by Kyra Dune
“Of course.” She rubbed her gloved hands together, focusing on them rather than her brother. “It won’t be much longer now.”
She couldn’t tell him it was looking as if they’d survived the attack on Talphan only to die out here in the cold snow. But it was a truth that lay heavy on her mind.
There was something else that maybe she should tell Pytaki, though she’d never intended to. She considered telling him the truth about a lie. The rather big lie that had put such strain on her relationship with their father. She’d sworn to keep that truth to herself but at a time like this, it seemed that maybe she should clear the air before there was no longer a chance to do so.
She took a deep breath, steeling herself for what she was about to say. “Pytaki, I–” A loud, shrill call cut her off and drew her eyes to the sky. The black bird was back.
“What’s that?” Pytaki stared up at the bird as if it were a monster from the dark abyss.
“It’s only a bird.”
“A…a what?”
“A bird. You know.”
He only stared back with a dumfounded expression on his face and it occurred to her that he might not ever have heard the word. He was only three when they lost their mother and their father had burned all her things immediately afterward. So Pytaki had never seen the picture, at least not so that he could remember, or been told their mother’s handed-down stories.
“It’s not dangerous.” Micayta drew the mare to a stop. “I think it wants to help us.”
Pytaki looked up at the bird. “Are you sure?”
The bird veered off toward the north. “Trust me.” Micayta tapped the reins against the mare’s neck and urged the horse after the bird. Pytaki brought his own horse into step beside them.
They followed the bird for half an hour, until the sun was nothing more than a pale rim of light on the western horizon. The ground began to slope downward and soon they found themselves moving through a valley. At the center of the valley stood a house, with a barn to the left and a shed to the right. A wooden fence surrounded the structures.
It was getting darker by the minute, but there was still enough light for Micayta to see how large portions of the fence had rotted and collapsed. The house sagged under the weight of snow piled high atop its roof, the walls bowed.
“See.” Micayta dismounted. “I told you not to worry.”
“Do you think it will be warm inside?” Pytaki asked. He lost his balance sliding off the smaller horse and hit the ground with a surprised grunt.
Micayta shook her head as he floundered in the snow, trying to regain his feet. “Can’t you do anything without my help?” She strode over and hauled him up. “You better hope it’s warm in there; you’ve spent enough time in the snow today.”
Pytaki muttered something under his breath, his face turning bright red. Micayta let him have his little moment and pretended not to notice. “Let’s get inside.”
“What about the horses?”
“Look how shaggy they are.” Micayta turned him around to face the mare and colt. “Delane told me that so long as a horse isn’t clipped it can survive fine outside. I’ll tie them up on this side of the house so they won’t be in the wind.”
“Well, okay. If you’re sure.”
“I’m sure.” She steered him toward the house and gave him a little push. “Go up on the porch and wait for me.”
It only took a moment to find a suitable place to tie the horses. She then broke one of the loaves of bread in two and fed half to each horse. She hated to part with the food but if the horses went and died on them, it wouldn’t do them much good. After that, Micayta joined Pytaki on the porch. When she opened the door, they found themselves looking into a small living room that was furnished with a rust-colored couch, a potbelly stove, and a small wooden table with a chair. A bright rug lay in front of the couch, its yellow and red threads making a swirling pattern.
In the other room was a neatly made bed with a blue quilt. A pair of leather boots sat beside it. The clothes in the closet were clearly meant for mild weather. A large trunk held several sets of heavier clothing as well as some thick blankets. There were also five cans of lamp oil, all full.
“This will come in handy,” Micayta handed two of the cans to Pytaki then picked up the other three and carried them back to the living room.
Pytaki put his cans on the table. He looked around the room and ran his finger across the layer of dust on the back of the chair. The same dust coated everything in the house, marking their footsteps out clearly on the floor. “This place is creepy.”
“This place saved our lives.” Micayta took a lamp down from the wall, blew off the dust and turned the key to light it. It gave off a warm yellow glow. “Don’t be ungrateful.”
Carrying the lamp with her, Micayta went to kneel in front of the stove. It was an old thing and the door in the front squeaked as she pulled it open. It was relatively clean inside and she thought it would be safe to light a fire.
Behind the stove there was a stack of wood coated in dust.
Pytaki watched her as she tossed one of the logs into the stove, his brow creased. “Are you sure you know what you’re doing?”
Micayta threw him a dirty look. “Would I mess with this if I didn’t know what I was doing?”
“No, I guess not.”
“Stand back.” She pushed him away, in case there was some kind of problem. This stove was older than the one Delane kept it in the kitchen and she wasn’t sure what would happen once she got a fire going.
Micayta opened the lamp and carefully poured some of the oil onto the log. Then she slipped the glass off the top of the lamp and touched the flame to the wood, pulling her hand back quick to avoid getting burned. Warm orange light warmed her skin as the log caught fire.
“Nothing to it.” Micayta slammed the door shut with a resounding clang. “We’ll stay warm tonight.”
“What about tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow, I’ll check those other buildings and see if there’s anything we can use.” She crossed the room to the door. “Then we’ll leave.”
