by Aderyn Wood
Dale put the empty tubes and the used shells together with the repair kit. Then she looked out to the bay in front of her. The water was calm again today. A plop of water splashed about ten yards from where she stood, then another. She put her hand to her brow and squinted. A fish jumped up and landed causing yet another plop. I think I’ll have fish stew tomorrow night.
That night Dale dined on a stew that would have made Joan proud. The rabbit meat had tenderised with gentle simmering and the vegetables and herbs added to the flavour. There was enough for seconds and Dale ate two full steaming bowls.
After dinner she sat by the fire and stitched the tear in the mainsail. The repair kit contained needles and thread for such a purpose. Night had descended and the fire cast a warm glow in the cave. The little cut outs in the wall made dark shadows that danced when the flames moved.
She finished the stitching and inspected her work. It looked tight. She grabbed a handful of sail either side of the stitching and gave a hard yank. The stitching held. She yanked again, harder. It still held. “Good job, Dale.”
She folded the large sail as best she could and put it next to her bed, then stepped outside onto the landing. The fresh scent of rain filled the air, and sure enough cool drops soon dotted her skin. She held out her hands and looked at the skies. Laughter escaped her lips. This rain was gentle and the sound comforting. Nothing like the sharp, angry rain of the storm that had sent her here.
The rain grew heavier and she stepped back into the cave, warming her hands above the flames. She put a pot of water on to boil and watched it, thinking. What am I doing? I seem to be making myself more at home here. I should be working faster, getting ready to leave. The Borderlands await.
She remembered what Ness had said. ‘You must go to them.’
Ness with her blue eyes, like the sapphire she wore at her throat. Suddenly the old woman’s eyes floated before her, and when Dale looked beyond them she could see the familiar books in Ness’s sitting room. Ness herself sat in one of the chairs.
Finally, child, I reach you.
Dale’s eyes widened and she jumped, losing the vision. She rubbed her eyes. “Damn.” That had surely been Ness, scrying, or whatever she had called it. Dale berated herself and tried to get the vision back, but no matter how hard she tried it just wouldn’t form. Finally, when the kettle boiled, she gave up.
19
The following morning Dale rekindled the fire. She stared into the flames and willed them to show her Ness. But smoke stung her eyes and made her cough, so she gave it up, grabbed the fishing reel and headed off to the beach.
She stopped at Joy to check her epoxy job. When she poked it with her finger it didn’t move or leave an imprint. Best leave it one more day, though.
She walked to the shore and the fish were already jumping. The wall of rocks that disappeared into the ocean seemed to provide a haven for all sorts of marine life.
She climbed along the wall until she was twenty yards from the shoreline. From her coat pocket, she took a ribbon of rabbit meat and threaded it onto a hook. After casting the reel just the way Gareth had taught her, she sat on a large rock to wait.
Fishing brought more memories of Gareth, like the time they caught a large salmon, which they took back to Joan who made a huge fish stew. Salmon were notoriously difficult to catch in Scotland’s waterways now. Gareth had more pride than a peacock that day. ‘It’s the rabbit meat,’ he’d said to Dale, as he tapped the side of his nose.
The reel tugged and Dale’s heart thudded. She gulped and wound her line in a little. There was another tug, harder this time and it didn’t stop.
“I got one.” She laughed and reeled in the line. A silver streak bounced along under the water’s surface. Dale kept reeling until she had the fish dangling before her. It was a beauty.
Guilt rose again when she thumped its head against the rock. You’re too soft, Dale.
As she gutted the fish, Cat appeared beside her. He sniffed the air and started meowing.
“Trust you to turn up now.” She laughed and threw some meat which Cat pounced on and attacked.
“It’s already dead, Cat.”
Back at the cave, Dale cooked her fresh kill on the fire. The aroma made her mouth water. The fish was ready in moments and Dale savoured the hot taste.
‘Nothing like fresh fish, lass.’ Gareth’s words echoed.
She could do more fishing that afternoon; fish stew for dinner would be nice.
