Coming Home

[FOTH]

Moving in the moonlight they left their hasty camp, drop bag secured once more to its carrying pole and everything sharply outlined in the stark silver light, willows bristling in harsh definition and the creek taking on a hard-edged, metallic tone beneath its brittle sheath of ice.

As they walked—Liz in the lead this time, her turn, she’d said, and he had not wanted to argue—world black and white and silver-shadowed around them in the moonlight, Einar’s mind returned to the jungle, and his dream. Hard reality—whatever the dream-vision had mercifully if unrealistically shown him—was that Andy had almost certainly not died that day, happy and at peace, had lingered for who knew how long and had almost certainly suffered dreadfully as a result of his own escape, interrogated for details about which he knew nothing, could know nothing, but it wouldn’t have made any difference to them, and Andy, the man who had never talked, would have borne it all wordlessly and in silence until at last the end had come for him. The thought of it was very nearly more than Einar could bear, tears freezing on his parka-collar in the moonlight and world losing its definition around him so that he had to squint and stare in a rather desperate attempt to stay in the present and regain some focus, keep from stumbling on the rough creekbed terrain beneath his feet.

When at last he steadied some and was able to look up there was Will again, little mittened hand reaching out from the cozy compartment on his mother’s back to grab at passing willows, and as if knowing, the boy squirmed, turned, looked at him, and Einar could not help but allow a smile to creep across his face in response to the child’s own. Life, joy and the strength to carry on.

They saw the rim-lights no more than night as they traveled, trees perhaps obscuring their view in places but even when the way was clear they could catch no glimpse, and were left to assume that the men had either moved on, or had moved back sufficiently from the rim itself as to be concealed by the intervening terrain, and though curious as to the meaning of the nightly visits, neither Einar nor Liz minded the thought that they were well and thoroughly concealed from one another, their little family and these mysterious men. Up the canyon they traveled, mile after mile of winding willow-path, red osier dogwood and the occasional tangle of chokecherry or serviceberry that had grown down and into the bed of the creek.

Ground rising, Einar knew they must be nearing the head of the canyon, and none too soon, for though the moon was near sinking below the high limestone rim, light slowly strengthened as dawn neared. He did not want to be caught in the canyon after daylight, knew there would be more cover up in the dark timber which hopefully awaited them and considering the uncertainty of the towers, very much wanted to gain that higher ground. Not that darkness had been any guarantee of safety, of course, considering the uncertain purpose of those towers and their potential means of infrared or other detection, but it was with a great sigh of relief that at last he caught sight of the tumbled rock and broken spires which marked the end of the canyon. No gentle rise to timbered slopes greeted them, however.

Squinting in the uncertain light, Einar searched for a draw which might allow them passage, some steep, rocky gully between spires, but instead it appeared they had found their way to the end of a box canyon, and become trapped. Frantic for a moment at the thought of it he dropped his end of the willow pole and hurried down to the bottom of the creekbed, boots crunching in the ice as he followed the water, seeking the spot from whence it came. Couldn’t be a waterfall, not quite, or he would have heard it, and if it wasn’t a waterfall, perhaps they might find passage up whatever channel the water was descending. Its broken surface glinting in the last light of the setting moon Einar found and followed the water, which seemed to be coming from several places at once, creek having split as it bounded and gurgled down from the heights above. Following the liveliest channel with his eyes he soon lost it amongst the rocks, but not so quickly as to rule it out as a potential avenue of escape. Liz, too, had set down the pole and joined him.

“Is there a way out?”

“Got to be. Just don’t know which one of these leads out, and don’t want to get up halfway up one of these gullies only to have to turn back after daylight because we get cliffed out up there. Should have known it would be like this. Should have been able to tell from the map.”

“The map did show a lot of jumbled terrain and close-together lines up here, but I thought there would be some way around it, too. It really looked like there would.”

“There will. Gonna be hard to get the bag up this, though. Any of it.”

“What if we drag it behind us again?”

“Up the cliffs?”

“Up the gully. And if it gets too steep, we can hide it somewhere, and come back.”

“This stuff is going to be too exposed once it really gets light. Just in case somebody’s watching from the rim over there. Once we’re off the cliffs and out of the gullies, I want us to be out for good. Not come back this way, at least not anytime soon. I know we need the stuff in the bag, if there’s a way to keep it. Will really help up get our new start up there. How about we keep on like we have been for now, carrying it between us. Maybe things will open up sooner than we think, and we’ll be able to get it all the way up the draw that way. And if not…well, just have to stop and see how much we can carry on our backs, I guess.”

Sounded better than anything else Liz could come up with, and a good deal better than what she had expected from Einar, whose first inclination almost always seemed to lean towards abandoning everything in order to make better time—and who needs things, anyway? Certainly not a man who doesn’t eat, doesn’t care if he’s dressed warmly and half the time would choose to sleep out in the weather on a cold, damp rock or some such if left to his own devices, instead of in a sleeping bag under shelter like a sensible person—so she was quick to agree.

“Yes, let’s give that a try. It’s difficult to tell exactly how things are above us in this light, so all we can do is to try.”

Trying, taking the pole and starting up the centermost and largest of the craggy draws, Einar and Liz slowly ascended, Einar once more in the lead and the going becoming steadily more difficult as the terrain demanded more and more contact simply to prevent their coming loose and tumbling back down the way they’d come. Limited to one hand each, one devoted as it was to keeping hold of the pole, this considerably slowed their pace so that a dusky but rising daylight soon overtook them, making more plain their steps if increasing the urgency of the climb.