“We can’t stay here?”
“No.” She opened the door, letting in a blast of frigid air. “There’s no food here.” She stepped out onto the porch and looked around the corner to check on the horses. They didn’t seem the least bit bothered by the falling temperatures.
Micayta was about to go back in when she spotted the black bird sitting on a fence post. Could he survive the cold along with the horses? Might be better not to take the chance. She didn’t like the idea of coming out in the morning and finding the bird dead. “It’s going to get really cold out there,” she said, not sure if the bird could understand. “Do you want to come in?”
Soundlessly, the bird lifted off the fence post and flew past her into the house. Pytaki jumped up from where he’d been sitting on the floor. He watched uneasily as the bird settled onto the back of the chair.
“Are you sure it’s a good idea to have that thing in here?”
“It’s only a bird.” She pulled the door shut, and then came back to the warmth of the stove. “Besides, we owe him.”
“Him?”
Micayta shrugged. “He seems like a him, that’s all.”
“I don’t know. I think he’s weird.”
“So maybe he is weird. So what? If it weren’t for him we’d still be out there walking around in the dark with no shelter, no food, and no horses. Do you think you could try not complaining for once in your life?”
Pytaki dropped down on the couch, arms crossed. “Sorry.”
Micayta sighed. “Just go in the other room and bring the quilt and some blankets. We’re going to sleep here in front of the fire tonight.”
He got up without a word and went into the bedroom. She shook her head. Let him be angry if he liked. She knew what was best and he shouldn’t question that. Not after everything she’d done for him over the years. Rest would help and in the morning they would go south, as she
thought of before. She had no idea what had drawn her west to begin with, but she wasn’t feeling it now. No, south was the way to go.
Chapter Six
The air was thick with smoke, so thick that Micayta could see nothing, not even the ground on which she walked. There was heat, so much heat, and the faint whisper of something gliding through the air above her head.
Panic clawed its way up her throat as she gasped for breath, finding none. She ran, but it was tortuously slow, like running through water. She couldn’t find the shelter she was so desperately seeking.
Flames sprang up before her eyes, blinding her, sending her reeling backwards. But there were flames all around her now. They closed in; living, writhing things that sought to engulf her in their eternal fire.
Micayta sat up with a gasp, clutching her chest. Biting down on her lip to stifle a scream, she glanced over at Pytaki. He was an indistinct lump in the dark and she was glad to see she hadn’t woken him.
The fire in the stove had burned out, but it was still warm in the room. A little too warm, bringing back that feeling of suffocation from her nightmare. She crawled out from under the quilt and stumbled her way to the door.
The sky was overfilled with stars, their pale silver light casting a glow over the snow covered ground. Micayta’s thoughts whirled, erratic as the rapid beat of her heart. Snow would start to fall once the sun rose and the sky became clouded. More snow every day, unending, weighing down on rooftops, fences, and hearts. How much more snow could they stand? How much longer until the days were as cold as bitter night and it was too dangerous to venture outside no matter how many layers you wore?
Her stomach growled, reminding her of the fact that she hadn’t eaten in a while. Thinking about that was better. She moved quietly back through the living room to the table, where half of the second loaf of bread sat.
Picking at the bread, Micayta tried to calm her mind, but couldn’t seem to stop it turning. Somehow, she found herself thinking of her mother. Like so many others, her mother had believed in the dream of a place beyond the sea. South, that was always her mother’s dream. To the sea and beyond. To some place where winter was but one season. Some place where the sun still shone on the land.
“The entire world can’t be suffering this eternal winter,” she’d said, “it isn’t possible.” South had become a magical word representing all the things her mother wanted and couldn’t have.
Oh, how their mother had wanted to go, but their father hadn’t been willing to take the risk. Too grounded, too set in his ways, he couldn’t see any further than Bethseda. That was as far from Talphan as he’d ever been in his life and Micayta too. Until now.
The black bird chose that moment to land on the table in front of her. “Where were you hiding?” She broke off a piece of bread and tossed it to him.
“I’m tired of winter. I want to see spring,” Micayta propped her chin up on her hands. “It can’t all be stories, can it? My mother said her own parents lived it. They saw birds and warm days and clear skies when they were children. Their parents told them stories of how it was even better when they were young. It can’t all be made up.”
The bird tilted his head, looking up at her as if he would like to reply. She chuckled and shook her head. She was really being silly, letting a simple nightmare twist her thoughts up so.
She pushed away from the table and went to sit down beside her brother. He was curled up on his side with the lower half of his face covered by the quilt. She reached over and brushed the hair from his face. Much as she had that night so long ago, after their mother was gone, when he’d crawled into her bed for the first time.
She’d dried his tears with the sleeve of her nightgown, holding him close and singing a song to calm his fears. He was so small then and couldn’t understand what was happening. Micayta was still a child herself, but older, better able to understand. To even be a part of it.
The last thing her mother had ever asked of her was a promise that she would look after Pytaki, keep him safe. “And I’ll keep that promise, forever,” Micayta whispered into the dark, looking down at her sleeping brother. “No matter what happens, I’ll take care of you.”