Dale spent the day attending to her stores. Checking over her food supplies she guessed she had enough to last two more weeks, at a stretch. She scratched her head, wondering if a diet of rabbit and fish would be enough to sustain her. She filled all her water bottles from the sparkling stream, collected more pine needles for her bedding, and restocked her firewood supply. In the afternoon she caught another three fish. Perfect for a fish stew. After she gutted them she looked over Joy, feeling pleased with her work so far. The sail was fixed and the hardened epoxy just needed sanding. She walked around to the stern and frowned when she saw where the rudder had been. What on earth will I use for a rudder? Should I use a branch? But that would be awkward, and probably too heavy. She sighed. Maybe the rudder would defeat her.
It was almost dark by the time her fish stew was cooking over the fire. The aroma of frying onions, garlic, herbs and fresh fish brought back more memories of summer nights with Joan and Gareth.
She wiped her eyes on her shirt and the whiff of body odour distracted her from her nostalgia.
“Phoar, I need a bath.” I better do that tomorrow too.
Cat blinked.
“What about if we stayed here for a while, Cat? Would you like that?”
“Meow,” Cat said and he walked toward her, head-butting her hand.
Dale looked into the fire. “We don’t really have a choice at the moment, but I do like it here.”
The following morning Dale went to the beach before breakfast. She stripped off her clothes and folded them on the sand. There was no soap. But the salt will clean my skin just as well. She swam in the early morning calm of the bay. The chilled water prickled her skin but within a few moments her body adjusted and, laughing, she kicked her legs. After the crisp bathe, she walked back to her stream and sat in a cool pool of water to wash the salt from her skin. She took her old clothes and scrubbed them, then hung them out on the warming rocks outside her cave before changing into fresh ones.
After a quick breakfast of tea and bread she began her search for a rudder. She entered the woods and scanned the forest floor for a branch, or something that would work to steer the boat. A flat root system had the right shape, but attempting to lift it proved difficult, it broke apart, rotten. She tried hacking a branch from a tree with her little axe but the wood was too heavy. She must have searched for nearly two hours before she noticed a movement amongst the trees.
Squinting, she shaded her eyes with her hand. Trees and dappled light. She sighed and kept searching.
Then she saw it again, a movement. She walked further, peering through the trees. There was a shadow. The shape of an arm? There’s someone there. A shot of adrenalin sent her heart pacing. She walked quicker, trying to keep quiet. She didn’t want to reveal herself; they could be dangerous.
Through the leaves she made out a flash of purple, skin and more shadow. Should I call out? But they may not be friendly. She followed, walking deeper into the woodland. The sound of water flowed around her, growing louder.
Soon she found a waterfall. Like liquid crystal it fell into a large pond, clear flowing glass. In the centre stood a rock, an island in the middle of the pond. And on that rock sat her sprite, smiling and waving.
“You again!” Dale said. “Am I mad?”
The sprite shrugged and skipped over the water, kicking up little crystal droplets with her feet.
Dale’s eyes widened and she sucked in her breath at the sight of the little creature skipping over water. “Wow.”
Finally she mad
e it onto the land and stood right in front of Dale. Dale knelt down and the creature wrapped her little arms around her neck, giving her a hug. It reminded her of the night she’d hidden from the hawk. The sprite’s touch was light and cool.
Then she was off again, skipping along a narrow path that skirted the pond and headed toward the fall.
“Wait, where are you going?” Dale shouted.
But the sprite continued on without looking back.
“Hey, come back.” Dale followed but when she got to the waterfall she lost track of her. “Where’d she go?”
Dale massaged her neck. What am I supposed to do now? All this magic stuff was interesting but nothing was clear. She leaned on the rock wall and looked around. As she studied the fall, a light came from behind the watery veil. She frowned. Could it be?
She walked toward the falling water. A track led behind the waterfall. The rocks were slippery, but she put a hand on the damp wall and steadied herself. Within five steps she was behind the fall. She stood, open-mouthed as she watched the beauty of the cascade. Light reflected at all angles, like a Christmas tree. A fine mist tickled her face.