[felicia]

Thank you

[FOTH]

Thank you, Felicia, for reading.

_______________________


Noon, or thereabouts, when finally they found themselves on more level footing, harrowing ascent behind them and thick streamers of cloud drifting across an increasingly silver sky to obscure the sun. Wallowing, faltering it vanished, swallowed in cloud. Breathing hard as he braced himself against the trunk of an aspen for balance, Einar was glad of the change, glad, especially, of the potential precipitation promised by the color of the clouds, the way they gathered with heavy bellies and arms outstretched to the horizon. Snow, should it materialize, would be a very good thing, help to obscure the trail they’d left in the canyon and give him a bit of assurance as to the safety of the new shelter-spot he hoped soon to find them. The climb had not been an easy thing, had left him more than once wondering very sincerely if they would be able to complete it all, let alone with the drop bag in tow.

They’d had to abandon the use of the pole because of the steepness of the slope, rocky drop-offs some eight to ten feet high often demanding to be negotiated and the bag having to be hauled up on a short rope that Einar would sometimes wrap around the smooth trunk of a stout chokecherry shrub for additional leverage while the two of them pulled with all their might, eventually dragging the thing up and over the obstacle of the moment. A number of times Liz had been sorry she’d tried so hard to convince Einar to take the bag along, had wanted, seeing his struggle, to suggest that they find a suitable ledge on which to secure it against some future return, but seeing the enthusiasm and energy with which he’d thrown himself into working it up that slope, she hadn’t had the heart to make any such suggestion.

And now here they were, scraggly, snow-bent aspens and tangled chokecherry brush giving way to a dense growth of subalpine fir and blue spruce, the safety and concealment they had been seeking. Scanning the canyon where it stretched out grey and winding below them, a deep, snaking cut in the surrounding thousands of acres of timberland and meadow, Einar allowed himself to settle into a weary crouch for the first time since starting the ascent. Would have done it sooner had he been certain he’d be able to rise again, but he’d had his doubts. Now, timber reached and the canyon below them, he was grateful simply to be able to stop moving for a few minutes, and to breathe. Liz crouched beside him, freeing Will from her hood for a much-needed snack.

“I doubt many people have taken that path before us!”

“Doubt many will after, either. Good thing. Good to leave the canyon behind. Now we’ve just got to…”

Einar never finished his sentence, Liz following his gaze and thinking at first that he must have spotted something in the canyon or on its rim, but it did not take her long to realize that he wasn’t seeing much, was, in fact, drifting not too far from sleep. Beginning to sag forward, Einar roused himself before Liz had time to try, took in a big gulp of air as if he’d stopped breathing for a time, scrubbed a quick handful of snow across his face and stared wide-eyed up at the sky.

“Got to put a little more distance between us and the head of the canyon, here, and then find some good shelter before the storm starts. Feels like it could be a big one.”

“Yes, the sky sure is looking heavy, isn’t it? Should we try and find another pole so we can carry the drop bag instead of drag it. That seemed to be working pretty well really, until we hit the steep stuff…”

Hauling himself to his feet with a great deal more enthusiasm than speed, Einar began searching for the appropriate branch, one which would support the weight of the bag without adding too greatly to their burden. “Wouldn’t hurt. Dense as this timber’s looking, it’s going to be difficult to maneuver the bag through it, no matter how it’s carried. But even with a storm coming, fewer tracks are better!”

Agreeing, Liz retrieved some food from the bag—jerky, almonds and a chunk of the cheese Susan had sent them—as Einar worked to secure it to the branch he’d chosen, and when she gave him his share, he ate without hesitation. A bit strange, she could not help but think, rather out of character for him of late, but surely a good sign.

Einar was not giving a lot of thought to his eating of the food as he finished lashing the bag in place and prepared to lift his end of the pole—sharp end this time, it was his turn—but only of the need to find and secure a new home for his son, a spot safe from the ravages of wind and weather and concealed, as well as possible, from the eyes of any enemies who might still be seeking their discovery and capture. If he was to keep on his feet long enough to do this, he knew he would be needing energy, and needing energy, he ate. It really was, for once, as simple as that.

Other things were not so simple, timber closing in so that before long not only did they have to once more abandon the carrying-pole, but could not drag the bag, either. Beneath a thin and spring-rotted layer of snow lay so many deadfall trees, crisscrossed and stacked atop one another, that movement of any sort with the bag proved tremendously difficult, the simple act of staying on their feet and preventing legs from slipping down between hidden deadfall requiring of Einar and Liz all the focus they could muster. After half an hour of such travel, each taking turns with the bag and helping the other to lift it up and over when they came to a particularly high pile of rubble, both were exhausted, ready for a break. It was Liz who insisted they stop, simply sitting down and refusing, for the time, to go any further. Both were silent for a time, catching their breath and rubbing tree-bruised shins, Liz tightening her parka hood against a thin, piercing wind that had begun to snake its way between the trees.

“How long do you think it goes on like this?”

Einar blinked wearily at the great expanse of tangled trunks around them, main event clearly a number of years ago, for trees which must have been quite small when it happened had grown up quite well to cover the destruction. Here and there enormous, moss and lichen-covered granite boulders reared up out of the slope, many of them surrounded to varying degrees with the fallen, leaning trunks of wind-killed trees. He shrugged. “Acres of it, probably. When these winds come through, there’s no telling how far the effects will reach, really. Probably goes on until some terrain feature stopped it. Just have to keep going, and see.”

