Daywards

by Anthony Eaton

  ‘Shi! That’s hot!’

  ‘Watch your language!’

  ‘Sorry.’

  Once the food had cooled, she tucked in, savouring every mouthful as it settled in her stomach, a solid, warm lump. After they’d finished, she and Jaran cleaned up quickly in a nearby stream. As they doused the fire, their father glanced up at the brightening sky.

  ‘We should get moving. Probably a couple of hours until we gotta find some shelter for me. Plenty of time.’

  ‘For what?’

  ‘To get where we’re going.’

  Dara and Jaran glanced at one another. There was no point asking where he was leading them. They knew Gaari too well to expect an answer. They recovered their hunting gear and fell easily back into the walking routine, sliding through the wakening forest. As the sun hit the horizon and warm hazy light flooded through the trees, a chorus of life, insects and frogs and birds and a thousand other creatures, burst into morning song and a shiver ran up through Dara from the ground, as though out of the earth itself. She grinned.

  ‘What are you so happy about?’ asked Jaran, breaking the silence-while-walking rule.

  Dara shrugged. ‘Everything.’

  Her brother nodded, understanding. The air was crisp on their tongues, they were hiking through new and unexplored territory with their father, and the day ahead promised to be magnificent. Overhead, the sky had already brightened from darkness into the deep, perfect blue of the dayvault, broken only by the black silhouettes of a couple of birds, soaring on invisible currents of warm air, curving up from the black granite boulder formations that rose out of the forest.

  From the south, ahead of them, a shifting breeze picked up slightly and Dara tasted the air thoughtfully.

  ‘We’re going to the saltwater, aren’t we?’ she announced, and Gaari glanced down at her approvingly.

  ‘Yeah. Should get there late today.’ He pointed at the boulders towards which they were slowly moving. ‘We’ll reach the rocks in an hour or so and there’s plenty of shelter there for me. Then this afternoon we’ll keep heading south, spend the night camped at the saltwater and head back to the rocks early tomorrow. How’d you know?’

  ‘Salty air.’

  ‘Good.’

  Beside her, Jaran snorted, his eyes narrowing briefly in annoyance before he returned his focus back onto the forest with new intensity. A couple of moments later he whirled and sent his spear flying hard into a nearby thicket. There followed a crash and a loud thrashing which set the branches of the thicket whipping back and forth.

  ‘Go!’ Gaari commanded, but it was unnecessary, because Jaran was already in motion, halfway to the bush, his knife in hand. By the time he reached it, the frenzied thrashing was already slowing, and he was able to reach in and grab the long, muscular tail of the hopper he’d speared. He hauled at it, trying to drag it into the open where he could complete the kill, but right away it was a struggle.

  ‘Dad …’ He shot a worried glance back over his shoulder towards his father, but Gaari shook his head, his face impassive.

  ‘You speared it. You finish it.’

  Several times the hopper managed to snatch its tail from Jaran’s grasp and the thrashing continued anew, but finally it slowed enough that, with much groaning and straining, Jaran was able to recover the wounded animal.

  It was a big bull hopper, one of the largest Dara had ever seen. Had it been standing, it would easily have dwarfed both her and Jaran. Its tail was longer than their father’s arms and at its base probably twice as thick. Jaran pulled it out warily, avoiding the powerful hindlegs with their long, hooked claws, which even now could still deliver a dangerously powerful blow if he wasn’t careful.

  His spear had caught the animal cleanly through its shoulder and a thick trail of blood flowed from it and into the earth. Watching her brother pull the dying animal from its cover, Dara suppressed a shudder. She’d grown up hunting, but some kills still shook her up. She closed her eyes against the gruesome spectacle, but she could still feel it – the hot pulse of the hopper’s lifeblood soaking into the warming earth.

  After what seemed an age, Jaran leaned down and drew his knife across the hopper’s throat in one quick slash, putting the beast out of its misery. Then he turned to face his father and sister, his face triumphant.

  ‘Not bad, eh?’

  Gaari raised an eyebrow, his expression unreadable.

  ‘It’s a big kill, all right, mate. Probably enough to feed the whole clan tonight.’

  Jaran’s grin widened, but their father’s didn’t. Instead, he picked up his hunting gear again and turned to Dara.

