The Second Bell

by Gabriela Houston

  The cold air pinched Salka’s cheeks and she felt the skin on her face tingle. She pulled her scarf a bit higher and wiped her eyes. She felt a rush of shame for what her banishment would end up costing her mother, both in their saved rations and in the absence of Salka’s help in the winter months.

  Salka looked up. She was still close to the village, and the sparse canopy of the familiar pines allowed some rays from the cooling sun to bring a memory of warmth to her face. A shriek from Munu admonished her to keep up the pace. She inspected the moss on the trees’ bark and corrected her course. To get to the pass she would have to travel down the Green Sister and then move along the path barely protruding off the side of a craggy cliff. There she would finally face the Grim Sister, the twin peak to the home of the strigas.

  After a few hours of steady walking, she heard a rustle in the bushes some way ahead. She took her sling out of the bag, and picked up a small rock, weighing it briefly in her palm. A hare burst from the bushes. Munu swooped down with a piercing shriek, scaring the animal towards Salka and her sling.

  She did not miss.

  It was only early afternoon, but the grey sky predicted an early night. Munu landed on a branch next to her and hopped excitedly, awaiting his reward. He snorted angrily when he saw her stow their catch away. “You will have your share, Munu,” Salka said with a smile. “You just have to wait till we set up camp.” She tried to stroke his head, but he hopped away, clearly not in an affectionate mood.

  As Salka started walking again he perched on her shoulder but was promptly shaken off. “Oh no, you don’t!” she said. “I have enough to carry here without you weighing me down as well. Make yourself useful and fly ahead, check the road is safe.”

  He did so quickly, but not without a sharp peck on Salka’s shoulder first.

  Salka kept walking, enjoying the rhythm of it. She turned her toes slightly inwards as she’d been taught, spreading her weight more evenly and allowing her to walk sure-footed for longer. The scarf on her head fell briefly over her eyes and she pushed it up impatiently. It was a pleasant day despite the chill. She could be either scared or excited and she made a concerted effort for the latter, and allowed herself to enjoy the thrill of the adventure.

  Suddenly she heard a piercing shriek and felt the air rush by her cheek as Munu swooped down next to her, so close he brushed against her face with the tip of his wing as he passed. With a gasp of surprise, she spun around and froze when she saw what Munu was after.

  Barely five paces behind Salka stood a huge brown bear, its ears pricked up and its eyes fixed on her. This was not a bear startled by an unwary traveler. This was a hungry animal certain of the kill. It must have been stalking her for a while and she hadn’t even noticed.

  Munu’s claws ripped across the bear’s snout, provoking a roar which shook Salka out of her dazed state. She spun around and ran.

  Stupid, stupid, stupid. She’d been brought up in bear country and yet she’d walked around, lost in her thoughts, without a care for what might have been waiting in the forest. Like some prey. Like some helpless thing that had no business being in the Heyne Mountains. Had no business being alive at all.

  If Munu could distract the bear for long enough, perhaps she could get away. As she ran, Salka resisted the urge to look behind her, though she heard the bear’s angry roars coupled with Munu’s squawks. She reached into her pack and threw the hare they’d caught to the ground. A bear could out-run her, out-climb her, out-swim her. If she was lucky it might be satisfied with the hare and leave the larger prey be.

  A stitch in her side slowed her down but she pushed through the pain. The trees whizzed past, the purply red of the evening woods, as she heard nothing but her breathing and the rhythmic jingling of the sack on her back.

  She tripped on a high root and fell on her face. She scrambled up and leaned against a tree, panting, trying to listen for the bear over the ringing of own heartbeats. She pushed the hood of her cloak back as hot blood rushed into her cheeks and beads of perspiration began to form on her forehead. She was scared and thirsty and terrified for Munu.

  There was nothing to do but press ahead. By her estimation, she’d been running in roughly the right direction and there should be a stream at some point soon. She’d approach the pass from the east instead of west. It would add to her journey, but there was no helping it. She sighed. Munu was still not back, and while she wanted to wait for him, that might also mean waiting for the bear.

