When the room outside became too black to see anything, she reached up and tugged the blanket down over the bars to hide. She considered what to do if the Tree Walkers showed up. Would they know she had the opener close by and command her to give it to them or would she be able to talk false to them? Could they even talk?
“Dad, please be okay,” she whispered.
The Haven had always made her feel safe and protected, like Dad’s love made solid. But no matter how tough the bars were, they couldn’t protect her from loneliness, or lack of food, or bad people with bows and arrows.
Staying here without Dad, even with a Haven to hide in, had become a scary thought.
What else can I do? This is home.
Every time she tried to fall asleep while frightened, she had the Tree walker nightmare. Wisp snuggled into the pillow and closed her eyes, wondering what sort of dream she’d have from falling asleep sad.
Spirit’s Whisper
-10-
Uncomfortable warmth dragged Wisp away from a dream of following Mother through a sunlit grove. Though the grey-skinned apparition hadn’t spoken a word, a powerful need to follow her had taken hold.
She’d stayed up far too late, but not by choice. Worries and fears circled her thoughts like wolves, harrying and nipping at her for hours. Based on the humid ick in the air, it had to be midday or close to it. At least she found herself still in the Haven, unharmed―untaken by Tree Walkers.
Wisp yawned and pushed herself up on all fours, yawned again, and grabbed the opener. In her half-awake daze, she fumbled and dropped it outside while trying to get it into the keyhole. Fortunately, it didn’t land so far away she couldn’t reach it. She unlocked the door, crawled out, and sat on the floor for a few minutes enjoying the cooler air.
Dad’s room remained empty. Again, she only risked peeking her head in to see if he’d returned home in the middle of the night. Disappointed and worried, she trudged outside to the outhouse, then up to the creek to grab the pouch of unsalted fish from the water.
Her routine kicked in, and without much thought, she cooked. A bit of fish plus its juices dribbled onto her foot while she ate, so she pulled her leg up and licked the spot, not wanting to waste any food. She smacked her lips at the faint dirt flavor, and noted the clean spot an inch behind her big toe. It had been about a month since Dad prepared a bath for her, but she usually only had them once every three or so. Warming the water used up a lot of wood. The metal basin sat outside behind the cabin over the fire pit, which always made her feel like a giant tuber being put in a soup whenever she took a bath.
“Bleh.” She spat a few times to the side, regretting tongue-to-foot contact.
She rinsed the plate and pan off, set them on the shelf, and wound up staring at the door to Dad’s room. Out of nowhere, a sense of inspiration and courage came on. She grabbed the rifle and stormed out the door, heading back up the hill to where the monster got Dad.
Upon reaching the spot, she crouched in the foliage nearby on one knee. After clicking the scope up into position, she peered through it down the length of the rutty tracks. The rifle let her visually follow the trail for a long distance, but failed to reveal any trace of Dad or the monster that took him away.
Tickling drew her attention to her foot, at a red-and-black caterpillar crawling over her toes. Firepillar! She went still, fearful the long hairs on its back would sting her. One thing she did know, red or bright colors meant danger. When the annoying thing decided to stop and sun itself on her instep, she gingerly leaned to the side to grab a twig, which she used to nudge the tiny beastie into motion. It undulated, a rippling sheen moving across its hairs, and made its way back onto the dirt. Wisp examined her surroundings before moving, so she didn’t step on another one. Some bugs like that had poison all over them, and stepping on them could hurt a lot. She didn’t know if it would be worse than an angry black wasp, but having her foot blow up to the size of Dad’s fist for a couple days wasn’t something she wanted to go through ever again.
The wasp sting had left a small scar on the underside of her second toe, but after a few weeks, her foot had shrunk back to normal. She hurried away from the caterpillar area and followed the ruts for a little while, occasionally stopping to use the scope to look ahead. It soon became obvious that any attempt to follow this monster wouldn’t be something she could do in a single day and remain able to go home at night.