“The storm’s going to be here soon, and in a few hours, it will start getting dark…”

“You want to camp in this stuff?”

“Maybe we should be looking for a place.”

“Thought had occurred to me. Actually, it went a good deal beyond camping. Look around us, here. Look at all these building materials! A lot of this deadfall has ended up propped off the ground in a way that it’s mostly been kept from rotting. Has just dried. Cured. In time, we could turn some of it into a cabin that would rival our last one, and the location’s not too bad, either. Think of it. Who would venture into the middle of this stuff? No causal hiker or hunter, that’s for sure.”

[icefire]

The location would definitely work...building materials right there at hand, LOTS of available firewood, as well; PLUS the added advantage that all but the most determined folks would steer clear of that mess. The added bonus is that they wouldn't have to try to drag the drop bag any farther.

Sure would be nice if they could go back for all that moose meat, though!

[FOTH]

Nov 22, 2013 19:16:29 GMT -6 icefire said:

The location would definitely work...building materials right there at hand, LOTS of available firewood, as well; PLUS the added advantage that all but the most determined folks would steer clear of that mess. The added bonus is that they wouldn't have to try to drag the drop bag any farther.

Sure would be nice if they could go back for all that moose meat, though!

They will definitely want to go back for as much of that moose as they can carry, if circumstances allow!

Thanks for reading.

______________________

While their long term plans remained for the moment uncertain, it was soon clear to Einar, wind sweeping down through the timber and bringing with it icy pellets of hard spring snow which stung exposed flesh and took the breath from him when he turned to face its forceful blast, knew that they would be going no farther that night. If travel through that broken and snow-slippery landscape of fallen trees had been challenging by daylight, it would prove all but impossible in the dark, way fraught with hidden dangers waiting to trap and twist an ankle, break a leg… He shuddered at the thought of trying to help Liz through the remaining deadfall with a broken leg, yards of it, acres, anyone’s guess, really. Certainly time to stop, and he nodded to her, rising.

“Yes, better look for a place to shelter for the night. Best if we can find it before dark.”

“Something out of the wind, hopefully. Maybe beside one of these big boulders? It would act as a windbreak and also give us some protection if the wind really picks up and more of these trees decide to fall…”

“Doubtful. Whatever came through here a few years ago probably took down anything that was in the least inclined to go. This area should be safer than most when it comes to falling timber, but no harm in taking some precautions. It’s certainly a natural path for the winds, that’s for sure. Something about the terrain just channels them right through here.”

“Yes.” Liz shivered, saw that Einar was doing the same and got back to her feet. “Well, let’s not just sit here talking about it while we freeze in the wind! Come on. The light’s fading fast. Let’s find this camp.”

Everything was snow-covered and slippery, no prospect immediately offering itself which might give them a bit of comfort for the night, and for a good quarter hour Einar and Liz wandered somewhat aimlessly through the timber, Einar once catching himself with eyes drooping as he walked, sleep near. Wouldn’t do, and he scrubbed snow across his face, staring up at a sky full of heavy, scudding clouds and holding himself rigid against a chill that wanted to unsteady his steps and send him sinking to the ground in a heat-conserving huddle. Not yet. Had to find something a little better.

Boulder up ahead, bulking black in the stormy twilight, and he headed for it, picking his way slowly over yet more fallen, tangled trees as Liz followed along behind with her end of the pole. Behind the boulder stood a grouping of spruces, spared, somehow, from the worst ravages of the wind which had leveled so many, and there beneath them was a small spot which had been largely shielded by interlocking boughs from any significant accumulation of snow. Looked good to Einar, as good as anything they were likely to find before the light left them entirely, and, stumbling a bit, supporting himself against the lichen-covered flank of the boulder, he led the way into the shelter, sinking involuntarily to his knees. All done, at least for that day. Liz joined him, and he gave her a weary grin.

“Look alright?”

“It looks great! Do you feel how much less the wind is, in here?”

He hadn’t, went ahead and nodded anyway, not really wanting to have to explain. Couldn’t feel much of anything by that point, but observing, he did note that small branches within the shelter area seemed little moved by the wind, blocked as it was by the boulder from one side, angle of the hill and density of the evergreens on the other.

Fine place to pass a night, and without waiting—could tell it wouldn’t be long before he rather thoroughly lost the use of his hands, if he waited—he began unfastening the straps around the bag. Liz would want to eat. He wished only to sleep. To stop moving, and to sleep. But it was not to be, must not be, until provisions had been made which might help see them through the worst part of whatever storm seemed to be coming. Already snow spat down from a now-blackening sky outside the dense branches of their shelter, flakes still icy an hard but more substantial than the pellets which had earlier stung them as they walked, and he pulled out the tarp which had been included in the bag, anchoring two of its corners to the ground several feet out from the boulder and securing its top by jamming sticks into crevices in the granite itself, and fastening the tarp to these.

Rough lean-to completed he turned to Liz, who had pulled out the sleeping bags and was making an attempt to open them up without allowing any blowing snow to get inside. By then the wind was nearing gale force on the hillside, howling and blasting behind the boulder, both Einar and Liz tremendously grateful for the breaking of its force, for the relative hush which reigned behind the rock. Still, Liz had to lean in close before he could make our her words when she spoke.

