by Karen Pepin
I followed along the side of the wall until it came to a clean cut end. I peered around its edge and saw that it continued on in a new direction perpendicular to its previous path. Curious, I followed it. The tall trees hid its height from me. I touched the wall again. Could this be the same large gray rock plateau I saw earlier?
I stepped back for a better view. High up on the surface of the wall I spotted a series of white symbols: I recognized two of them, an "A" and an "N", the first letters of my name. These were the same marking symbols the elders and chiefs knew. Was this structure something out of the elders’ stories? Would they know what this was?
It was growing noticeably darker under the trees and the long, grassy line started taking on the orange tinge of the suns lowering in the sky. I got moving. I was not a good enough hunter to take a large hotar. To come against one, injured as I was, would mean my death. Even with two good legs, my chances alone against such a beast would be slim. Yes, I survived a small hotar. Yes, I survived the razortooth. I knew in my bones that I would not survive a this unless I was better prepared.
I was oddly reluctant to abandon the strange wall. It extended a long way, but I could see its end ahead. Instead of stopping in a clearly delineated straight edge, this part of it ended in a jagged, sharp mess. I eased around the corner, past the broken edges and stopped.
Just around the edge sat a small cave-like structure. Its walls, floor, and ceiling were smooth and straight, not rough or irregular in shape. I rubbed at the goose bumps on my arms. What could have built something like this? Next to the small cave sat a larger cave with the same perfect cut shape. I looked farther ahead. A pattern of smaller and larger caves repeated as far as I could see. Looking upward, I saw more caves, each stacked one on top of the other like a humbee's sweetcomb, rising five levels high. The perfect lines and organized sameness of each opening disturbed me. The word “unnatural” rang in my head.
Yet, as bizarre and unnerving as these caves were, perhaps I could find a one suitable to camp in for at least the night. Gathering my courage, I examined the first one: too small for my needs. Leaves and blown debris littered the smooth floor, too exposed to the winds. On the floor, there was a small hole just inside the space. A low, raised lip delineated this area from the rest of the room. Above my head, a shiny gray cylinder with holes in its end stuck out of the wall. I moved carefully over the raised section, afraid to trip on it. On the floor farther in, stood an odd, white structure that took up much of the available floor space. A square block leaned against the wall, standing higher than the squat, rounded section with a flat top. Another shiny, stick-like piece protruded near the top of the structure.
Across from that I found another shiny gray bowl sticking out of the wall. It looked like a hollowed out cook pot the clans used. But, like everything here, it was perfectly smooth and not made of wood or stone or even bone. It had a small hole in the bottom of it. A silver stick came out of the surface behind this bowl and sat over its lip. On each side of the stick were two cylinders sticking up. At the far end of this space was a tunnel that looked like it led into another darkened cave. I eased back out and went to look at the next cave.
This space was twice the size of the one I just left. In the middle of the floor, balanced on four sticks, stood a thin, flat board, much like a large, uncarved register plank. Flanking that sat two identical, sharp-edged structures that resembled wide rock stairs. The first step was deep and the second, top step, was narrow. It came up to about my waist. I examined the walls of this room. Lines marred its smooth, pale walls. Like the smaller cave, I could see a passage through the back wall into another darkened room.
I moved on to the next cave. It was exactly the same inside as the first, smaller cave I had explored. The one after that looked like the larger cave with the tablet and stone step things. Skin crawling, I moved along faster, scanning each one as I passed.
In the seventh cave, something moved, causing me to root in place. I raised my spear quickly and yelled. The shadow moved at the same time. My echoed cry died out. I peered into the dim cave. I debated fleeing, but when the shadow didn't move, I grew more confident. I eased forward one step towards it. It moved as I did. I froze and so did the shape. I tried to understand what I was seeing. I licked my dry lips and edged closer.
I huffed a laugh of relief: I had been threatening my own reflection. My image peered back at me from a long rectangle hanging on the wall that looked like it contained permanently stilled water. Yet, this rectangle showed me my face with a clearness water never had. I touched the small, brown mole on my neck which until now I had only felt with my fingers. My slate-blue eyes were fringed by golden eyelashes the color of my hair and I could see each lash. I raised my hand and watched the shape move with me. I shook my head in wonder. Reaching out cautiously, I touched it. The reflected fingers met mine. I pulled my hand away quickly from the smooth, cold surface and wiped my fingers on my leather tunic.
Darkness descended quickly now. I had spent more time exploring than planned. I moved on to one of the larger caves and, upon seeing no movement, cleared a space on the floor and left my meat and furs there. I gathered wood for a fire as quickly as my crutch would allow. Groaning, I realized I would need extra wood to smoke and cure my katerri meat, but it would be dark before I could finish getting what I would need. So, I started a fire with what I had collected so far. Then, light assured, I finished foraging for nearby wood. I didn't stray far. Fire was safety.
