“Finding anything good?” Karl asked.
She examined her fistful of weeds and shrugged. “Salal. Licorice. Some gooseberries, but they’re almost all gone.”
“An agile girl like you might be able to coax down a few of the last olives back near the creek bed.”
“I can’t wander too far,” she said, and nodded over toward the goats clustered nearby. They bit and chewed at something close to the dirt underneath some tall, dry anise.
“And how would Uma ever find out you left?” he asked with a wicked grin. “The goats know their way back.”
Rosalyn put the toolbox down next to Karl. She sat down on it and exhaled like Atlas having just set aside the weight of the world. One of the goats wandered over from the rest and browsed the ground near Rosalyn’s feet. Rosalyn stomped at the beast. It scampered away.
“Now, Rosalyn,” Karl said. “Didn’t Uma teach you to treat God’s creatures with kindness, and they give back to you tenfold?”
“That’s stupid,” she said. “They’ll all end up in the cook pot whether or not you put bows in their hair. Dinah names them. That just means we’ll know which one we’re going to eat next.”
Karl gave Rosalyn a gentle pat on the head. “There’s a good girl inside of you yet, just waiting to come out. When you’ve rested up, bring the tools back. We’ll go check the rabbit traps after.”
Karl headed off down the trail toward the house.
“You are such an ass-kisser,” Rosalyn said.
“Rosalyn, I’m just looking after the goats. You’re the one doing the more important stuff, like helping Karl.”
“You get to play while I work. Picking flowers isn’t a chore.”
“The berries are for everyone. And the flowers go into the tea or the soup.”
But Rosalyn wasn’t listening. She glared at the nearest goat. Amanda. When Amanda began to nibble her way closer, Dinah interceded and shooed her toward her sisters.
“You better make sure nothing happens to any of them,” Rosalyn said.
“Nothing will.”
Rosalyn got up and got close. She jabbed Dinah in the stomach with a finger. Dinah took a step back. Rosalyn followed. She was taller, and faster. Running wasn’t an option.
“Leave me alone.”
“Or? Will something happen? Will Uma find out? Will Karl?”
Dinah snatched up a stick from the ground. It was a feeble, dry thing, but at least it was arm-long with a fork at the end. She pointed it at Rosalyn. Rosalyn grabbed it and threw it at a goat.
“Karl is waiting for you,” Dinah said. She wished she could have spoken without a tremble in her voice.
Rosalyn noticed, judging by the look of satisfaction that crossed her face. She turned, collected the toolbox, and left the meadow.
6. Strangers
The giant bird kept Dinah treed the entire night. It greeted her the next morning with a long chirp from right underneath her branch. It stood high on its tiptoes. If it jumped, it might be able to grab hold of her and drag her down from her big branch. But it didn’t do that. Its big eyes just stared, as if it was expecting something. She had no food in her pack, and the creature had all the water it could ever want down at the pool. Some of the tree’s smaller branches might have made good throwing sticks, but she didn’t want to lose her balance trying to break one off.
A beep sounded. It came from her pack. How long had it been doing that? She pulled out the sensor and examined it. It was either the most important thing in her possession or a useless piece of junk just weighing her down. And now it was making noise on its own accord. The LED screen was blank, and she couldn’t get it to light up.
The bird beeped back, except with more melody and ten times louder.
“Great. Now the neighbors are awake.”
In the moment of silence that followed, she didn’t hear another living thing. Any other bird nearby was probably scared out of its feathers by the monster beneath her. Mammals and other creatures no doubt ceded the water hole to their new avian alpha predator. The bird trumpeted a second time. Dinah listened to the echo die around her.
The sun rose and crested the hill. She was stiff from spending the night in the tree. Her stomach rumbled. She touched the metal point of the device’s long pin. Slightly sharp, but no weapon. It would make for a poor defense if it came to that, no better than her short knife. She felt her frustration rise.
She screamed, “Go away!”