  ‘Come on, then. We should keep moving before it gets too bright for me out here.’

  Jaran’s smile faded. ‘What about this?’ He nudged the carcass with his toe.

  ‘What about it?’ Gaari replied.

  ‘Aren’t you gonna help me with it? How am I supposed to carry this on my own?’

  ‘Not our problem,’ their father answered. ‘You killed it without stopping to decide whether it was a kill we wanted at the moment. Now you can deal with it. I’d suggest that you get it butchered, load up as much meat as you think you can carry and hang the rest to dry in that tree there. If the meatbirds don’t eat too much, then we’ll recover it on the way home tomorrow.’

  ‘But …’ Jaran started to protest, but their father continued over the top of him.

  ‘And don’t you bloody dare throw even a scrap of meat away. I’m gonna be checking tomorrow, and if I find any bits of wasted carcass hidden in the bushes, I’ll give you a solid thrashing. Part of hunting is deciding what to hunt and having some respect for the bush. That poor animal’s far too big a kill for our needs, so now you’re stuck with the results of your decision.’

  Jaran looked so crestfallen that Dara couldn’t help feeling sorry for him.

  ‘I’ll stay and help,’ she began, but their father shook his head.

  ‘No.’ He turned and pointed at the boulders ahead, indicating a monolithic grey spike of stone that rose above the rest. ‘We’ll be somewhere near that pinnacle. There’s a deep cave a couple of hundred metres from its base. Once you’re done here, head for the pinnacle and shout when you’re close. Dara’ll come out and find you.’

  Without another word, he disappeared into the undergrowth, following a game trail Dara hadn’t noticed before. With a last sympathetic glance at her brother, she followed.

  It was well into the afternoon before Jaran’s weary ‘cooee’ echoed between the cool stones, waking Dara from a light doze. Almost invisible in the dark shadows of the overhang, Gaari stirred slightly in his sleep before settling again. Dara hurried outside, squinting in the bright sunlight, and spotted her brother standing below a tree a hundred metres away. His arms were stained red to the elbow, his shoulders slumped in exhaustion. She waved and he returned the gesture with a weary nod as he trudged towards her. When he was close, she clicked her tongue sympathetically.

  ‘You okay?’

  He nodded. ‘I guess. Tired, though.’ He dropped his hunting gear and a bloody sack of meat on the ground and then slumped wearily beside it.

  Dara lowered herself down beside him. ‘It was a pretty amazing hopper,’ she said, but Jaran looked away, refusing to meet her eye.

  ‘I don’t want to talk about it.’

  The smell coming off him was awful and a small cloud of flies quickly formed around them. Somewhere on the other side of the hills, a meatbird craaked into the still afternoon heat.

  ‘There’s a stream just down that hill a little. You should go and wash yourself off.’

  Jaran nodded but made no move to rise.

  ‘What’s his problem?’ he finally said. Dara didn’t need to ask who he was talking about.

  ‘He’s just trying to teach us …’

  ‘Shi! As far as he’s concerned, you can’t do anything wrong and I can’t do anything right.’

  ‘That’s not true,’ Dara protested, but half-heartedly, and
Jaran didn’t bother to argue the point. His outburst hung between them until the smell and the flies became too much for Dara.

  ‘Come on.’ She climbed to her feet and held out a hand to assist her brother, managing not to wince at the crusted blood that smeared her palm as he took it. ‘Let’s get you cleaned up before Dad wakes up and wants to get moving again.’

  Down at the creek, which was little more than a shallow trickle, Jaran removed his clothes and rinsed them. In the heat of the afternoon, they’d be dry again in no time. Then he crouched down beside a tiny pool and sluiced water over his hands and face and arms. Dara watched as the silvery creek quickly stained red. After ten minutes of scrubbing, there was still a bloody tinge about the skin on his forearms. The flies had disappeared, though.

  Silently, brother and sister wandered back up the slope to the overhang, where they found Gaari awake and waiting.

  ‘All done?’ he asked, and Jaran nodded.

  ‘Good.’ He leaned towards the opening of the cave and extended a hand out into the light, experimentally. ‘Should be okay. Let’s get moving again.’