Chapter Seven
Micayta stood by the open door and stared out at the gray sky. She’d sat with her brother until her back had started to ache, then she’d thought of lying down again but was too afraid of the nightmare’s return. The new day was dawning anyway and so she’d come to watch the gray clouds building, receiving one brief glimpse of blue sky as her reward.
“Is it time to leave?”
She turned. Pytaki was sitting up, rubbing his eyes and shivering from the cold air she was letting in. “No.” She leaned back against the door frame. “It’s early yet. Go back to sleep.”
“I can’t. I’m too hungry.”
“So eat some of the bread, then. There’s plenty.”
He made a face. “It smells funny and it looks…well kind of gross.”
The bread was rather stiff and not much for taste, but in their situation they could hardly afford to be choosy. “Fine, then. Don’t eat. Don’t sleep. Don’t do anything. See if I care.”
“Sorry,” he muttered. He lay down on his side, his back to her, and pulled the quilt up over his head.
Micayta stood in the doorway a moment, torn between two conflicting emotions. She could apologize, but no, it was better this way. Let him be angry, it would make him stronger and he would need to be stronger to face the days ahead.
Drawing on her gloves, she crossed the front yard to the stable. It was in far worse shape than the house. Parts of the roof had collapsed and were now buried in snow, but at least it offered her light so that she wasn’t forced to waste any of the precious lamp oil.
She made a half-hearted search of the debris, kicking aside bits of steel and iron here, lifting a board there, and not expecting to find anything of use. The dim sunlight glinted off something in the far corner. Something partly buried in the snow. She moved closer, pushing aside bits of collapsed wall in order to see better, only to wish that she hadn’t.
Beneath what was left of an interior wall slumped the skeletal remains of a man in tattered overalls. Judging by the crack in his skull, she guessed that he’d been there when the roof collapsed. Though whether that was caused by the snow or not, was a mystery.
Clutched in the man’s hand was a faded, soggy teddy bear, a pink ribbon still wrapped around its neck. It was that more than anything else that hit Micayta somewhere deep inside, where this whole thing had not yet managed to touch.
She backed away, wanting nothing more than to run but her legs betrayed her, buckling at the knees and dropping her to the ground. She closed her eyes and tried to still the sudden whirling in her head. She couldn’t imagine why the sight of this long dead stranger was having such an effect on her.
An image of her father rose unbidden behind her closed eyes. Buried there beneath the rubble, empty eyes staring up at her in cold accusation, one hand reaching out for help that would never come.
Kneeling there in the snow with the wind howling through a break in the wall, Micayta cried. She cried until there were no tears left and then she laughed. A high, wild kind of sound that had nothing to do with humor. She laughed until she couldn’t breathe and she bent over until her forehead touched the cold ground.
She sat up and wiped her hands across her face. It was a good thing her brother wasn’t there to see her. A soft call drew her attention. The black bird was watching her from the corner, perched on something. She couldn’t tell what.
“Where did you come from?” The bird tilted his head, looking at her with those strangely intelligent eyes. She laughed and wiped a stray tear off her cheek with the back of her hand. “You must think I’m crazy, huh, bird?”
The bird hopped sideways, ruffling his feathers and making a clicking sound. “What do you have over there?” Micayta rose to her feet and approached the bird.
What he had was a saddle. No,
two saddles. Damp and worn, but still usable. “Py was right, you are weird. But thanks.” The bird lifted off the saddle and flew out through the open stable door.
Micayta took the saddles out one at a time and dropped them next to the horses. The wind was chilly, but at least there was no snow falling. A fact she could be grateful for as she made her way around the back of the house to the shed.
There was no roof, only an open space and a few remaining beams. Snow covered everything, but there were spots here and there where she could make out fragmented pieces of plant plates. Not a shed then, but a greenhouse. No doubt it had once been used to grow the crops that could no longer be planted in the frozen ground.
It was doubtful there was anything left of whatever had once grown there and to dig around in the snow would likely get her nothing but a nasty cut from the glass that was once part of the ceiling.
Micayta turned without going inside and headed back to the house. “Hey Py, you’ll never guess what I…” She paused in the doorway. The living room was empty. “Pytaki?”
“Down here.” His voice was close, but muffled.
She stepped into the room and saw the rug thrown back, a trapdoor opened in the floor. A faint light shone down in the darkness. “What are you doing down there?”
“Look what I found.” Pytaki came up the ladder and handed her a jar full of a flesh colored substance. “Do you think it’s food?”
Micayta lifted the jar and peered at its contents. Something stirred deep in her memory. “Only one way to find out.”
The metal lid came off with a soft pop. Micayta took off her gloves and dipped her fingers into a substance that was thick and slimy, but with a tangy scent that made her stomach growl. She tentatively stuck her fingers in her mouth. The taste was at once tart and sweet, bringing the unwelcome memory back full force.
“I think it might be fruit,” she said, doing her best to keep the sudden rush of anger from her voice.
“Fruit?” Pytaki frowned at the jar. “I thought that grew on trees.”