How much trouble will I get in for leaving home?
She bit her lip and walked backward a few steps. If Dad had simply gone hunting, she’d already be in a heap of trouble for being outside the Haven. If he caught her outside the cabin too, he’d probably punish her. As much as she could remember, he’d only punished her once, a long time ago. She might’ve been only five at the time, and she faintly remembered that she’d decided not to go to sleep when told and ran away when he’d tried to put her in the Haven, racing around and around the cabin, making him chase her. To punish her, he went a whole week without reading her stories before sleep. He’d gotten cross with her one other time when she’d been ten. She’d walked outside to use the outhouse without telling him. He hadn’t punished her for it, but he did threaten to make her sleep outside the Haven for one night if she wanted the Tree Walkers to get her. She’d been so terrified at the thought, she’d begged him with tears in her eyes to lock her in at night.
Two years after the fact, she doubted he would have really done that and only wanted to scare her. Not since his biggest rule said she always had to be inside the Haven at night. He loved her too much to risk letting the Tree Walkers get her.
And… that’s why she had to help him. Even if it meant breaking all his rules.
However, she had to be sure.
Wisp jogged back toward the cabin, drifting into the woods away from the tracks at the temptation of a huge burdock. She hadn’t eaten that in a while, and though the leaves had a bitter flavor, she could cook them right. Boiling with a water change took the ick right out of them and made them yummy.
Carrying an armload of burdock leaves, she hurried back to the cabin, the rifle bumping her in the back the whole way. She ran to the nearby creek to fill a pot, and set water to boil before once more approaching the door to the Mother Shrine.
She knocked twice, soft. “Hello, Mother.”
No reply came from inside.
Eyes on the floor, she pushed the door open and stepped in. Whenever the days had a lot of warmth, like today, the unhappy smell in the room got worse. It swirled with the pinesap, strong to the point she couldn’t tell which fragrance overpowered the other. She covered her mouth and coughed.
“Please help me, Mother.” Wisp shuffled over and knelt in front of the chair. “I want to go help Dad, but I don’t know if he would be upset with me for leaving the cabin.”
Mother said nothing.
Wisp leaned forward and wrapped her arms around Mother’s legs, her forehead pressed to bony knees. “Please, Mother. Tell me what to do.” She clung to the shrine, calling out with her deepest inner sense, begging Mother to reach out to her from the Other Place. The burble of boiling water eventually broke the silence. “Excuse me, Mother. I’ll be right back. The water’s ready.”
Wisp released her embrace and scooted back before standing and walking past the door into the main room. She dropped the burdock leaves in the water and poked at them with the cooking knife for a little while before feeling satisfied that they’d begun cooking.
Upon returning to the shrine, she looked left and right at the white plastic sheets covering the windows.
“Oh… maybe you can’t see outside.”
Dad had attached thick rectangles of plastic to wooden frames, and hung them over the windows on both sides. Wisp approached the window on the right, the back face of the cabin, and tugged at it until she noticed the hooks holding the shade up. She had never asked Dad why he put them over the windows, but figured he wanted to protect Mother from strong sunlight. Unfortunately, because of t
hem, Mother couldn’t see outside to understand what had happened to Dad. Maybe if she opened the window all the way, she could see the tracks from the Other Place and know what to tell her.
Up on tiptoe, she grabbed the frame and lifted it off the hooks. A momentary puff of wind pushed her back a half step and blew all the dust from Mother’s hair. Wisp set the frame down, leaning it against the wall by the window, and returned to kneel in front of the shrine.
“There. Now you can see. Out behind the house, up the hill. A hundred steps or so away. The monster’s tracks, where Dad dropped his rifle.”
Mother didn’t say anything.
Wisp gazed up at her from the floor, watching her long, brown hair drift in the occasional breeze the unblocked window let in.
Maybe it takes time?
“I need to finish cooking. I’ll be right back.”