  ‘Can’t we wait for Jaran to have a bit of a rest?’ Dara asked.

  Their father shook his head. ‘Not if we want to reach the saltwater today. He can sleep tonight.’

  ‘But …’

  ‘I’m fine.’ Jaran’s tone was abrupt. He stalked out into the afternoon, waiting on the other side of the clearing for Dara and Gaari.

  They wound south between the outcroppings of granite before descending a long, densely forested slope. It was a lovely afternoon, and the breeze on their faces grew continually cooler and saltier, but for Dara all the joy had gone out of the day. Every step, every moment, she could feel her twin’s anger radiating off him like a hot flame.

  If their father noticed, he gave no sign. He continued his steady pace through the afternoon until, an hour before sunset, when the shadows were lengthening, they stepped over the top of a small sandy ridge and there in front of them was a long, gleaming crescent of white sand, fringed by deep blue water.

  Dara gasped. Even Jaran allowed his anger to abate somewhat.

  ‘The saltwater,’ their father said. ‘Pretty good, eh?’

  It was more than good. As far as Dara was concerned, it was perfect.

  At either end of the beach, dark headlands jutted out into the sea, and on top of these the thick green of the forest extended almost all the way to the cliff edge. The nightwards end of the beach was already hidden in long shadow, but the rest of the sand seemed to glow pale pink in the late afternoon light. A kilometre or so offshore, a low grey island, all granite, was wreathed in pale spray as the deep ocean swells met with its impervious sides, the booming of their collision carried across the water as a distant, constant grumble. All along the length of the beach – perhaps two or three kilometres in all – the sand was bracketed on the one side by forest and on the other by a ceaseless, shifting shiver of white surf.

  ‘What do you think?’ asked Gaari.

  ‘It’s amazing,’ Dara responded. Jaran didn’t say anything.

  Here and there along the beach, slender dark shadows sprawled across the sand caught Dara’s attention, and it took her a while to work out what they were.

  ‘Hoppers!’

  ‘Yeah.’ Gaari nodded. ‘They spend most of their days basking in the sun here. It’s the easiest hunting you’ll ever do.

  But looking down at the elegant, relaxed animals, Dara knew there was no way she’d be able to bring herself to throw a spear into one, not here in this perfect place where they had no shelter, not even a possibility of escape.

  ‘This way.’ Gaari started down the sandhill and the two kids did likewise. Jaran bounded ahead, leaping down the slope in graceful jumps, while Dara enjoyed the strange sensation of her feet sinking into the soft sand. Every footstep brought with it a luxurious shiver of distant warmth, even though the sand itself was already cooling.

  Once on the beach, she stopped. Jaran was already a hundred or so metres away, his spear and hunting kit discarded on the sand, running towards the water as fast as he could manage.

  ‘Careful, mate!’ Gaari called after him. ‘Don’t let it suck you in. It’s not like the rockpool.’

  Jaran gave not the slightest indication that he’d heard a word.

  Dara dropped her own gear and walked a little way before stopping again. To her surprise, her feet squeaked softly with every step she took in the fine sand. The breeze snatched at her clothing and she could feel the clammy salt settling on her arms. She spread her arms wide to it and closed her eyes, relishing the caress of the air on her body and the warm glow of the earth through her feet. She had the oddest sensation – as though she’d slipped outside her body and was drifting … somewhere. Her father and brother were there, warm bright sparks that flared against the cold water and sand.

  It was only an instant, though, and then she was back in herself again, and grinning broadly she ran, whooping, down the beach, pounding across the hard sand near the water’s edge to join her brother, who was by this time knee-deep in the shallows and soaked to the skin.

  ‘Watch out!’ For the first time in hours, Jaran smiled at her. ‘It’s more powerful than it looks.’

  As if proving his point, a wave smashed onto itself just a few metres out from the beach and a moment later Dara found herself suddenly waist-deep in foaming, fast-moving water which instantly swept her feet out from under her and dragged her down onto the sandy floor of the bay.

  She gasped at the cold and her mouth, ears and throat burned with salt. Luckily, Jaran reached down and grabbed her – his grip on her arm hard and absurdly warm – and pulled her back to her feet before she could be swept along the beach and out to sea.