“How about a fire? Do you think we could have a fire tonight? It’s certainly still enough back here, and sure would be nice to get some heat reflecting off that rock before we go to sleep!”

Clamping his jaw to prevent the teeth rattling inside, Einar shook his head. “Not yet. Better to…give it some more time. Let the storm settle in. Men on the rim…”

“They’re miles away! And surely not out in this storm, either. It has to be terrible over there, as open as that rim is!”

“May not be out, but the towers…”

“You’re really concerned about it, aren’t you?”

“Yeah. Give it one more day, let us put something more substantial than this one boulder between us and that rim.”

“Ok. We can manage, but in that case let’s hurry up and get into some dry clothes and in the sleeping bags before we can get any colder, or it’s going to be a long night. Will is even a little chilly I think, the way this wind has been blowing.”

Wordlessly Einar followed her lead, not bothering to zip the bags together as they had been doing, but slipping into his own just as soon as he’d got out of his snow-crusted clothing, sleep near as soon as he let his head rest on the ground. Liz would not let him sleep, raising herself on one elbow as she fed a warming and now-contented Will and fixing them a hasty supper in the near-darkness, insisting that he have his portion. No philosophical objections on Einar’s part, not this time, memory of the past night’s dream returning strongly to him with the advance of darkness and his determination to go forward and make a life for his little Will stronger than ever, but still he ate sparingly, having suffered the consequences of the morning’s ample repast in an aggravatingly frequent need to take breaks throughout the day and scurry off behind trees, a process which had left him terribly drained and dehydrated by the time they reached their evening shelter. Not such an easy thing to just start up eating again after so long without, and he knew he’d better be giving some attention to the process if he wanted to get through it successfully. Tomorrow. To weary to think any more about it that, night, to think about anything, and he was asleep.

Despite Einar’s weariness his sleep that night was brief, cold creeping in without any regard for the sleeping bag until soon he felt like he was freezing from the inside out, knew it was an illusion as he lay curled in a ball with knees drawn up to his chest, arms wrapped around them and fingers stuck down between the painfully protruding ribs on his back, something to hang onto as he shook and stared out into the windy darkness, half-wishing some urgent matter might arise which would send them scrambling to their feet and on the move again, just so he could warm up a bit. Knew in reality that it would only take more out of him though, that wind. Better off right where he was. Would get through the night, even if he did not at the moment especially feel like it.

Liz, too, woke in the night to the sound of the wind and of Einar breathing in the cold. Lying still for a moment only, she hurried to find him and zip the bags together, shivering at bitter draft that entered during the process and at the icy chill that had crept so quickly into Einar’s bones, did her best to warm him, but that night, it did little good.

[ericb]

I rarely post, with my work being what it is. I only barely manage to sneak on and read it seems. I'm making the time now to do so to say thank you. Your writing is a chance for me to take a small break from everyday life and I enjoy and appreciate it very much. May Thanksgiving find you and all my fellow readers here tucked warmly in the blessing of the lord.

[FOTH]

Nov 27, 2013 20:32:33 GMT -6 ericb said:

I rarely post, with my work being what it is. I only barely manage to sneak on and read it seems. I'm making the time now to do so to say thank you. Your writing is a chance for me to take a small break from everyday life and I enjoy and appreciate it very much. May Thanksgiving find you and all my fellow readers here tucked warmly in the blessing of the lord.

Ericb, I am very glad that this story can bring good things to your life, and greatly appreciate your letting me know.

I want to wish you and all the readers a blessed Thanksgiving, also. Each of us has so many blessings, so much to be thankful for.

I thank all of you for reading, and for participating in the discussion on this story. That is a blessing to me.

Happy Thanksgiving!

_________________


Snow curled down heavily from a leaden sky with the coming of a muted dawn, Einar feeling all hollow and heavy after the cold, sleepless hours of the night, in no hurry to move. Moved anyway, eventually, no sign of stirring from Liz, who had herself only recently drifted off to sleep, and the realization weighing heavily on him that if they were to be getting through this storm, they would need a place where they could have a fire.

Freeing himself from Liz’s grasp and from the confines of the sleeping bag—just beginning to feel a little warm in there, and he half hated to leave—he crept out from beneath the lean-to tarp which had, in combination with the heavy spruce boughs above, served to keep them almost entirely out of the snow for the night, standing, swaying, squinting and shaking his head in an attempt to chase away some of the dizziness. Didn’t work too well, but there were plenty of trees to use for support whenever he began losing his place, and with their help he made reasonable progress. By daylight, such as it was, the place looked even more bleak and dismal than it had done at twilight the evening before, tumbled masses of downed timber interspersed with hulking, black-sided boulders that looked as though they might have been ejected from some long-dead volcano to tumble down the mountain before coming to rest on this forsaken slope. Not true, Einar knew, for the boulders were some close relative of granite and therefore not volcanic at all, but still the impression remained, adding to the feeling of mystery that hung heavily about the place.

Snow increasing, visibility narrowed down to a few yards and Einar found himself stopping frequently to look back in search of landmarks, not wanting to go too far and end up unable to return to Liz, and their camp. It was a real danger given the circumstances, and the last thing he wanted was for her to come out looking for him, and lose her place, too. Could be disastrous. He was careful. Between looming boulders, swirling snow, tree-skeletons that rose seemingly out of nowhere to bruise shins, trap legs and send him sprawling, it was no easy task, this keeping of landmarks and remembering his path, but he did it, and when at last he stumbled down a fairly steep decline and into a tiny basin where the force of the wind was noticeably less and little timber had fallen, he did know how to get back to Liz.

