end which ought to allow them fairly easy access to the series of low ridges and ill-defined draws which lay between their present position and the big canyon in which he hoped to find Liz’s caves. If they were right, anywhere close to right, and if not…well, nothing terribly wrong with losing themselves in the vastness of an unknown land, now was there? Would be better than staying so close to their last known location. Had to finish breaking their ties with that last contact, with any possibility that it could be used at some point in the future as a start to a new search. Einar trusted Kiesl and his intentions, but life is an uncertain thing, and without knowing what had happened when he’d landed that plane, wherever he’d landed it…well, there simply weren’t any guarantees.

Liz was ready, and he took one last look at their camp, making sure nothing was being left behind, checking Will where he snuggled down in his mother’s hood, snug, warm and appearing as anxious as anyone to be going, to see some new territory. Gonna see lots of new territory in your life, little one. No doubt about that… And he would have started out, but Liz had him by the arm, was offering him some of the bread and cheese she’d had for breakfast. He shook his head, pulled the jar of Nutella from his coat pocket with a grin, but she wasn’t satisfied, would not release him until he’d actually opened the lid and had a big bite of the stuff, possessed of the notion, it seemed, that simply looking was somehow not enough…

“It’s going to be a long walk. I don’t want to end up having to roll you out of the trail and go on without you, about halfway through.”

“Don’t worry.” That wild grin again, Einar in fine spirits despite the already-intensifying hurt of his wrenched leg, glad to be going, to have a goal. “I’d find a way to drag myself over to the side and unhitch the harness, first roll over an embankment so I’d be out of the way…”

“Not funny. Have some more.”

“It’s not a limitless supply, you know. We’ve got to make it last.”

“You’ll set up a trapline when we get there, won’t you? Wherever we’re going? So we can look at this food as fuel to get us where we’re going, help us get set up so we can start producing out own. And I’m not going anywhere until you have some more.”

“Hey, you should have seen how much I had earlier this morning, when I got up,” and he showed her the dent in the jar’s contents, Liz somewhat impressed but still insisting he take another scoop. She could see the weariness in limb and feature, its lines not as effectively hidden as he might have hoped by the glee with which he was facing their departure. She knew he’d not yet had time to begin building up any sort of reserve after his long hunger, on top of which his body was struggling to begin healing whatever damage he’d done to his leg in falling, along with the other injuries incurred in his bad landing. Of those, none were as outwardly obvious as the leg, but they had traveled together too long for him to entirely conceal them from her, and she knew that the more energy he could take in just then, the better.

On the move then, Einar pulling and Liz out front, reasoning that being the more lightly burdened, the least she could do was to break trail, a theory which worked reasonably well until Einar decided that he simply must be out front in order to better choose their course around the valley. Through the timber he led them, heading for the pass he hoped to find some two miles distant and keeping his eyes open all the while for his main chute, the finding of which had taken, over the past two day, second priority to their efforts to place themselves on the map.

While he did not want to track up the open snow of the long valley floor, neither did he wish to have some hiker stumble across that still-packed main chute someday in the following months and, likely as not trying to do the right thing and return it to its rightful owner, rouse the curiosity of the unknown party from whom Roger Kiesl had seen fit to borrow the rig. Finding it, he had known from the beginning, was likely to pose some difficulty, everything having been white, drop bag, chutes, the ski suits with which Kilgore had so kindly equipped the two of them, and though he had searched some that first morning after the jump and scanned the valley on his descent from the ridge, he had seen no sign of it. Now as they traversed the valley he searched, scanning the open, snowy landscape near the center and seeking for any sign amongst the trees, a streak of white where none should have been, damage that appeared caused by a falling object, but he saw nothing.

Startled out of a trancelike focus intense enough both to keep him on his feet and facilitate the constant scanning of their surroundings for danger and for the chute—no small feat, under present circumstances—Einar whirled about at the touch of Liz’s hand on his shoulder, accepting the water she was offering him and sinking quite without any volition on his part to the snow beneath him. Head bowed, fighting for breath, he said nothing as Liz loosed the harness and fastened it around her own waist

“My turn for a while. You can still go out front if you need to pick our path, but Will’s asleep, and it would be a good time for me to pull for a while.”

Shook his head, pressed the knuckles of both hands briefly into his forehead in an attempt to ease a pounding which seemed increasingly to be settling there as they traveled, and looked up at her. “You can have the lead for a while. Just don’t forget to keep an eye out for…”

“Your chute?”

“Yeah. Haven’t seen it, and would rather not have to come back to this valley at all, after we leave. But if we don’t find it, we may have to.”

“What would it look like? Possibly a white backpack-thing with lots of straps, hanging in a tree?” She was doing her best to suppress a smile.

“Yeah. What…”

“Look up!”

Einar did, and though relieved and rather surprised to see the chute hanging there above their heads, his heart sank some at the realization that the thing had come to rest some thirty five feet above the ground, hanging by a strap far out from the trunk of a massive spruce.

[se209]

Glad they found it but now getting it down.



SE209