They all continued to mill about in random succession, gathering what they thought were necessary to survive the trip. They were still doing so when Mr. Patas returned, his face downcast and sorrowful. None of them noticed at first, but upon hearing the first of his falsetto-toned words, they eventually stopped and turned to look in his direction
“I am afraid we will not be traveling anywhere this day.”
“Why, Mr. Patas?” inquired Kenai, closest to the rabbit-man. Her gravelly voice echoed throughout the cave.
“Because, great Canine, a storm of great fury rages just outside these warm confines,” he began. “A storm so powerful and hateful, none of us, not even the mightiest of the Fist, could survive long exposed to its’ tempestuous forces. We are stuck here, it would seem, for the foreseeable future.”
“Fuck!” howled Andrew, dropping everything he had been holding in his arms. He stalked off toward the back of the cave, longing and misery getting the better of him yet again.
Even from the distance between them, Mikalah could still manage to hear his sobs.
Andrew was already sick of the Melded World.
I don’t blame him.
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~ 62 ~
Snowbound
Day Two, Friday, 7:30 am…
He left the cave for the second time in as many minutes, uncomfortable over being the bearer of such disappointing tidings. Unable to bear the despondency in the chamber, he thought it prudent to check the weather again. It was important his initial ascertainment was confirmed, at least to him it was. The moment he stuck his head around the heavy furniture pad hanging across the portal of the cave, though, he knew his first assessment had been spot on. The wind was shrieking like a banshee, driving the snow horizontally with such force, he could barely make out it was snow in the first place. In the narrow passage leading from the cave, the air swirled, eddied, like a handful of mini-tornados, forming and un-forming right before his eyes. There were deep drifts, piled against either side of the rocky formation. Ahead, beyond the great boulder concealing the cleft leading to their sanctuary, it appeared as though a solid sheet of white was blocking the way beyond. The violence of the storm made it impossible to pierce, even with eyes as powerful as his. He could feel the cold radiating toward him from the landscape itself. This was, by far, the coldest temperature he had felt in the Melded World to date.
There was no chance of survival out there now.
No, we are going nowhere this day, he grunted internally as he let the thick blanket fall into place behind him. The wind and precipitation in the cut of rock where he stood was tolerable against his thick coat of hair and hide, though he did let his ears droop closer to each side of his head to conserve his warmth, just in case. Slowly, he eased his way forward against the outer rock face to see if he could discern anything in the forest. He managed no more than a few steps, realizing it was no use. The wind was getting stronger, the temperature of the air was dropping surreptitiously further. The snow began to sting against the small portions of skin exposed on his face. He knew it was a fruitless task. The storm was too strong.
Hopefully too strong for the enemy as well, wished the rabbit-man as he stopped moving forward, glancing around to see if there was anything else he might be able to do to improve their situation. Any advantage they could garner would be most welcomed.
He glanced at the snow beginning to gather along the bottom edges of the passageway. His nose twitched as he contemplated what to do about it. He was a little agitated over the nervousness surging through him, keeping him from thinking clearly. He frowned, remembering another time in another place where he had not a care in the world, where the very idea of being uneasy was totally ridiculous. He leaned back against the icy boulders, the images of his cage springing to life in his mind’s eye. Once more, he could feel the warmth of the sun against his fur, stroking ever so gently against his covered skin. There had been nothing to worry or fret about back then, only play and food and drink, and the occasional petting session from one of his many masters. He recalled how Elena had often twirled his ears and scratched them to calm him down when one of the others was cleaning out the bottom tray of his cage where all of his droppings fell. He had liked those times when all it took was a soothing voice and a comforting touch to make the world right again. His masters had cared for him deeply and made sure he was safe, always.