I sat inside the strange cave and cut the katerri meat into strips to smoke. Once the meat was smoking, I scraped the hide clean. With two furs, I would finally be able to turn my hotar skin into a sleeping fur. I could make a travel pack from the katerri hide. I worked late into the night, keeping the fire going high far longer than I normally would. The flickering shadows from the fire on the cave walls kept me on edge and searching for movement. Tension made my head ache and I found myself grinding my teeth. I forced myself to try and rest. I curled into a ball, right leg stretched out and aching a bit, and fell asleep... eventually.
Kept dry by the cave and exhausted from travel, I slept far later than I planned. When I woke, I stretched carefully and looked around in the morning light. Such a strange place. Although it served my purpose for last night, it would not work for when the cold arrived. There was no way to seal the whole open wall to protect me and help retain my fire's heat. Yet, I thought that perhaps I could find some cave here which would serve my purposes. I gathered up my things and started exploring with a newfound purpose.
After losing count on the number of caves I passed, I came upon a narrow passage that led into the structure itself. I could see light at the far end of the path. Cautiously, I entered the perfectly shaped passage, staying close to the wall, and made my way inward. I walked in the darkness for a long time. I glanced back at the entrance more than once, wondering if I should continue, but each time I decided to keep moving forward.
Finally, I stepped out of the passage and into the light where a small forest was growing. The gray walls of the structure surrounded this place, towering above the branches, enclosing and protecting this strange patch of green. When I looked up, I could see the sky above. There was no roof. The suns burst from behind the clouds, dazzling my eyes. I dropped my gaze, blinking back tears. Hitching my meat-filled katerri hide higher on my shoulder, I began wandering through the unfamiliar plants and trees.
I saw red orbs hanging from some trees and on the ground below them. I picked one up. It appeared to be some kind of fruit from the tree to help spread its seeds. The bright color concerned me since those things tended to be poisonous. I wouldn't know unless I tested it. I sliced one open with my blade. Juice oozed out from the white flesh under the thin, red peel. I sniffed. It smelled sweet, similar to colgi berries. In its center lay small, black seeds. I hesitated for a moment and then I licked it.
The juice was tart and sweet at the same time. Encouraged by the taste, I took a smal
l bite. Sweetness burst across my tongue as I crunched the succulent flesh. I wanted to devour the rest of it, but forced myself to stop. I needed to wait to ensure there was no adverse effect. As hard as it was, I put the fruit down and moved on.
As I searched through the forest, I found a large gap in the far wall that led back outside the structure. It looked like a section of the wall had been torn away, leaving a jagged, gaping wound in this place. I spotted katerri tracks in the dirt. It looked to be a decent sized herd at that. I made note of that exit in my head. As I walked, I began to notice evidence of small game animals as well. If animals came here for fodder, then I could hunt. I could also gather whatever edibles that lured them here. Perhaps there would be enough to see me through the cold season. Hope rose in my chest. I still needed to find a secure place to den.
Daunted by the idea of how much firewood I would need, I continued my mantra: Shelter first. It was too easy to become sidetracked or overwhelmed. One step at a time to survive. But of course, I was rapidly becoming convinced that this strange, wondrous place might be the answer to my problems. Water would also be needed before I could commit to remaining here. Please let there be water, I prayed to the Wanderer. And if there is, help me find a way to collect it.
Walking farther in, I came across another gaping hole in the wall, larger than the first. I glanced out at the woods beyond, but remained inside, exploring. I found an intact series of gray steps, made out of the same material as the walls, which led upward. Testing each one, afraid they would crumble under me, I went up. I hoped to get a better view of this space and an idea of its size, but could only climb up to the next level. The path was damaged and would require more climbing than I could do currently.
This level opened out into a straight path, overlooking the area. I noticed several holes in the floor along the way. I tread carefully and took in the view. This warren looked to be five levels high. I suspected that there had to be other ways to reach to the top. On the walls next to me, there were rectangular shapes, larger than a man, with a stick attached to them. These appeared at consistent intervals on all the levels. A few of the rectangles were open and led into darkened caves beyond, but most were closed, sealed by that strange gray material.
I turned and examined the ones behind me along the wall. All were closed. If these rectangles led into caves as well, caves I could close shut once inside, I could make a secure campsite. I wouldn't have to worry about predators attacking while I slept and my fire could keep the space warm, providing I had a way to vent the smoke.
Scanning the area again, amazed at the vegetation that was somehow growing and potentially edible in this strange place, movement caught my eye. A herd of katerri entered through the gap in the wall, not far below from where I stood. They were feeding on that red fruit I sampled, proving it was undoubtedly safe. Was this why they were still here—a ready food supply? But if they stayed in the northern lands during the cold season, how did they survive the cold? For that matter, how did the hotar? I always accepted that the hotar stayed in the north and did not migrate, but I never really questioned how. It hadn't mattered because the clans followed the herds. Nothing made sense in this place. I found that thought funny, since everything here was rigidly, unnaturally uniform, except the plants below and the damaged structures.