The bird just cocked its head, and then it shrieked. The ear-splitting sound made her head hurt. The sensor beeped again, and the bird began to do something funny. It scurried back and forth while standing on its toes. Dinah held the sensor high so the bird could see it.
“This isn’t for you,” she said, and she meant it. She wouldn’t give it up. But the bird seemed to want it, maybe more than it wanted her. Wherever the sensor moved, the bird followed.
Dinah planted the device into the bark of the branch in a place where the bird could see it. It appeared hypnotized. She then slid down the opposite side of the tree. She kept one leg hitched, her foot on a knot on the trunk and her hands both set firmly on a branch. She could pull herself up if the monster came for her. But it didn’t.
The sensor beeped again. The bird answered. It remained out of sight on the opposite side of the tree.
The ground felt good beneath her feet. The first thing she did was look for a downed branch that would work better as a bird club. The branch she found was heavy, a two-handed beast whacker. She tested its heft. Karl might have felt comfortable wielding it, but it was cumbersome in her hands. At least it made her feel better, though for a bird this size, her weapon still felt inadequate. Could she take the thing down? She wished Karl was there.
I’d even take Rosalyn.
She made a wide circle around the tree and readjusted her grip on her new club. The bird didn’t seem concerned that she was now behind it. It was standing as high as it could, looking at her sensor, and making funny jerking motions with its head. She might be able to hit the thing in the neck, but she’d have to jump to get it in the noggin. She doubted her ability to deliver enough force to kill it. On the other hand, if she downed the thing, she’d eat well for a week.
Batter up.
It was then that the bird turned and looked straight at her. It squawked and shot its head forward like a snake. Dinah backed away and stumbled on an exposed root. The bird followed as she fell on her back and stood over her, its beak inches from her face. She still held the branch to her chest, but it was useless. She felt useless.
“Go away!” She prepared to push the thing back in a final act of defiance before it brained her.
It squawked again. Dinah’s heart pounded in her chest. Then something thrashed nearby, distracting the bird. It stepped away from her and over to a patch of dry grass, where it tugged at a struggling squirrel caught in one of Dinah’s snares. The strangling animal came free from the twigs, the snare still tight around its bloody throat. The bird tried to swallow it, trap and all. Dinah slowly moved the tip of her branch toward the bird to push it away, but it paused to look at her, as if daring her to try something. She dropped her weapon and scrambled backward.
Then the bird spat the squirrel out. The now-dead creature seemed to stare straight at Dinah as if to say, “Hey, looks like we get to be today’s mixed-meat platter special. Sucks to be us, doesn’t it?”
The bird put one foot on the carcass and tore the squirrel apart, swallowing half of it and sending the rest flying. Dinah continued to back away. The bird looked around on the ground for more to eat, but didn’t find the second half of the squirrel. It considered Dinah again. Some of Uma’s neighbors had cats that would torment their mouse prey for hours, batting them about, scratching them, holding them down so they could escape only to be pounced on again and again. She made it to a tree and stood up, her legs shaking. One of her ankles complained, but she ignored it.
Again, the sensor beeped. The bird turned its attention u
pward. Dinah ever so slowly retrieved her giant club, trying not to make any sounds. The bird settled in beneath the tree and sat down at its base, fluffing its dry, dusty feathers over its legs.
This was her chance to sneak away, but she didn’t want to leave the sensor. Besides, she was tired and weak from hunger. She found the remaining squirrel half and was surprised to see that it had a few mouthfuls of meat still on it. Plus, she could reuse the snare.
She kept an eye on the bird as she climbed the boulders. She found a good spot for a fire where she could see everything. She gathered tinder and twigs and a pronged stick so she could hold the squirrel remains over the flames on a skewer with minimal effort. From her pouch, she removed a small piece of steel and a worn chunk of chert. The local rock worked well enough in place of flint. She scraped at the steel until a spark began to smolder in the tinder. Then she started blowing gently until a plume of white smoke began to rise. She put her twigs over it all and blew some more. When it went smoothly, the process never failed to make her feel better.