Then she turned and saw an exit through the rock that led to more woodland – and there was the sprite, smiling and waving. Dale shook her head. “She could be a little more helpful,” she muttered, stepping forward to follow again.
The sprite skipped on through the woods and Dale followed until they came to a beach. The glimmering ocean shone in the afternoon sun. This place is definitely an island then. Dale guessed they were now standing on the opposite side of the island to where Joy now sat.
“So why did you bring me here?” Dale asked the sprite.
The little creature smiled and pointed over Dale’s shoulder. Dale turned. There, on the beach, about twenty yards away, lay something on the sand. She squinted. “What is it?” she muttered, stepping closer.
The sprite bounded ahead. A pile of white driftwood lay across the sand. Dale peered at it and realised it wasn’t driftwood – they were bones.
“Whale bones?” Dale asked.
The sprite nodded and jumped onto a bone. Dale examined it. It looked like the small fin bone of a baby whale, maybe. It had a distinct shape – a long ‘handle’ followed by a broad curving plate. Dale’s eyes widened.
“It’s a rudder, isn’t it?”
The sprite nodded and bounced with more enthusiasm. Dale grinned and laughed to the sky. “Yes, I have a rudder!”
Dale picked up the rudder to feel its weight. “It’s not bad.” She inspected the underside and imagined how she could attach it to Joy. “I think it’s possible.”
The sprite nodded again. Dale considered her, squinting in the bright light.
“I don’t think you are part of my dreams. I think I actually see you.”
The sprite shrugged her shoulders.
“If I gave you a name, would you appear whenever I called you?”
The sprite nodded.
Dale considered. “All right. I name you Esme. Short for Esmeralda.”
Esme danced and skipped and clapped her hands, then disappeared.
Dale blinked.
“Esme!” she called.
The sprite reappeared and threw her little ephemeral arms around Dale’s neck.
20
After a late breakfast Dale called Esme and the sprite appeared in the cave. Cat hissed and Esme hissed back. Before Dale could blink Cat launched into an attack and he and the sprite were a tumble of violence.
“Cat! Stop it!” Cat yelped and ran to the back of the cave to begin vigorous preening.
The sprite wore a smug smile.
Looks like we have a problem, Dale thought.
She picked up the whale bone and strode out of the cave. “C’mon, you two, we’ve got work to do.”
At the beach Dale tried to work on Joy but kept getting distracted by the antics of Cat and Esme. The sprite was dancing on the shoreline and chasing the water as it washed up onto the beach. But Cat was equally engaged in this game and pounced on her more than once. Esme retaliated by pulling his tail. Cat screeched. Dale had had enough and chased them off each other for the third time. “All right, you two. That’s it. Esme, go look for butterflies in the forest. I’ll speak to you later.” The sprite disappeared in an instant. Then she turned to Cat. “Cat, scat!” and he stalked away with his tail low, ears slicked back.
“Maybe now I can get some work done.”
The epoxy had stuck hard, but bulged out like toffee. She began sandpapering and put all her effort into it. After thirty minutes sweat beaded on her top lip and her elbow ached, but the epoxy had only reduced by a millimetre at the most. She squinted. This is going to take me all summer at this rate.
She stood and decided to work on the rudder problem instead. Picking up the whale bone, she walked to the stern. It seemed about the right size. The bone curved nicely off the back of the boat. I think it will work. She bit her lip. But how will I attach it? Ropes?
She put the bone down on the beach, looked through her provisions and picked up two screws. Maybe I can screw it to the tiller somehow, that would be better.
A sudden screech made her jump and drop the bone. She looked around, both Cat and the sprite had returned. They were in full combat. Esme had her arms around Cat’s throat. Cat had his mouth clamped down on Esme’s pretty purple dress.
