by M J Porter
The day turned deepest velvet as the sun set in a rainbow of purples and cyans and it was with a cry of relief that Sereh saw a steading on the horizon. It was locked up tight against the continuing bad weather but she could not fault her friend for not having pulled back the wooden shutters which hung over the windows from the inside. At this time of the rotation, food and fuel would be in scarce supply and it was common sense to keep the house locked up tight for as long as possible. In a few short weeks, the entire steading would be cleansed of its Long Night smell, and she looked forward to helping her friend accomplish the back breaking work. She hoped that her husband would let her stay. Then she banished the thought. It would not do to sour the day with her fears. She needed to enjoy today for what it was.
She redoubled her efforts and her breath came fast and unrhythmically as she forced herself onwards, the backpack was digging uncomfortably into her shoulder blades, and her own pack which she carried in her hand, hung limp on the end of her straining fingers. Only a few more steps she told herself. She was unaware of anything other than reaching the warmth of her friends home. She had even forgotten about Arrow, who had stopped and was looking apprehensively at the steading. So engrossed was Sereh on simply getting there that she was almost on top of the building before she realised that there was something terribly wrong. The farm looked broken. The roof was no longer completely covering the low structure and as she walked ever closer she could make out the dark wooden skeleton of the house against the stark white of the surrounding snow, and the smell of burning wood and flesh suddenly registered in her exhaustion fuddled mind. With an anguished cry she ran the last short distance and then crumpled to the snow covered ground in a sagging, out of breath sob. The steading was burnt – all of it apart from the annexe. That meant only one thing. Oh Gods, no, she thought frantically to herself. Oh Gods no. Not Estrith and her husband and her beautiful children. Not her only friend in the world.
Arrow had now walked past her and was busy sniffing around, her tail firmly between her back legs. She was unhappy and Sereh knew why. The smell of death and decay would be strong for her wolf friend. Sereh staggered to her feet. She must look. She must check. Maybe it was a mistake, maybe the steading had caught fire accidentally and everyone had survived in the remaining annexe.
It wasn’t a mistake. Even in the frozen conditions she could strongly smell the decaying bodies which the fire had not totally destroyed as she walked closer to the steading. She stumbled inside the burnt shell of the building through the door that hung haphazardly off its hinges, and through the tunnel which was destroyed at the junction with the door, but which still stood, albeit separated, from the rest of the house. She immediately saw it all. The broken and burnt bodies discarded where they had fallen from their beds as the upper level of the farm had collapsed and the blackened frame of half of the roof of the steading which had survived. The half which still stood groaned ominously under the weight of snow which covered the grassed roof. The contrast between the stark white and deepest black imprinted itself on her mind, as she gazed, almost uncomprehendingly, around her. What had happened here? Why were the bodies so disturbed? Why wasn’t the building either still standing, or totally burnt down?
She stepped further into the remains of the living area and schooled herself to not look at the broken remains of the bodies. She tried to not look at the agonised look on the face of a small boy, who had been tumbled from his bed, his legs still encased in the blankets that had tried to keep him warm in life. She tried not to look at the double bed where she knew Estrith lay, eyes thankfully closed, but tossed upside down when the second storey of the house had collapsed. All this she tried not to do, whilst at the same time, looking for some explanation to the bizarre way she now found her friends steading. Her footsteps crunched as she walked, and she purposefully, did not look down. She did not wish to know what she stood on.
Arrow did not come inside the steading. She was whimpering softly to herself as she stood just clear of the door and outside of the tunnel. She too could more than clearly smell what had happened here, but there was something else too. Her grey flecked tail still pressed tightly against her back legs, and a low growl was coming from her mouth. Sereh looked at her questioningly, as she stepped further inside the desolation that had been her friends home and family. Then her eyes glanced again at the young boys face and she abruptly covered her mouth, and fled back the way she had come, brushing past Arrow in her haste to leave the steading, and vomit onto the clean snow. The boy. She had only swept a glance when she had first entered, and then resolutely turned away before she could see the ravages of the wolf attack on his face, which was only half there. Only the one eye gazed imploringly at her. The other was missing an ear, an eye, and his brains shone clearly grey in the dim light. She heaved, and vomited, time and time again. Arrow came to her and offered her support, and she gratefully clutched her wolf to her. Sobbing and heaving in equal measure. What by the Gods had happened here?