The place was a singular one, oddly sheltered from the ravages of wind and weather both by a sharp rise of ground on the downhill side which made it, in effect, a pocket, and by the heavier-than-usual fringe of black timber, spruce and sublpine fir, which rimmed it on all sides. Crouching against one of the few stunted aspens that graced the hidden basin’s floor, Einar bowed his head and fought to catch his breath, thankful for the near-absence of the wind and noticing for the first time since leaving camp how very cold he had managed to become. Could barely feel hands or feet, crop of fresh bruises on shins and hips from his many slips amongst the fallen timber present only as a dull ache, barely noticeable. Not a particularly good sign, he told himself, not if he wanted to make it back to the spot where Liz and little Will lay sleeping, and wanting to stave off the drowsiness that he knew would soon be stalking him if he remained there immobile in the cold—sweet, comforting, and almost certain to prove deadly, under present circumstances—he rose, kicked a stout aspen branch free from its resting spot in the crusty snow and worked at his shins and legs until some feeling had been restored and there was no mistaking the bruises, no chance of drifting off to sleep where he stood. Was noticing them then, for sure, and raising his eyes to the shelter-slope above, he noticed something else, too. While largely shielding the place from the wind, that rocky rise would serve another function, too. Would protect them entirely from visual detection by anyone in the canyon or on its rim, provide a barrier dense and thick enough to conceal any fire they might have from detection by any instruments those newly-erected towers might support, and, he could not help but think, rendered the place quite a viable consideration in their search for more permanent shelter.

Permanent or not, he knew they would be needing such shelter simply to get them through the remaining fury of the storm, lessening of the wind no small thing when dealing with low temperatures and wet weather, and the prospect of being able to safely have a fire perhaps the most important thing of all. Well, don’t just stand here thinking about it, because your legs are already starting to go numb again, and unless you want to keep whacking them with that stick just to keep yourself awake, better be moving on.

Moving back, rather, and wearily climbing up and over the rise which sheltered the tiny basin he began one by one searching out the landmarks he had set, counting the steps between one and the next simply to give his brain something concrete on which to focus, hopefully prevent his getting lost inside himself, sitting down and sleeping. Strategy must have worked, for there, after what seemed a very long time, he recognized the spruces in which they had slept, stumbled forward on wooden feet and parted their boughs, anxious to tell Liz what he had found and relieved beyond words that he had managed successfully to retrace his steps in that storm. Only to be met by more downed timber, emptiness and a wall of swirling white.

Nothing there amongst those trees, no black boulder, no tarp and worst of all no Liz, which meant—on hands and knees now, all the strength seeming to have gone out of him—that he had no idea where he was, where they were, or how to reconcile the two. Had to try, couldn’t simply sit there and let the cold take him, which he knew it was even then in the active process of doing, and forcing himself to his feet he went on, stumbling across the little clearing—and right into something which crinkled and protested under his hands, gave way, unable to support him. Confused, Einar sat for a moment where he had fallen, trying to make some sense of this strange substance, but he was not to be left long in suspense, the whole mess moving, rustling, rising and from its center emerging a heavily armed and somewhat irate human, ready to do battle with whatever creature had so suddenly and inconsiderately intruded on the shelter where she had been sleeping with her small son.

Liz. Einar fell back in the snow, shaking with silent laughter and with cold and the exhaustion of his trek through the storm, no words to explain when Liz came to him, raised him and hurried to brush some of the snow from his face, but he went back with her to the half-ruined shelter—tarp! Of course, it was the tarp I ran into, couldn’t see it for the snow and couldn’t see the boulder, either, whitened as it was—and crept somewhat unwillingly into the sleeping bag at her rather sharp insistence, not feeling cold in the least, everything right with the world, now that he had found his way back.

Only it wasn’t quite right, for still there remained the task of moving camp to the sheltered spot he had found, and before they could do that he must tell Liz about the place, let her know that there, they could have a fire, hot soup, all the things she had been wanting…but still, the words would not come. Honey, she was offering him honey, insisting he have some and though his mouth seemed stuck shut and he couldn’t make himself swallow when he tried, he did take the honey, cramming a bit of snow in his mouth to help it go down, and he would have added more had Liz not stopped him, pointed out that they had water which had been kept unfrozen overnight in the sleeping bag. Much better alternative, and he drank, resting for a minute, finding his voice.

“Found us a shelter up there. Good place. Can have a fire, and everything. Let’s pack everything up, and I’ll show you the way.”

Liz could only hold him, hold back the tears, realizing how long he must have been gone and knowing that once again, she had come close to losing him.

Moving slowly in the snow, carefully lest it drift into the sleeping bag as they worked, Einar and Liz packed up the small camp, loaded everything into the drop bag and set out for the spot Einar had found for them. Though his tracks were mostly drifted over Einar was, by some not-quite-definable sense, able to lead them straight to the little sheltered spot behind the rocky rise, Liz immediately noting the easing of the wind when they dropped down over its rim and Einar, dropping his end of the bag beneath a tree, grinning back at her as if to say, here it is, our home for now, maybe for later, too… but Einar did not stay long standing with Liz as she surveyed the place, some slight movement having caught his eye and then he was moving towards it, knowing, recognizing, stealthy steps bringing him within striking distance and he made his move, heavy stout aspen stick flying, taking the bird right in the midsection and knocking it from its branch. A good, fat grouse with which to feast and celebrate their coming to this new place.