Wisp stood and walked back out to the fire. She tossed a slab of fish in the pan and set it over the flames before carrying the burdock pot outside and straining the boiling water off into the dirt. She refilled the pot from the jug and put it back in the fireplace. It didn’t take long for the fish to cook, so it had to wait while the second boil on the burdock finished.
She sat right by the fireplace and her little table with the six-inch legs to eat, not bothering to crawl back into the Haven.
Full, she rinsed off the dishes and walked back to the shrine.
At the door, she froze stock still, staring at Mother.
Her left arm had swung out to the side, pointing at the window. All the flowers that had been in a ring around the chair lay scattered off away from the opening. Wisp froze in awe, gazing into the empty eye sockets of the dried-out woman, slumped somewhat to the side. Some great blast of energy had to have come through from the Other Place to do that, probably when she made her body move.
“Mother?”
A strong breeze blew in the window, again tossing Mother’s hair about and stirring up a whorl of dust at the back of the room. Mother’s left arm wobbled, emphatically pointing at the window.
Wisp sucked a hard breath in her nose, filling her lungs with confidence and determination. “I understand, Mother. I must go find him.”
Mother didn’t say anything.
“Should I put the window back? Or do you like it open?”
For a little while, Mother did nothing, but before Wisp gave up on waiting, the dry body sagged more to the left and her pointing arm fell slack.
“Yes, Mother,” said Wisp. “Right away.”
She ran to the window, grabbed the frame, and secured the thick plastic back in place, making the room once again dim and sacred. Wisp helped Mother sit up straight and balanced her arms on the armrests. She hummed merrily to herself while collecting all the scraps of flower petals, stems, and leaves back into a circle around the chair.
Mother’s head lolled to the right with a soft crunch.
“Gah!” Wisp gasped, momentarily terrified at seeing a shrine move. “I’m sorry! I’ll go right now!”
She scrambled to her feet and rushed out into the cabin, looking around while her heart pounded. Mother came close to being angry with her for wasting time collecting flowers while Dad needed her. So dumb! Why did I do that! She grabbed the rifle from atop the Haven and spun to face the door.
“I’m coming, Dad.”
No Haven’s Guard
-11-
Mother’s encouragement had chased away the last of her doubts.
Wisp no longer believed she would get in trouble, but that didn’t mean she’d gotten over her fears. Still, with Mother keeping an eye on her from the Other Side, she had to trust that she’d be okay. She got halfway to the door before she stopped and peered down at the rifle in her hands.
“I’m going to need more than this.”
She set the rifle on the worktable for the moment, and grabbed Dad’s small backpack from the wall. This trip could be long, so she decided to take important things. One of the ferro rods to start cook fires, a file to strike it on, some kindling, twine, the jar of yarrow powder in case she cut herself, her favorite bowl-shaped pan, and one deeper pot, plus a small blanket. Next, she took two more magazines for the rifle off Dad’s shelf (all he had) and added them to the bag, as well as three for the pistol. Catching herself, she doubled back to the supply shelf and stuffed a small coil of rope in the backpack, since Dad thought no one should ever leave home without a bundle of rope. Exactly why, she didn’t know, but better not to tempt bad luck. While there, she spotted the two-canteen belt she’d worn for the trip, and decided to put it on too.
A ‘grab and wiggle’ check of the pistol confirmed it snug on her hip. The knife hung secure against her left thigh. Wisp slipped her arms into the backpack straps and snugged it tight. Dad always carried it on one shoulder, but she wasn’t quite big enough for that. Last, she picked up the rifle and crossed the room back to the shrine.
Mother remained as she had been, sitting straight, her head lolled to one side.
“I’m going to be far from your shrine, but I know you will protect me from the Tree Walkers, since you told me to go find Dad.”
Mother didn’t say a word.
