Chapter 4: Red Claw
Mark and Walking Stone made good time with Mark leading the way. Using his trekking poles Mark twice discovered hidden crevices in the ice sheet in time to avoid disaster. Fortunately they had reached the northern shadow of Giants' Rest Mountain, where the icepack was more solid and the melting snow wasn't blindingly bright due to reflected sunlight. This side of the Mountain was covered in ice that towered above them to their left like a gigantic frozen waterfall.
Even in the shade walking atop ice, at human-level the July afternoon was close to fifty degrees and too warm for Walking Stone to sustain motion for longer than several minutes at a time. The Stone-Coat frequently vented hissing steam from deep within his radiation powered body, and paused to take in ice cold water. Every several minutes he needed to also lay down on the ice to further cool himself for a minute or two. As a result their net speed across the ice was hardly more than a mile an hour.
"GREETINGS CLAN BROTHER," came the thought from Red Claw, Mark's long-time friend.
Mark looked up in the direction of the thought and saw the big snowy owl flying towards him from the direction of distant Green Mountain. Its wide wings beat steadily but silently, carrying it swiftly across the wide expanse of white that separated Green Mountain from Giants' Rest Mountain. Mark was disappointed to note that the owl carried no dinner in its talons. "NO FOOD?"
"NO FOOD," the owl confirmed, as it landed atop a small rock outcropping nearby and studied Mark and his Stone-Coat companion with big sharp eyes. "ALL PREY FLEE ATTACKING BLACK THINGS."
"What? What attacking black things?" Mark remarked aloud.
"The bird is likely referring to the giant black flies that now attack the Reservation area," stated Walking Stone.
"The Reservation is being attacked?"
"Yes," stated the Stone-Coat. "I monitor Stone-Coat electronic signals that indicate an attack of thousands of giant flies. The attack began an hour ago."
"An hour ago?" Mark sputtered. "Why didn't you tell me?"
"The information was judged not to be relevant to this quest. The flies focus on sunny areas where warm-life is concentrated. We have moved into the shade of the Mountain where the flies are far less likely to come."
"Not relevant? My family and friends are on the Reservation! Of course it's relevant!"
"No humans have been killed," reported Walking Stone. "A few have been injured. None of your family is injured. This quest has not been compromised."
"Thank Tharuhyawa:ku!" said Mark.
"You say that sometimes," noted Walking Stone, "even though you sometimes also state that you do not believe in gods, including the Mohawk god Sky-Holder who you have just thanked. Why do you thank a god who you do not believe exists?"
"It's just an old saying," Mark explained. "Mom says it sometimes so I say it sometimes when I feel relieved. Besides, maybe Sky-Holder does exist; what do I know about it?"
"Gods do not exist," stated the Stone-Coat bluntly. "There is no objective evidence of them, merely supposition and wishful thinking driven by human emotional needs."
"And there will be no objective evidence of us unless we get going," Mark retorted. "We're already more than two hours behind my schedule."
"What schedule?" asked the Stone-Coat.
"The schedule that is part of my plan for Green Mountain."
"What plan for Green Mountain?" asked the Stone-Coat. "You have thus far been logically leading us to colder shaded areas north of Giant's Rest Mountain which favor my mobility. I had assumed that much to be your plan. You have not indicated additional planning."
"Coming here is only the first part of my plan," admitted Mark, "but it has nothing to do with your mobility; it has to do with my mobility. I made my plans assuming you wouldn't be with me. I assumed I would be traveling somewhat faster, even when considering rest periods needed due to backpack carrying."
"As that is no longer true perhaps your plan should be reviewed and reconsidered," said Walking Stone.
"Yes, and as now that the quest is for both of us we should make our plans together. I'm sorry Walking Stone; I guess I'm still used to you being merely an observer that follows me around."
"Understood. What is your baseline plan?" asked the Stone Coat.
"I plan to go to Green Mountain. Giants' Rest Mountain is hunted out, and Green Mountain is the closest peak that still has a forest with wild animals and a trout stream with fish. I have food in my backpack for only today and after that I have to find more food. I planned to camp on the sunny side of Green Mountain for two weeks with Red Claw, with him and me hunting and fishing for food."
"Logical," admitted Walking Stone. "Why then have we hiked to the north side of Giants' Rest Mountain and not directly towards Green Mountain?"
"Crossing the valley ice sheet directly would be suicide, the summer melting ice surface is too infirm," Mark explained. "I seek a Stone-Coat trail across the ice."
"Excellent plan," agreed Walking Stone. "Your young and small warm-life brain functions with surprising adequacy. But some small changes to your plan may become necessary. I will lose most mobility on the warm sunny side of Green Mountain."
"Oh!" said Mark. "I hadn't planned for that! We'll have to stay near the edge where ice meets rock, I suppose."
"Agreed," said Walking Stone. "You need to stay warm and I need to stay cold without benefit of convenient cooling stations. It presents an interesting problem for which you have already perhaps computed the optimum solution. We will apparently need to stay near the border where ice meets rock."
"Agreed," said Mark. "Now let's get going!"
"Squawk!" agreed the owl, as after a few flaps of its wings it settled comfortably atop Walking Stone's head for a free ride. The owl secured itself by firmly grasping each of the Stone-Coat's small diamond ears with its talons.
As he had done several times in years past Walking Stone estimated the impact of the extra weight, the warmth of the bird, and the shading of the sun it provided, and decided that carrying the flying warm creature was acceptable.
****
Global Warming Fun 4: They Taste Like Chicken Page 6