As I moved to examine one of the closed rectangles, the floor beneath me squealed and shifted. I quickly stepped off of a flaky red-brown patch on the floor and moved until I found a more solid place to stand. Minding where I stepped, I ran my fingers gingerly along the seam of the rectangle. Then I placed my hand on the stick. I thought it might be a handle of sorts and pushed. Nothing. I tried pulling. It moved, sliding sideways with a hair-raising squeal, revealing a crack into a darkened room. I pulled harder. It stuck and then slid in stops and starts with difficulty. It took several more minutes of pulling before it opened enough that I would be able to slip inside.
First though, instinctively, I looked into the dimly lit cave. Light from the gap I made was all the light to see by. It was completely dark inside, or would be if I weren’t standing there at the opening. I slipped inside. It appeared exactly like the large cave I spent the night in. There were no holes in the floor or the ceiling. In the back of the room were two paths that looked like they opened into other chambers. But, without more light, I would not be able to see in there. I would need a way to carry light with me if I wanted to explore more deeply. Reluctant to go farther in, I left, but I did not bother wrestling the closing shut. Such uniformity made me shiver.
The day slipped by quickly and I decided to return to the place I had camped the night before. It might not be as secure as some of these rooms, but I craved something familiar and to escape outside these walls. I had just enough time to gather wood and before settling down for the night. Tomorrow, I would keep exploring. I needed to find a reliable supply of water.
13
By my fifth day of exploring, I still hadn't located a stream. Luckily, the steady rain gave me a temporary supply of water. Also, I found a near-perfect camp spot for the coming cold. It was a group of cave rooms, consisting of one main space that connected by a sliding opening to the inner forest, and three smaller rooms branching off of the back of the main room. One of those rooms had a small tear in the far corner of the ceiling, where the wall had been shredded. The hole was small enough to act as a vent for my fire, but large enough to let in a little light. Looking up through it, I could see the remnants of the cave above it, which had more of the outside wall ripped away. The second room in my hive of rooms was intact, but had no light source or place to vent smoke. I decided to use it for food storage. The last room was too small to be of any use. All in all, this seemed like an ideal set up.
My new camp, or den as I started calling it to myself, was situated next to the first jagged gap that led to the forest outside the structure. I would have felt more at ease if my den’s opening led directly to the outside, but it would do. I could still bring wood in from the outside forest without too much difficulty. I secured my belongings and set about gathering firewood.
As I worked, I tried to remember everything the elders told us about the Northern Lands and the killing cold. They seemed more legends than stories. No one could survive, Elder Hera had taught us. But, if no one could survive, then how did we know the cold had killed them and not something else?
I wasn't scoffing at the legends—I wouldn’t dare. Daunted by the long season before me, and my aloneness, I sought hope that I could survive and be reunited with my clan. I had to believe that the Wanderer wouldn't put me through all this if there was no way to the other side. But, the Wanderer and the Hunter would also expect me to do my part.
I started gathering firewood in the outside forest. I piled branches together and then picked up a small stack of them to tuck under my left arm as I used my walking stick with my right. The rough bark scratched my arms and side, and the branches kept trying to fall out of my grip. Beads of sweat stung my eyes as I worked. So much effort for so few branches in each trip. When I tried to carry bigger chunks of wood, I found I could only take one at a time. By midday, I barely had a pile good enough for a few nights. How would I gather enough with only one good leg and one hand? I spied the katerri skin I had saved to make as a pack. I could drag a pile of wood on it or use it as a sling for carrying. I didn't want to ruin the leather, but this was not working. I carefully slit two hand holds on either end of the fur. If this didn't work, I could cut those pieces off and use the rest to craft a pack. Or a tunic, I thought looking down at my own stained and ragged garb.
My idea worked better than I hoped. I was able to lay out the leather, fill it with wood, and then turn it into an open-ended satchel. I used the makeshift handles to carry the wood in my left hand while I used my right to manage the crutch.
That afternoon, to give myself a break, I switched to gathering all the red fruit I could find. I piled too many to count on my leather, wrapped the
m so they couldn't slip out, and heaved the whole thing to my den.
While I was loading my leather for another trip inside, I saw something small scurry to my pile. The tiny, furred creature was smaller than the fruit I was gathering. It had a twitching pink nose like a rochin and a long, furred tail like a katerri. As my shadow crossed over it, the creature skittered away and squeezed in among my food stuffs to hide. I began shifting the pile until I found the little thing huddled against a red fruit, its body quivering, chest rising and falling rapidly. I had never seen anything like it. I reached out, but it fled, disappearing into the vegetation.
As I worked, I made note of my surroundings. I itched to explore, wondering if this place contained other secrets that could aid me. But every time I considered taking a break from my gathering, I reminded myself that the cold was coming. Once my food and wood supplies were secure, I could treat myself to further exploring.
On the sixth day of my gathering routine, the handle on my carry leather tore loose, spilling my wood to the ground. I re-stacked the wood and tied the broken handle through the still usable one and managed to carry the wood into my storage area. Then, using my blade, I sliced off the torn section. I could still use that leather for other things, battered as it was becoming.