“I told you two to stop that!” Dale moved forward but her little friends were deaf to her pleas. Esme grabbed Cat’s tail and gave it a yank causing the tom to howl. He twisted sharply, freeing himself from her grip and swatted her with one clawed paw.
Dale sucked her breath as she saw the crimson line of blood seep from the gash in the sprite’s arm. Esme seemed to whimper. Dale imagined the sound of her cry.
“Esme, are you alright?”
Esme stomped her foot and pouted as she shook her head. She pointed to the red scratch on her arm, and then disappeared.
Dale blinked. “Will I ever get used to that vanishing act?”
She turned. Cat was sitting on the sand, grooming again. “Are you happy, Cat? You hurt her.”
He didn’t even bother looking up as he licked his forepaw and brushed the back of an ear.
Dale shook her head and went back to Joy.
In the end Dale gave up on the rudder problem and used the rasp to file back the epoxy. It proved much quicker than the sandpaper. She switched back to the sandpaper for finishing touches, and as the late afternoon sun shone on the waters she felt a flush of pride as she inspected her work. The epoxy filling was now smooth and glinted amber.
“Good job, Dale, even if I do say so myself.”
She packed away her repair kit and set Joy back on the sand, then walked down to the water’s edge to wash her hands. A sharp tug on her shirt made her spin around. Esme seemed panicked.
“What’s wrong? Has Cat hurt you again?” Dale examined the little sprite’s arm where Cat had clawed her, but there was no sign of a scratch. It had healed.
Esme shook her head violently and stamped her feet. She pointed toward the north and up into the sky. She flapped her arms and opened her mouth with a snarl, her delicate fangs prominent.
Dale’s heart stopped. “The hawk.”
Esme nodded and put her hands to her mouth. Her wide eyes looked from Dale to the sky and back again.
Dale threw the canvas over the boat. She opened her second sight briefly and noted that Joy appeared as one of the rocks. This made her feel better.
“Come on, Esme, we better get to the cave.” Dale bolted, kicking up sand as she ran. Once in the woodland she felt safer, but then she heard the squawk. It took her back to that moonlit night when she first hid from the hawk. Ice bolted along the back of her neck. Run faster.
Finally, she came to the stream. She paused to look up at the platform, the cave’s entrance. Her breathing rasped loud in her throat and burned. Cat paced, back and forth on the platform, like a lion at the zoo. She pressed on, skipping o
ver the slippery stones of the stream. But her feet were nervous and she slipped and fell. A sharp pain stabbed her ankle and she screamed. Esme slapped her hand to her little forehead and danced a jig of panic. She pulled on Dale’s hand, jumping up and down.
The pain burned, but the screech of the hawk came closer and adrenalin shot through Dale’s veins, making her move. She stood on her good leg but the pain returned in double when she tried to put weight on the injured ankle. She slapped her hand to her mouth to stifle the scream that threatened.
The hawk squawked again. Dale looked up. The tall trees hid the view of the dusk sky, yet Dale knew somehow that she would be in full view of the bird if it flew over now. But her ankle could take no weight.
She scrambled on her hands and one foot. Her knees scraped against the jagged edges of the rocks. But she made it to the platform where Cat greeted her with a muted purr before stalking into the cave where he meowed and prowled once more.
The screech of the black hawk returned and Dale followed Cat into the cave, crawling awkwardly on her hands and knees.
They sat as close to the entrance as they dared. Dale was grateful that the fire had burned out and darkness fell around them. The screech came again and the sprite ran to the back of the cave with her hands over her eyes as she had done that other night. Cat stood like an Egyptian statue, staring with a serene stillness at the darkening sky. He knows too, Dale thought.
Then it came into view – a great aquiline form that glided gracefully over the high tips of the spruce and pines that lined the valley. Dale’s heartbeat thrummed in her ears; she bit hard on her bottom lip.
The hawk circled over the valley, once then twice. Its head moved as it scanned the woodland floor. Its squawk pierced and Dale had an urge to put her hands on her ears, but she remained still like a statue, like Cat.