[icefire]

Seems like a great place for the little family to make a home, whether temporary or permanent. I really look forward to reading the continuing saga of Einar, Liz, and little Will. Thank you for continuing to write and keep us all entertained while we learn survival information!

Happy Thanksgiving to you and yours!

[FOTH]

Happy Thanksgiving to you, too, Icefire. Thanks for reading.

Yes, this could turn out to be a good place for them to settle for a while.

______________________

Liz made the fire while Einar worked with numbed hands to pluck and prepare the grouse, everything still cold and uncoordinated, but success more or less his, and before long they were sitting together before the growing flames, Einar nearly as mesmerized as Will by them, and by the sight and smell of the roasting bird. The spot they had chosen after a somewhat hasty exploration of the tiny basin was proving to be a good one, nestled as it was up against the rise which concealed the place from the canyon and winder world, and nearly devoid of the blasting, scouring power of the wind which had been their lot since the arrival of the storm.

Einar, weary and cold as he had become after the long night and his two treks through the snow, might have fallen asleep while happily watching the grouse roast, had it not been for Will’s excited and almost-constant commentary on the event, and the urgent need to help Liz keep him from getting too close to the flames. Seemed the little one simply couldn’t resist the temptation of reaching for that bird, and even after stern correction by both parents, remained determined to try. Einar was still too cold and shaky to trust himself holding Will, but when he took up a position blockading the fire, body serving as a physical barrier against the child getting too close, Liz was glad, for she knew it meant he would be warming in a more timely manner than otherwise he might have allowed himself. Einar thawing and Will thoroughly captivated by the bird-roasting process, Liz took some time to put up the tarp to serve as heat-reflector and snow-barrier, her turn to do it, and she had the feeling they might be staying in that spot for some time, so best they have a bit of shelter.

Eating in earnest silence but with a tremendous appreciation for the hot meal, Einar and Liz all but finished the grouse, Will getting little nibbles here and there and very much enjoying the crispy, greasy piece of skin Liz gave him to gnaw upon, squealing with delight at its varied textures and delectable taste.

A bit steadier with some warm food in him and the wind blocked by surrounding terrain, Einar studied the place with a critical eye, inspecting the contours of surrounding timber and terrain for any advantage they might be expected to give either resident or invader, and finding the place to be good. Certainly a safe spot to pass a stormy day or two, and perhaps to settle or a longer period of time, as well. No need to decide just then. For the moment the storm was raging, snow and wind erasing all sign of their passage through the canyon, sweeping away the smoke from the little fire by which they warmed themselves, and everyone had a belly full of grouse. All things considered, a very good day. Not over yet, however, Einar remembering with a start that daylight had barely been creeping in when first he had left their old camp to go in search of a better place, day barely half spent, at most. Which left time to do more exploration before dark, and given energy by the infusion of protein, Einar found himself anxious to be up and moving. His mind, at least, was anxious, body slightly less so, as it informed him just as soon as he made an attempt at rising, limbs heavy and a weariness in him which would have lent itself far better to sleep than to exploration.

Well. Sleep could come later, and he rose, taking his leave of the fire and wandering first up one side of the steep slope that guarded their new shelter and then around the back, onto the slope of the mountain itself. No immediate sign of game animals, nothing out and stirring in the storm aside from a single scrawny mountain man, hair and beard already plastered white with blowing snow now that he was out of the deep shelter of the basin, and he stopped under a spruce, facing the wind as he shook snow from his hair and pulled up his hood. Cold. Wind seemed to be going right through him, chattering his teeth and knifing between his ribs despite the energy given him by the recent meal, but he did not much mind. Was used to it. Grouse. Let’s try and pay attention, here. You’re looking for more grouse. Almost always more when you find one, and even if we don’t need him today, would be nice to know if he’s available for the future. Too much snow to see droppings, though, and if the second bird was in the area, he wasn’t showing himself. Was probably all huddled down against the storm, like all the other sensible creatures. He laughed, gritted his teeth as a particularly forceful gust blew hard-edged snow crystals into his face, started off up the slope again.

Climbing and traversing until he’d gone all the way around the rim of the little basin Einar kept up his search for game, seeing, in a particularly sheltered spot beneath some timber, a half-drifted rabbit trail and a few trees that appeared to have been mangled by elk scraping velvet from their antlers, he decided to call it a day, return to camp and do more scouting when the storm had passed and creatures had once more begun moving about. Liz was glad of his decision, having stayed reluctantly behind to tend the fire and counting every minute that he was away, praying that he would not choose that day as a good one to go wandering and lose himself in the storm, again. Catching his breath after the constant blast and fury of the wind, Einar crouched silent beside the fire for a full minute before finally grinning up at Liz where she stood offering him a mug of warm broth from the pot of grouse bones she had been boiling down.

“Real unique place, this little dip in the ground where we’ve settled. Nothing else like it around here, just timbered slopes and a lot of deadfall. Didn’t see many tracks or anything, but figure we will after the storm. If we stay.”

“Do you want to stay?”