In the height of summer, when the temperature soared, they would come out and spray him with a misting water bottle. They would do this every other hour during the hottest parts of the day to ensure he stayed cool and didn’t overheat. In the winter and the rainy season, they would cover his cage with blankets and old towels to make sure they cut the chill of the wind and the wet spray of the rain out of his cage and off him as well. Every morning, one of them had always popped his or her head out of the back door to greet him, to talk to him briefly, to let him know his masters were thinking of him and soon one of them would come out to feed him. Sometimes, they would bring fresh lettuce or one of the many different stick-like treats covered in grains and kernels he liked so much. Three times a week, they came out with his ambrosia – large, bright orange carrots that he could smell the moment they were brought from the house. In seconds, he would be driven to near madness with the anticipation of tasting one of those succulent roots. He would leap and bound about the cage with much enthusiasm, making whoever was about to feed him giggle with delight. The cage door would open, the carrot presented to him and he would waste no time. He would quickly, almost aggressively, grab the carrot away with his large front teeth. He would take it to one of the remote corners of the cage and eat to his heart’s content. Sometimes, he’d gorge himself until his stomach felt like it was about to burst. He hadn’t cared, though. Back then, life had been simple, surviving was easy when everything was handed to you, when you weren’t in your own care. He hadn’t been intelligent enough to know the difference. Being tall, able to walk upright and wield an intellect infinitely more vast than before were advantageous. Of that there was no doubt, but still, having no worries was a must easier way to exist. It still wouldn’t be living, you floppy-eared buffoon…
Mr. Patas stood there looking over the clusters and lumps of snow, wondering what to do next. He couldn’t decide. All because of this gripping, neurotic fear, that seemed to freeze him into immobility. The only thing coming to mind was – as the saying went – ignorance was indeed bliss. Nothing mattered when you didn’t know it was supposed to matter in the first place.
From behind him, out in the frozen land where the storm raged, there came a loud crackling sound, followed by a resounding thump. Something very heavy and large smashed onto the ground.
Instinctively, Mr. Patas trained his great ears in that direction, though nothing was visibly discernible beyond the great boulder. He could hear the distinct crack and snap of wood breaking, and immediately surmised one of the tall pines surrounding the immediate area must’ve fallen. He shook his furry head to and fro despondently, for with every passing minute the tempest seemed to grow worse. It might be days before we leave this place. Something will have to be done before too long, he realized, wondering what the Guardians were going to do about it. At least they have plenty to eat.
“Mr. Patas is everything alright?” came the loud peal of Kenai’s voice over the howl of the wind. Her huge brown eyes displayed concern and curiosity at the same time. “My mother was inquiring about you within.”
Mr. Patas smiled with a brief, self-conscious grin, rubbing his hands together before his chest, letting his ears droop once more. “I just needed to confirm whether or not my earlier assessment of the storm was accurate. After seeing how crestfallen the Guardians appeared once I announced we wouldn’t be leaving the cave any time soon, I just had to make sure,” he replied almost shyly, though it was difficult to convey shyness when the air was screaming all about.
Kenai glanced around, her eyes lingering at the thin sli
ce of visible sky the longest, then her head came back down to consider Mr. Patas, a compassionate look about her.
Mr. Patas could sense she was sympathetic to his discomfort, through the thread-like, mental connection existing between them because they were of the same Fist. She already knew he was a sensitive being.
“And what say you now, Rabbit-man?” she asked with a twist of a jowl, clearly knowing the answer.
Mr. Patas sighed and smiled thinly. “I was right, great Canine, even now the storm grows in strength and malice. There is no way any of us could survive long in such a ghastly gale. Not even the enemy would fare well I deem. For the time being, it seems as though both sides are at a standstill.”
“That is a good thing, is it not?” inquired Kenai, tilted her head to one side.
“Yes, despite the fact the Guardians wanted to move decisively and as soon as possible, I think it might be a good idea to hunker down and regain our composure and strength from the traumatic, if not tragic, occurrences of this past day,” Mr. Patas commented with a nod or two.