  ‘You right, sis?’

  ‘Yeah,’ Dara gasped, before a salty gush of cold water exploded out of her mouth, much to Jaran’s amusement. He didn’t release his steadying grip on until she was recovered enough to breathe again.

  Gaari, who’d started running the moment Dara disappeared into the surf, stopped, then watched his children standing together waist-deep in the saltwater.

  ‘We should get back a bit, I reckon.’ Jaran gestured towards the beach and Dara, through chattering teeth, agreed. Together they pulled themselves out of the sucking water and as soon as they were out of reach of the waves they fell giggling onto the sand.

  ‘It’s pretty good, eh, Dara?’

  ‘Jaman. Cold, though.’

  ‘Why’d you reckon Dad’s brought us down here?’

  ‘No idea. Probably just wants us to know what it’s like and how to get here and stuff. Who knows why he does anything?’

  ‘Come on, you two.’ Gaari had walked up behind them. ‘Sun’s almost down, and we need to get some dry wood together. If we don’t get you both dried out, you’ll freeze to death.’

  ‘Where are we gonna camp?’ Jaran asked, the first words he’d spoken to Gaari all afternoon.

  ‘Right here. We’ll set up at the base of the sandhills, where the waves won’t reach us.’

  The two kids were kept busy gathering wood, while Gaari set up their firepit. There was plenty of bleached, dry driftwood along the beach and they soon had a roaring fire going, the flames cracking and shot through with green and blue sparks. As the sun sank below the headland, casting the entire beach into shadow, Gaari made the two kids remove their clothes and sling them across branches to dry, while they hunkered beside the flames. Out to sea, the horizon slowly faded into grey murk, and overhead the stars – vaultlights, as Ma Saria insisted on calling them – winked into life.

  ‘Why’d you bring us all this way?’ Jaran asked. Dara didn’t think her father was going to give them a straight answer, but then he looked at them both seriously, meeting their eyes one after the other.

  ‘So you two will always have somewhere to get away to. If you need it.’

  ‘Get away from what?’

  Their father looked out to sea.

/>   ‘From … anything. The clan, whatever. You never know when or if you’ll need somewhere to hide, and for both of you this might be a good place to keep in mind. There’s a fresh water spring just beyond that headland up there, plenty of food around, and it’d be difficult for anyone to follow you here.’

  Dara glanced at her brother, but Jaran’s eyes were fixed on the fire. The breeze continued to build and, despite the flames, she shivered slightly. Gaari noticed.

  ‘Here you go.’

  From his hunting kit he pulled two silvery thermal blankets and tossed them to the children. The metallic cloth was gossamer-thin, but once she’d wrapped it around her shoulders Dara felt instantly warm. In the firelight the blanket shimmered a thousand different refracted colours. They sat, unspeaking, while the night settled around them and their father roasted some of the meat Jaran had brought with him. In the darkness, the constant booming of the saltwater seemed closer and louder, and several times Dara glanced nervously down the beach, reassuring herself that the water wasn’t creeping towards them.

  Their bellies full, they stoked up the fire once more and then settled down for the night. Dara pulled her blanket tightly around herself and lay back in the soft, firewarm sand, listening to her brother’s breathing, which was barely audible over the crashing surf. She closed her eyes, but it was some time before she felt the first, soporific fluttering wash over her.

  Just before she finally drifted off, a distant tremor swept through her, out of the earth, coming from somewhere far away, nightwards. It happened just the once. The sensation came and went so quickly that she barely knew she’d felt it before she was asleep.

  Dara dreamed, that night on the beach, burning dreams which, when her father shook her awake in the pale pink dawnlight, fled instantly from her memory, leaving behind just a vaguely unsettled feeling of dread.

  After breakfast she and Jaran wandered the beach, all the way to the daywards headland, examining the myriad detritus washed up above the high-water line. As well as the brittle, sun-and-salt bleached skeletons of tiny marine creatures, there were bizarre manufactured objects – unidentifiable foam and rubber shapes, tangles of fine polymer mesh, lumps of weathered plascrete, all of it aeons old, and all of it still clinging to the otherwise pristine beach like ancient tumours, stubbornly refusing to vanish even with the inexorable passage of time.