  Salka walked for a while longer. It was already mid-afternoon, with barely one hour of sunlight left. Setting up camp was preferable to walking in the dark, though she wished she could have put more distance between herself and the bear. She set her bag to the side and went looking for kindling. She wrapped a rope to her food pack and stashed all her provisions inside, including the cheese necklaces. Then she took a jar of herb ointment from her pocket and rubbed it on her clothes and on the outside of the food pack before hanging them off a nearby tree. The ointment, a gift from Trina, obscured the smell of the food, so that with a bit of luck even the bear’s sensitive nostrils wouldn’t be able to pick up its scent.

  Then Salka found a bit of ground that was safely away from the trees, and prepared to build two fires. She set some extra wood in between the fires and ripped a strip of cloth from one of her two spare shirts to prepare a torch. She winced as the fabric ripped and thought of the time it took to make it, but should she need to move in the night, a torch would be of more use to her than spare clothing. She lit the first of the fires and paused for a moment, mesmerized by the flames.

  In spite of the crisp autumn air, she felt cozy in her new cloak. She ran her fingers over its even weave and choked back the tears. For the first time she was truly alone.

  She wrapped the cloak around her knees, for comfort as much as for the warmth. Her boots were wet, but she couldn’t risk taking them off. She shuffled closer to the fire and put her feet as close to it as she could without scorching them. The grey hour loomed heavy as the evening crept on, the air sparkled with the chill of a winter that was not to be delayed for much longer. Just before the day finally gave up its struggle with the night, Salka rose up and set the second bonfire ablaze, hoping it would be enough. Fires were generally good at keeping the predators away, as long as you weren’t so stupid as to cook meat over them.

  Salka got little sleep that night, waking at every distant hoot, screech, and chirp. Every time she did, she added wood to the fire to keep the flames high and the shadows farther.

  Dawn found her curled up in her cloak, with the sides of her face crusted over and puffy from tears. She sat up and rubbed her eyes. Half asleep, she brought her fingers to her lips to whistle, but there was no Munu to answer her. Her lip trembled, and she bit it hard before it drew another sob out of her.

  She got up, unwillingly, as the cold of the morning pushed away the relative warmth of the inside of her cloak. She pulled her things down from the tree and tied a makeshift torch to the side of her bag. She pulled out a hard biscuit wrapped in cloth and nibbled on it as she walked, letting the chilly sun and the moss growing on the side of the trees guide her.

  Another thirsty, tired day passed, and Salka felt a thrill when she finally heard the welcome sound of water ahead. She followed it and had a moment’s hesitation as she saw the steep sides of the gorge through which the stream flowed, with barely enough space for her to descend to fill her waterskins. She sat down on the mossy ground and considered her options. Looking for an easier descent was possible, but it would take time and she was loathe to spend another night in the forest. Her best bet was to use the young trees to the side of the stream as a makeshift ladder. She put her pack and her cloak on the ground, slung the waterskin’s strap across her back and made her way down to the stream.

  After she climbed about an arm’s distance down, a rustling made her look up. The bear’s soot-black eyes looked down at her with interest. Salka froze.

  The animal made an exploratory swi
pe at Salka with its paw. It was inches away from her head, and nearly slipped as the soft soil crumbled under its weight. It let out an annoyed groan. The bear was only a yard or so above her, but the steep side of the gorge combined with the bear’s weight made it difficult for it to reach her.

  She could see the deep gash across the bear’s nose, courtesy of Munu’s talons, though she felt no satisfaction. Munu was not here now and the first blood meant little in the Heyne Mountains. The fight was over drawing the last blood, and she wouldn’t let it be hers.

  She tried to lower herself farther, eliciting an outraged huff and a growl from the bear; a strange set of noises which sounded almost conversational. Like a request. A plea. If she’d only be reasonable, it wouldn’t have to be hungry that night…

  The bear reached down again, trying to catch Salka as if she were a fish swimming down the river. She ducked, narrowly avoiding the claws. Her foot felt for another tree root to step on, to lower her farther away from the bear. The animal growled, and gave another swipe, leaning forward to reach Salka’s hand. She yelped as one of the long claws grazed her skin making her let go of her handhold, and lose her balance.