She shivered at the brief mental image of Mother’s head shifting. Despite loving Mother, watching a shrine move had been highly disturbing. She scurried away from the room before getting in any more trouble, and jogged outside. Since Dad had the opener for the front door, she couldn’t lock the cabin without being in it, so she had to hope no one found it before she came home. Then again, in twelve years, she had seen only one other person besides Dad, and that marauder had been pretty far away from here.
Still charged with the scare of watching Mother’s head move, Wisp hurried up the hill toward the strange tracks, stopping at the creek long enough to fill the canteens and drink her fill. One good thing, being deep and obvious, the ruts hadn’t faded much in the few days since Dad disappeared. She decided to walk in the track since the inclined edges let her feel her way along while keeping her eyes on the forest for danger. The ruts also offered a clear path of soft dirt to walk on without many rocks to hurt her feet.
Minutes stretched into hours. When she got thirsty, she veered off into the woods to search for a stream, deciding to save the canteens in case she wandered far away from running water. Within minutes, her ears led her to a tiny brook. After a quick check around for danger, she crouched at the edge and scooped handfuls of water. Once she drank her fill, she rested a little while before getting up and once again following the tracks.
Whatever beast made them had to drag itself along the ground like a huge slug, considering the marks formed a continuous line, unlike footprints. The trails vanished in places, picking back up soon after. A little poking with her toe confirmed her belief that the ground had been too hard in those spots for the creature’s feet to mark it. Comparing her shallow footprints to the inches-deep ruts the monster left behind made her think it weighed a lot.
I really don’t want to let it see me. But, it’s probably really slow, so I could outrun it.
By late afternoon, she caught sight of a spattering of dark red against the green at eye level. She slowed to a stop by a four-foot tall plant with leaves shaped like notched arrowheads and clusters of tiny white flowers. Some of the leaves had dark red spots or lines smeared on them.
“Ninebark. Not edible,” said Wisp, as if Dad stood behind her. “The roots can be boiled to make a pain poultice.”
She spit on her finger and rubbed it over the dark spot, which liquefied into blood. It didn’t appear to be a large amount, but the way it spattered reminded her of what water looked like on the floor when she swung her hands to dry them. A bleeding person probably ran by really fast.
“I bet Dad shot the monster and tracked it. Maybe he got lost.”
She sighed and stared down at Dad’s rifle in her hands. He didn’t shoot it. All the bullets are still here.
“Okay, he mashed it in the nose.”
Her lip
quivered and tears gathered at the corners of her eyes. It couldn’t be Dad’s blood on those leaves. It had to be the monster’s, or the people who rode it. Thinking that a monster carried Dad off frightened her in a way the Tree Walkers never had. She’d spotted them sometimes, but they’d been well off in the forest, and always at night, surrounded by thick shadows. What the Tree Walkers would do to her had always been a question of imagination, since Dad never gave her any direct answer to that question. However, his going missing provided a concrete, real problem. Bears took fish into the woods and she didn’t think those fish lasted long after that.
Worry built and built until she found herself standing there crying. It took her a minute to get herself under control and sniffle back the sobs to calm.
“No… Mother told me to go. She wouldn’t have if Dad didn’t need help.” She hefted the rifle up so she could wipe her tears on her forearms. “I will find him.”
Wisp adjusted the backpack’s weight, then fussed at the canteens above her butt. Tired of holding the heavy rifle, she slung it over her right shoulder and gripped the strap in one hand, her left arm swinging free at her side. She groaned under her load, but trudged onward. If she needed the rifle fast, she’d be in trouble, but her arms had had enough. Even if she ran out of bullets, the huge gun weighed so much she could whack a monster over the head with it and probably still send it to the Other Place.
Step by step, hour after hour, she walked along the mysterious rut. Here and there, she spotted signs of blood on the understory plants, but always to the right of the tracks. Fatigue set in, and she spent a while staring down at her toes sinking into the dirt with each step. Her shoulders hurt from the backpack straps and she’d become quite hungry.
The Forest Beyond the Earth Page 9