***
Dinah cooked and ate every strip of squirrel meat, leaving nothing but bones. Down below, she could see the bird’s backside still in the same spot beneath her tree. Her meal was just a snack, really, but it gave her enough oomph to get up and keep going. The fire was on its way out, but she could rebuild it if she returned. She needed more food, needed to hunt. Her sensor could be retrieved later. If she could get enough in her belly, she could resume her search for her brother.
She flung the remains of the squirrel in the bird’s direction but got no reaction.
“I’m leaving. But I’ll be back. Watch my stuff.”
She left her big branch leaning on a tree, found her rabbit stick, and went hunting.
The area downstream grew thick with vegetation, most of it willow and other trees, all competing for the rare commodity of abundant water. Dinah walked along the stream bank and sifted through the undergrowth in search of edibles. Deer droppings and tracks crossed one section of the stream. If only I could bring down one of those. She pulled a clump of clovers and rinsed them. These she chewed. She saw plenty of things she wasn’t sure about, and then she found arrowroot growing in some swirling shallows. How the deer had missed these was a mystery. She dug up several finger-length tubers. She put three in her bag for later and ate three on the spot, spitting out a few hard bits. Maybe she had been hasty and had gotten dirt in her mouth, but she didn’t care. She took all of the plants’ leaves too. Now she just needed more meat.
The small meadow she found was perfectly lit, a circle of tall reed grass and heather under a crown of pine and oak trees. A pair of woodpeckers made their repeating piping calls at one another. These stayed out of throw range. She settled downwind of the meadow in some shade and waited. Most of the rabbits she had caught had come out at dusk or dawn, the magic hours less frequented by hawks or owls.
It didn’t take long for the local fauna to forget that she was even there. She knew how to be still. Every so often she changed position to avoid cramping up or having a leg fall asleep. Making the same mistake twice would be foolish. When the time came, she would have to move quickly. She waited and watched for hours.
When the mottled brown bunny came a-hopping through the grass, it was still the middle of the day. It looked big. It chewed away at some low weeds, its ears up, its mouth full. She adjusted her grip on her rabbit stick and took a breath, then sprang into the meadow and bolted for the startled animal. It didn’t wait around long, immediately running in a line toward a thick wall of scrub. She was closing in, but the rabbit was fast. It vanished into the vegetation, and she jumped straight in, heedless of what might lie underfoot. The dry bush scratched her arms and face. The rabbit scrambled out the other side, and she followed. The animal ran with a lopsided gait that slowed it down. Dinah threw the stick with a sideways spin. The piece of wood clobbered the rabbit. She jumped on it as it stumbled and grabbed her prey by the loose skin of the neck. It was only stunned, and it kicked wildly.
It began its whupping scream, the final cry every rabbit makes. It was pitiable and sad. She put it out of its misery with her knife.
She brought her prize back to camp, using trees as cover. The big bird was gone. She got closer and saw her sensor still up on the branch, and a quick recon confirmed the creature was nowhere around the pool. Relief filled her. She retrieved her sensor and climbed up the boulders to rebuild her fire. It was only late afternoon. There might be time for food and another swim if the bird stayed away.
She peeled the skin from the rabbit. What she saw almost made her throw up. Thick clusters of white tumors like bleached grapes grew out from underneath the rabbit’s front leg joints. No wonder it couldn’t run in a straight line. This made her question her hunting prowess. Was that why she had caught the animal so quickly and easily? Maybe it explained why it was foraging in the middle of the day. Perhaps its rabbit clan had cast out the unclean animal. Or it was sick in the brain.
This left her with a diseased animal corpse. She had no idea if eating the thing would be safe. Karl had said the animals and the Earth were paying the price for man’s sins. Uma would get mad at him for even speaking of such things, so Karl would change the subject.
Dinah cut away at the tumors and checked the meat. It had a grayish coloration to it. It smelled funky. Despite the evidence, her stomach wanted it. The lean back legs appeared to be in good health. She sliced them off.