  She tumbled down, the branches scratching her painfully on the way. She screamed when her back made contact with the icy stream. It was so cold she thought her hearts would stop as the clear water closed over her eyes.

  The stream wasn’t deep but the stones beneath were slippery, and it took a moment before Salka could find her footing. She crawled onto the other side of the stream, panting and spluttering loudly. She looked up and saw the bear staring at her.

  “Go! Just go!” Salka tried to holler, but only a whisper came out.

  As Salka clung to the side of the gorge, she watched helplessly as the bear tore through her possessions, gorging on the hard-won dried meats and cheeses inside the pack. After it was satisfied that nothing more of interest was to be found inside, it looked down again and watched Salka for a while. Eventually, either judging her too troublesome or the descent too difficult, the bear got up and wandered off in search of an easier meal.

  It was a while before Salka managed to build up the courage to make her way back to what remained of her once neatly packed provisions. The bag was torn open, and there was little food left untouched. Her hands grown blue with the cold. Salka took her drenched shirt off, its rough fabric sticking to her skin. She took off the wet cheese necklaces and wrapped them in a dry cloth, carefully placing them inside the ripped pack. She took out both her spare shirts, and put the undamaged one on first, with the torn one on top, before wrapping her cloak over her shoulders. She looked around for some wood, but there was not much around. She had to make do with some pine boughs, which she judged too full of sap to burn well.

  It took her a moment to find her flint box that had been thrown into the deep moss, and her teeth were chattering by the time she saw it. She carefully lit the fire and blew on the embers till the branches caught flame. Only then did she take off her sodden trousers and boots, trying to heat up her feet by the fire.

  She looked back through what remained of her pack. The bear had left some of the salted fish, but the biscuits and the meat were gone. The animal was fat with the autumn’s plenty and it must have judged her easy enough prey to even bother following her. Salka ran her fingers through her hair, the curls quickly crusting over with frost. She would have to rely on her traps far more than she had expected, and it was not easy hunting by the pass.

  She huddled by the fire, trying to make herself small, and cried. She thought of the blankets her mother had bartered away for the biscuits and the meat cured over the short summer months. All gone. Something fell on her shoulder and made her look up. Her tear-wet eyes focused on Munu, sitting on a branch directly above her head.

  “Munu!”

  He cocked his head to the side and flew down onto her outstretched arm. The fear and the loneliness hit her like a wave and she sobbed for a long time, nuzzling her face in the bird’s feathers. Munu let her hold him for a while, before he gently pushed at her shoulder with his beak. He hopped onto the ground and inspected Salka’s bag. He gave out a disapproving snort and looked at Salka with annoyance, as if to reprimand her for losing both the rabbit and the meat. Salka started crying again, and he hopped towards her and sat in her lap. She pulled some pine boughs over them until she could barely see from between the branches and stayed dangerously close to the fire. She and Munu stayed like this for a long while, as the fire crackled and danced in front of them.

  Salka fell into an uncomfortable, fitful sleep.

  As the early morning light fell on Salka’s face, she shifted, some of the boughs falling off in the process, letting in more of the cold air. She reached out and patted her trousers. They weren’t completely dry, but damp wool would be better than nothing at all. Her shoes were another matter; she bit her lip as she pulled them onto her feet, the sodden leather squeaking over her skin.

  Her stomach rumbled. Salka got up and looked around for some deadwood. Using her knife, she pried open a rotten tree trunk and picked up the termites inside. She chewed them slowly, ignoring the sickening crunch as she crushed them between her teeth. The insects and some dandelion roots made a less-than-satisfying meal, but she was grateful for even that much.

  She walked for the better part of the day before she finally reached the Windry Pass. She had never been there before, and the sight impressed her in spite of her cold feet and empty belly. The pass was a natural rock bridge between the two Sister Mountains: the Green Sister and the Grim Sister, a giant that towered over the other mountains. The top was always covered in snow even as the summer warmed its lower slopes.