Einar shrugged. “Has its advantages, I guess. Real hard to travel through this stuff, as we found out yesterday and again this morning! So not too likely we’d ever be getting company of the two-legged variety, if we were to settle here for a while. Don’t know about water. Probably a seep or little spring of some sort up in the timber around here, but couldn’t really know that until we stumbled on it. Plenty of snow to melt for now, though.”

“It does feel pretty safe and secure here, compared to some of the places we’ve stayed lately. Maybe we could try it out. At least until the storm’s over, for sure…”

“Sure. I’ll go for that.”

“Great! Now will you please go for some of this broth, too, before you just sit there and freeze solid?”

“Aw, long way from freezing solid,” but he wasn’t so sure, the way he felt. Hadn’t been anything approaching warm since sometime days before, just couldn’t seem to shake the chill that had settled in his bones, and knowing it would be a good idea he took the broth, inhaled its steam for a while before drinking, warmth of the liquid feeling strange as it went down and its presence leaving him sleepy, a feeling which he fought, eventually standing in an attempt to loosen its hold on him. “Good stuff. Thanks."

[FOTH]

Storm raging on, Einar took time that day to improve their shelter situation, dragging over trees from the nearest area of deadfall and stacking them to create a windbreak on the uphill side, from which gusts seemed to come when on rare occasions they did find their way down into the depression which was sheltering them. Will riding in her parka hood, Liz helped him, the two of them kicking in unison in an effort to free frozen deadfall aspens from their places in the snow and, succeeding, each of them taking an end, hoisting the trees up and over snowdrifts and deadfall and finally skidding them down into the tiny basin for use in their shelter. It was hard work between the cold and challenges posed by the terrain, but Einar was glad to be doing it. The time had come, he’d decided, to stop moving for a while, and this place seemed better than any he’d seen since leaving Bud and Susan’s several weeks before.

Einar, stumbling slightly as he hoisted his end of yet another log over a fallen aspen—leg still hurt from his hard landing coming out of the plane--didn’t want to admit it, but he was tired, becoming increasingly unsure of his judgment if not of his ability to go on for as long as going was demanded. More than anything, he wanted a safe place where he could get Liz and little Will established even if temporarily, secure from the elements and with some provision made for their ongoing sustenance. The last few days, this need had seemed to take on an added urgency in his mind, to demand fulfillment even as circumstances seemed to be conspiring to keep them on the move, on the run, exiled from the canyon, the caves and from what had appeared a sure and long-lasting supply of meat. This odd little terrain feature, tucked away so discreetly on its all-but-impenetrable mountainside of solid timber, seemed perhaps an answer to his unspoken prayers. No time to lose. He had a shelter to build.

Sensing Einar’s urgency if not quite understanding it, Liz worked through the remainder of the day helping him move logs and stack them between the two firs which had supported the first several, their wall growing in height and its wind-stopping effect improving dramatically until even the stray gusts that occasionally found their way into the sheltered depression were almost entirely prevented from affecting those in the shelter. Pile a bit of snow against the windward side, stuff moss or usnea lichen into a few cracks between logs, and they would have the start to a nice, solid structure which might someday even become a cabin, of sorts.

Sometime near dusk, despite being greatly pleased with their progress so far and wanting very badly to continue the work, Einar found himself simply unable to lift another log, arms trembling when he tried, failing to comply with his demands. Liz saw, lowered her end of the log to the ground and went to him, taking him by the arm and urging him back towards the shelter. By the time they reached the place Einar could not stop his arms shaking no matter how hard he tried, the cold, Liz expected, but it didn’t feel like cold to him. Not that he could necessarily rely on the way things felt. He couldn’t feel much of anything, at all, and when Liz suggested he sit down and mind the fire for a minute, he did not object. Almost fell asleep there staring into the flames and trying to get his brain to cooperate so he could plan further steps which might need doing on their shelter, but returned abruptly to wakefulness when Will let out a squeal of delight at the sight of a pinecone exploding into flame.

On his feet and staring in some confusion at the child until he realized the origin of the outburst—a joyous one, he now saw—Einar shook his head, scrubbed a hand across his eyes and resolved to keep moving for a while, reserve sleep for some later time when all were tucked into their sleeping bags. For the moment work remained to be done, his first task—the idea had occurred to him during his sleepy reverie before the flames—being to stretch the parachute from the top of the stacked-log wall to the ground opposite it, thus creating for them a fairly large area in which snow would not fall. Though fairly well shielded by overhanging evergreen branches, any further reduction in snowfall would, he knew, help keep clothing, sleeping bags and other gear dry, and would be most welcome. First to find the chute, which he did, digging around in the drop bag and starting to unfold it. Though focused on this task the tremor in his arms would not leave him, a fact which he tried unsuccessfully to conceal from Liz by crossing his arms and appearing absorbed in studying the parachute every time she turned his direction. No success at all, Liz pausing in her own work—time to prepare a supper soup—to bring him a mug of hot water laced with honey and spruce needles, staying with him while he drank.

“What’s the idea with the parachute? Making us a tent?”

He nodded, hesitating to speak lest that come out all shaky, too, but she was staring at him, waiting for an answer.

“Tent, yes. Keep the snow out, some of the heat in. Have to leave an open space for the smoke. Kind of like a tipi, but different shape.” Good enough. Speech a little wobbly, perhaps, but she seemed to be understanding him. Understanding more than he’d thought, apparently.

“What’s wrong with your arms? Are you cold?”