“I agree, my friend, but why come back out to double-check if you knew all of this already?” Kenai stepped forward, her eyes bright despite the dark clouds above.
The rabbit-man half-turned to the side, his hand coming up to his nearly non-existent chin, his long thin fingers feeling through the longer fur growing there. “I just hate to see them disappointed more than is necessary, Kenai. They have gone through so much. They are upon the verge of comprehending the responsibility they now must bear. With the fate of so many in their hands, it just bothers me to see them unnecessarily saddened. They do not need added negativity in their lives right now.” His voice filled with genuine remorse.
Kenai empathized with her fellow Fistian, but this was the Melded World and it was the Great Maelstrom hunting them now. “This task will be fraught with hardship, dismay and, quite possibly, death, Mr. Patas. Even though the children will suffer from time to time against our hopes and desires, we must always show strength and courage, if we are to be of any real assistance to them. We are the Fist, formed from the Fingers of the Light, my good friend. We will always be at the side of the Guardians, fighting the Storm until the ancient Snowman is cast back into his world for all of time,” explained the bear-dog, her tone determined but forged in kindness and assurance. “We cannot rest until this is accomplished. We must see this through. Even if it means we must be strong on the children at times, then so be it. We must always show them the good in any event, if we are to prevail here.”
Mr. Patas looked at the snow-strewn ground in deep thought, still rubbing at his hairy chin. He peered over at Kenai, from the corner of his eyes, through the cascade of white flakes. “You have within you, Kenai, the ability to be a great Fist Leader one day.”
Kenai howled with laughter at that. The massive barrel of her chest heaved with great breaths of joviality as she pointed her chin skyward.
Mr. Patas smiled broadly at the display.
After a few minutes, Kenai, still gurgling with the odd chuckle, uttered, “I think I still have a long, long way to go before I am anywhere near that of my mother, Fist-mate.”
“Not as long as you would think, great Canine,” retorted Mr. Patas. He was quite serious now, looking at her more directly than before. His head was tilted downward as if he wished for his thoughts on the matter to be considered.
Kenai continued to rumble with giggles. “Well, nonetheless, Mr. Patas, you are at least most kind for saying so.”
“And thank you for your words of advice and encouragement,” he stated, almost too quietly to be heard above the wind.
“You are most welcome… So, now what are we about out here in the cold?” she asked glancing around.
“I’m not quite sure,” he began, recalling what he had been thinking before the bear-dog had joined him. “I was wondering earlier, what we could do about all of the snow piling up here in this tiny crevasse.”
Kenai glanced around as well, her brows furling at Mr. Patas quandary. “Well, it is not likely we will be able to stop it from drifting, for it will continue to deepen. There is just too much volume falling from the heavens to make it otherwise.”
“That’s it!” he exclaimed of a sudden.
“That’s what?” questioned the bear-dog, her frown thickening the fur above her eyes.
“We do not have to contest the snow, let us encourage its’ drifting and completely insulate the cave from the storm.” He paused to demonstrate what he was talking about. “We can pile the snow so it will block the whole entrance of the cave and act an added layer of protection from the elements outside. No matter how far the temperature plunges, we should remain safe behind the barrier, snug and warm until the tempest passes and we can, once more, walk freely about the land.”
“That is a great idea, Mr. Patas! Let’s be about it, so we can get inside as quickly as possible,” said Kenai excitedly.
With that, the two members of the Fist began to gather the snow into large mounds and began to build the wall of snow against the violent climate of the Melded World.
~~~~~~~~<<<<<<{ ☼ }>>>>>>~~~~~~~~
~ 63 ~
Not all Things Stay the Same
Day Two, Friday, 7:51 am…
She opened her eyes and was a little surprised to find she was lying atop a pile of empty fifty-gallon, burlap bags still reeking of onions and potatoes, though the produce had long been emptied. She rubbed at the morning residue about her eyes, clearing the annoying debris, realizing she wasn’t at home. She wasn’t in her plush queen-sized bed, between her one-thousand-thread-count, satin sheets, beneath the gossamer canopy of brilliant rose silk. It was the over powering smell of fish that gave it away. Her bedroom usually smelled of jasmine or lavender, depending on her mood.