  A windowless log hut with a moss-covered roof huddled against the rocks, just over a hundred yards or so from the bridge and the cliff. It was a sad dwelling, but Salka felt she had never seen one quite as welcoming. She rushed towards it, with Munu circling above her.

  She gingerly opened the door, and a stream of dust fell from the ancient frame. Munu flew in first and hopped onto what must have been the sleeping nook of whoever had been here last. Although Alma said it was sometimes used during summer herding, clearly the warmer weather discouraged any upkeep efforts.

  The bed was an elevated platform of wood, moss and animal skins, though most of what had once made it comfortable had since rotted away. There was a fireplace, instead of the fire pit Salka was used to, with a chimney of slate and mud. Salka picked through the old bedding for whatever could be used as kindling and set to work by the fireplace.

  There was a terrible draft, and she knew she would have to make some quick, rudimentary repairs, before the winter set in properly. She took out the damp cheese necklaces and hung them on a wall by the fire. Then she picked up a seemingly functional bucket from the corner and went out to collect some snow for melting.

  On the way back, she collected some moss and pine boughs, dragging them behind her with some effort. Once back inside she shoved the moss into the worst of the holes and settled herself on the branches. She put a small piece of dry fish in the water as it came to a boil, and flavored the broth with pine needles. Munu watched her skeptically.

  Salka let him out to do his own hunting, and he vanished with a joyful screech.

  She stretched out and covered herself with her cloak, watching her meal as it cooked on the fire. It was the most comfortable she’d been since she left her mother’s house. She drifted off as she thought of the traps she would set the next day, and the small improvements she could make to the hut, while outside the snow began to fall.

  CHAPTER 11

  Salka slept deeply that first night. In the absence of a window, she didn’t wake until well into the mid-morning. Munu had returned in the night, his talons stained with blood, and she slept with her falcon at her side.

  In the end, the impatient bird nipped at her leg, and so she dragged herself, groggy, from underneath the pine boughs. The rotten branches and wool did not make for a long-lasting fir
e, and the hut was cold when she woke up. Salka shivered, and regretted not bringing in more kindling the night before. She broke off a little of the cheese from one of the necklaces and soaked it in cold water. It would be a while before she could eat it, so she decided to go out to get acquainted with her new home.

  She wrapped the cloak around her shoulders and opened the door, letting Munu fly out as she did so. She paused for a moment and closed the door again. Overnight, easily a foot worth of snow had piled up on the pass. Salka closed her eyes, trying not to panic. She had little food and no wood for the fire. She took a deep breath and opened the door again. She bent down and picked up a handful of snow. She closed her fist, and the wet snow stuck together. There was no helping it. She had to collect the kindling first before it was all soaked through. She sighed and walked towards the woods.

  It was slow work, as she had to go back to the hut often, not being able to carry much at a time. The snow stuck to her shoes making her feel as if she was walking on two wet pillows. Her feet were soon too cold to continue, so she went back in and started a fire again. After a moment’s thought, she pulled out some of the moss she had stuck in the wall gaps the day before and set it aside to stuff in her shoes the next time she had to go out. She set some supple green twigs she had cut down in the woods in front of her, looping and tying them into two large woven hoops. She looked at the finished product and smiled. They would do quite nicely as snowshoes.

  A screech by the door announced the return of Munu. He hopped closer to Salka and proudly dropped what Salka suspected to be mouse intestines in front of her, before beginning his fastidious grooming ritual. The blood splattered around his chest suggested it was not the first capture of the day. Salka winced at the gruesome offering but tossed it in her pot anyway. She knew she should be grateful, even for that much, and she stroked Munu’s head with affection

  While her shoes were drying by the fire, Salka took some of the branches she had dragged into the hut and began to cut them to size. There would be fish in the stream, and she decided she would make up a trap for them before the day was done. She paused for a moment, then with a stick she drew a few lines in the dust on the floor. Maladia had explained to her a few times how to make an obstruction trap, but Salka, not known for her fondness for fish, never expected to actually have to make one. She understood the basic concept though, and was confident she could recreate it.