“Maybe a little. Nothing wrong. Just worn out from carrying trees. Glad we got it done.”

“Me too! This place is almost cozy, and surely will be, before we get done. Are you thinking of staying here for a while, now that we’ve done all this work?”

“Was thinking about it. What do you say? Ready to try and settle down for a little while?”

Liz’s smile answered for her, and together they stretched out the parachute, tucked it under the final log on the stack and secured it with rocks and branches to the ground at the far end of the shelter, creating a roof.

[FOTH]

Improvised roof secured in place and the space beneath it beginning to warm with Liz’s little fire, the two of them worked together to cut fir boughs for a sort of floor, shaking from them the freshly fallen snow and using others to sweep and scrape the ground beneath the parachute until it, too, was nearly free of snow, before spreading boughs on which to sit and sleep. The result was a reasonably dry, comfortable shelter in which, once the sleeping bags and their foam pads were unrolled, even little Will could freely crawl about without ending up all wet or snowy.

While recognizing the still-temporary nature of the place and its need for many further modifications if it was to serve successfully as a longer-term shelter, the absence of wind and snow and the warming air within the place did go a long way towards easing the almost-frantic ferocity with which Einar had been prodded to stay on his feet and haul those dead trees, work until he had secured a place for his family, and Liz was glad to see the change in him, a willingness to sit for a while, and to get warm. Still his arms shook, entire body trembling at times though still not, he sensed, from the cold, and this might have bothered him had he not been far too weary to pay it any mind. Was, in fact, drifting off to sleep right where he sat, head sagging, snapping back upright and wanting to reverse the trend—not time for sleep yet—he rose, left the shelter and stood just outside its enclosure, listening to the storm in the trees overhead. Wind was gusty, silence reigning for a moment every now and then but followed always by a distant rush, a roar, gaining volume and momentum as it approached, and staring up into the starless blackness, he could picture the treetops bending before the wind, half-flattening, bowing before the mighty blast of its breath—but rising again, springing back to await the next onslaught.

Good way to live one’s life, he thought, feeling a kinship with the wild, ice-coated trees and nodding to them before breaking off an armload of small, brittle-dead branches from some of the nearest ones and ducking back into the shelter. Dark by that time, but well lit beneath the tent of parachute material, much of the fire’s light reflected back to them by the white cloth, and he studied it with some consternation, knowing that its glowing globe of light would show up like a beacon to anyone observing from higher ground—or flying overhead. Not a concern on a night like that one, terrain preventing observation from anywhere but the air and storm raging with too much fury for anything to be observing them from up there, but it was certainly something they would have to keep in mind for the future, a good reason to get a real, solid roof put on the place as quickly as they could, if they meant to stay very long at all.

Taking Will and sitting down cross-legged before the fire—cold now, wind seeming to have gone right through him--he watched in silence for a minute as Liz stirred something into her supper stew. The child was curious, wouldn’t sit still, and Einar finally had to release him. Toddling, tripping, he resorted to hands and knees as he quickly made his way over to his mother’s side, excitedly remarking over the fire. Which word, Einar noted, he had over a matter of mere weeks, taught himself to correctly pronounce. A good sign, he figured, when it came to the little one’s present and future intellectual abilities. Lots to teach him about the world. Starting, it appeared, with the very important lesson that one must not disturb his mother when she’s in the middle of making stew, and Einar rose, scooped him up.

“Hey now, you’ve got to wait until it’s done, just like the rest of us. What’s your big hurry, anyway? You hungry, or do you just like the smell?”

Will did not answer, displeased at being pulled away from the object of his attention, struggling to get free. Einar let him go, Will crawling a couple of feet back towards Liz, and the fire, before stopping to look back at his father as if asking, what are you going to do about it? Einar remained still, meeting Will’s eyes and shaking his head. Will stopped, looked away in defiance, but going no nearer the fire. Liz had watched the entire interaction with great interest, unsure how the two had come to their understanding, but sure that they had done so.

“Well, no need to wait too long, because supper’s almost ready! Grouse bones with a little meat left, some spruce needles for seasoning and a bunch of dried serviceberries I found clinging to bushes as we climbed up out of the canyon. Filled my pockets with them, and thought they’d go well in the stew.”

“Sure smells like it. Kind of like old times…seem to remember passing an entire winter once on stews of bear fat, wild meat and dried berries, with some spring beauty or avalanche lily roots added in, from time to time.”

“Yes, Will was grown on such stews, and he seems to have turned out quite well. Must have been just the right things for raising a bright, healthy mountain child. With more than his share of his father’s stubbornness, it looks like.”

“That comes from the wolverine meat!” And because he said it with a straight face Liz did not know whether Einar meant it seriously, or not, but either way was fine with her. Their son had certainly inherited a good deal of strength and perseverance from somewhere, and whatever the source or sources, she was glad to see it developing, as he would certainly need such qualities in the uncertain life that lay before him—and before them all. For the moment though, all uncertainty aside, they were together as a family, not under immediate threat of either capture by the enemy or destruction by the elements, and one could hardly ask more of life.

Stew was ready, and together they sat around the fire and ate their fill as overhead the wind rushed and howled through the evergreens, its force never reaching them there in the deep shelter of the tiny basin. Tomorrow, Einar thought to himself as he half-dosed over his cup of stew, it would be time to build a roof.

[pacnorwest]

Thank you FOTH, it is good to see positive things happening.