The fire came back to life with some more grass and twigs and plenty of love. She added some broken branches and leaned a flat rock over the edge of the flame. Here she placed her arrowroot tubers and rabbit legs, wishing for some salt and olive oil from Uma’s pantry. It wasn’t the feast she wanted, but it would be the best meal she had eaten in a week.
Afterwards, she buried the rest of the rabbit a short distance from camp and set up the rest of her snares there. When life gives you diseased rabbit carcass, make hay. She was sure Karl had said something like that at one time or another.
***
Dinah didn’t feel like gambling. She again spent the night in the tree, but at least she had her blanket. It still proved miserable. A pair of owls or doves kept at it for what seemed like most of the night, working at a dialogue delivered at maximum volume. Every time she thought the two were finished and she could drift off they would start up again. She wondered if other daytime critters hated their neighbors as much as she did.
Her giant bird was still gone in the morning. By then her legs and back and neck were in open revolt. She thought she would fall out of the tree when she first tried to climb down. Pins and needles worked their way from her thighs to her feet.
She stirred at the ashes of her fire. At first, she thought she’d have to start from scratch, but a few embers gave off a wisp of smoke when poked. She fed these embers, plied them with love and dried twigs and lots of air. Soon enough her fire was back, and she was dizzy from the effort. She collected some larger pieces of wood so the fire would keep for a while.
The spring water felt as cold as ever as she splashed it on her face. She drank, then grabbed up her rabbit stick and went to check her traps.
***
Five traps, five dead animals. Dinah felt a rush at the certainty of breakfast. She almost cheered.
Back at camp, she laid out three squirrels, one rabbit, and one reddish chipmunk on the rocks. With the knife, she gutted and cleaned the meat. She found tumors on one squirrel and set him aside. That one she’d use as bait for the next round of traps. The sick squirrel’s skin appeared intact, so she would scrape it clean later, as soon as she got the rest of the meat drying or cooking.
Her salt supplies were running low. The small pouch inside her herb bag had barely a spoonful. She could only properly salt one squirrel if she wanted the meat to last more than a few days. She decided to save the salt, except for one pinch that she sprinkled over the pink carcasses softly hissing on her cook stone. She also crumpled some dry rosemary need
les and scattered them on the meat.
Soon enough the four stringy woodland creatures started to sizzle. The smells made her stomach complain like a trapped animal. Her mouth began to salivate. But eating anything raw and getting sick would be a mistake. Uma and Karl had drilled that into her head repeatedly. Uma would chide the girls to cook everything through, and they would both make faces behind her back. Dinah tried counting to distract herself, but the smell of imminent food was almost too much.
Trickling fat rolled and dripped into the fire. The sputtering sound was like music. She turned each piece of meat with her knife and licked the blade like it was candy.
A barking sound echoed from somewhere downstream. She stopped and listened. It came again, a pair of staccato barks from what could only be a large dog, and it was close. A man shouted repeatedly, then called for the dog.
Dinah’s club and pack were already together. She scooped it all up. For a moment, she looked at the fire and her food. She debated skewering it all with her knife. There wasn’t time to swamp the fire so it wouldn’t be seen. The smell of it would surely have already been noticed. Whoever was coming was following the water to its source and would be there in seconds. They would find her pool, her fire, and her meal. She wanted to scream.
The dog was barking again, but much closer.
Dinah scaled the rocks to a tree and started climbing. The tree had enough foliage to conceal her. She found a spot where she could watch. Then it dawned on her that staying so close was a granddaddy of a mistake. The dog would smell her up here. Her only hope was that the aroma of the food would distract it.
She fought to control her heart rate and to quiet her breathing. Her hands trembled, but whether from fear or anger or frustration, she didn’t know.
A large black-and-tan dog with a long muzzle and pointed ears came sniffing up to her fire. It made a quick circle before looking back down the hill and barking. Two adults, one man and one woman, clambered through the foliage. The woman leaned on the man and seemed to have a hard time walking. The man used a makeshift walking stick.
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