No, she wasn’t at home. She wasn’t anywhere close to home. She was in the Fish Market that dominated the lower, middle portion of the Eagle Rock Plaza. The precise place where she’d fallen asleep the night before, after she’d downed a couple of beers.
She and the others had decided to drink them in hopes they’d render themselves unconscious and allow their frantic minds a thin slice of rest. At the end of what had to be deemed the worst day of her life, she needed it.
They all had.
The beers had worked like a charm.
She grinned at the memory of them all tossing and turning upon the produce bags for more than two hours, recalling it had been Kimberly Madison who’d sat up, saying something about she’d had enough. The teenager had stomped over to the refrigerated section of the market with their only source of light, a large flashlight she had found in the storage area of the store.
Kim had come back with a six-pack of Modelo beers, saying, “We should each down two of them, real fast, or we’re never gonna get to sleep.”
Hyun had stared at her though the upturned beam of the portable light.
Derek Benson had looked from her to Kimberly, repeating the gesture a few times, his head on a swivel. His face displayed shock at Kimberly’s suggestion. Being the youngest of them, it hadn’t surprised Hyun in the least. He was only fourteen after all. He had probably hadn’t drunk champagne at a family wedding yet. The very thought of drinking an alcoholic beverage might very well have put the fear of God in him.
She had smiled weakly at him, those thoughts twinkling behind her eyes.
Then, she had turned to look over at the other girl without expression. She had been so tired and misused at that point of the day. She had no intention of suggesting an alternative method for helping them sleep. She had merely accepted Kimberly’s logic as sound and stuck out her hand.
The black-haired girl smiled briefly when Hyun remained silent and quickly gave her two of the shout, blue-labeled bottles of Modelo. She placed two more in front of Derek, leaving the last two for her.
“Do you think we should?” the boy had asked with a nervous quiver in his voice, his eyes searching over Hyun’s broad face, searching for
approval.
Kimberly had rolled her eyes and - out of nowhere - produced a bottle opener, and quickly uncapped the beer she’d been holding. “Jeez, Derek, don’t go all pussy on us now, we have to get some rest,” and with that she took a long pull of the brew.
Hyun smiled to herself, grabbed the opener and popped open one as well. She remembered she’d tipped the bottle toward Derek, saying something lame like “here’s mud in your eye” or “here’s to a good night’s sleep”, but she couldn’t recall exactly. What did come to mind was she had mouthed the opening of the bottle and leaned back, letting the cold liquid drain down her throat. To her surprise, she had drunk nearly half the beer in that first drought. When she had finally come up for air, wiping at her mouth, she’d been thankful that, at times, Kimberly could be brilliant.
She wasn’t a big beer drinker. Actually, she didn’t drink much at all, but such truths didn’t stop her from thinking, at the exact moment, the beer had been the best beer she had ever tasted. Within minutes, she’d felt the tension in her shoulders ease a little and the stiff pain in her spine dull.
She had watched through slightly bleary eyes as Derek mumbled something about not being “a pussy” and opened one of the Modelo’s before him. He took a tentative drink, his face bunching up at the taste, which he clearly had not expected.
“Ugh, how can you guys drink this crap!” he sputtered, shaking his head.
Both of the girls exchanged knowing smiles.
Hyun took another smaller swig.
Kimberly had said: “Dude, this is the good stuff! What’s up with you?!” She had paused to huff a few times, then added softly almost as an afterthought. “It tastes better the more you drink.” After, she had busted with laughter, which in turn made Hyun giggle, though her mouth was still full. She had gulped the last of it down as quickly as she could manage before she began to laugh as well.
The Unwanted Winter - Volume One of the Saga of the Twelves Page 55