Arrow finally left her, and walked inside the farm. She was gone for a short time, whilst Sereh tried to regain her calm. Her face was drenched in sweat and yet she shivered through her heavy layers of furs. Her vomit spread before her, bright red from her earlier meal, and as she glanced at it, her stomach further clenched but there was nothing further to come out.
She had sunk to her knees in the deep snow, and now felt the chill of the substance seeping through her trousers and she hastily stood, and wiped what remained stuck to her knees, off her. She looked around for Arrow, but whatever she was doing, she was not yet finished doing it.
Her thoughts returned to what she had just seen. It looked to her as if her friends had died, and the wolves had then come and attacked the steading. But why was it burnt? She had looked for footprints today as she had walked this way, hoping that she would meet no one now that she was on one of the more commonly walked paths. She had seen nine. She had not wished to be seen by anyone until she had reached Estrith’s and received her acceptance of help. So why was the farm burnt, in even such a haphazard fashion? Who could have done this?
She called softly for Arrow. The day was becoming increasingly dark and she needed to decide what her actions would now be. The wolf did not come at her summons. Calling again, she walked back towards the door way of the steading. She did not want to go in there again and yet felt the need to find her wolf. Surely she was in there. Where else would she have gone? She halted at the broken door, and called more softly for Arrow. She was met by a quiet whine, and looking into the now nearly dark room, she could just make out her wolf, crouched over something on the floor. Hope flared momentarily and she walked boldly into the room. Perhaps Arrow had found someone alive. She had not. In fact exactly the opposite. What she had found were the burnt remains of what must have been a huge midnight black wolf. Its fur was singed around its face although other than that there was little damage apart from what Arrow was doing. Almost looking apologetically at Sereh, Arrow was worrying at the meat on the wolfs belly and had managed to wrench it open with her powerful jaws and was greedily eating the meat she found there. Sereh wanted to be disgusted with her. Yet, really all she was doing was taking advantage of available meat. Sereh looked at her and offered her a small smile. She walked away, back outside. She should not have gone inside.
In the distance, the first stars were appearing, and Sereh noticed with relief that there were no snow clouds lying close to the ground. It would be a night free of snow, for the first time since the Sun first rose, but that would make it bitterly cold. She needed to find shelter for the night, and it was not going to be amongst the burnt and broken home of her friend.
In the last light of the day, her eye focused on the still standing annexe. It was attached to the main steading however the fire had stopped well short of it. She called softly to Arrow again, and this time heard her soft footfalls padding towards her. When the wolf drew level, she placed her nose inside Sereh’s hand, as if asking for forgiveness.
“Come on girl. It’s of no matter. You were only doing what needed to be done to stay alive. Lets see if we can find shelter inside the annexe. I am not going back in there”, and here she jerked her head in the direction of the half standing steading, “and we must find shelter for the night. We can not make it back to our cave of last night. The stars are not bright enough”.
She hefted her abandoned back pack back in to place, and picked up the other one, and dragged it behind her as she took the short amount of steps to where she knew the outer door to the annexe stood. As she walked, she glanced at the structure before her. It appeared sound. She trudged through the slush created by the fire, now again frozen hard but in small pieces, to the entrance to the standing annexe. She pushed open the door and it swung inwards easily. Arrow nipped past her feet, her nose to the ground and cautiously sniffed the entire place. She let out no noise of concern and Sereh followed her in, dumping the backpacks unceremoniously on the floor. The place seemed sheltered and reasonably sturdy but she tested this by leaning on the doorframe, hard and then she went inside pulling the door closed behind her. Complete darkness descended and Arrow yelped in surprise. Sereh re-opened the door a fraction and scooted about in her borrowed backpack looking for Erann’s heat stone. She found it and placed it on the floor. A dull orange glow appeared and Sereh pulled the door shut again. There was a wooden lock that she slipped through the holders to either side of the door. She was taking no chances. She did not fancy being the live part of a wolf feast, if they should choose to return.
That done she dragged the by now excruciatingly heavy backpacks to the back wall and leaning against it, slowly sank to the dry dirt floor. Her thoughts were a blur of conflicting images, hopes and realities. In her deepest heart she grieved for her only friend and her family whilst her head thought only of herself. What was she to do now? Where would she go? Who could she turn to? She realised she was crying great, dry, hacking tears and Arrow slid up to her to offer what support she could. Sereh pulled the warm wolf’s body towards her and cried into her white and black fur, only becoming aware of Arrow’s moulting when great handfuls of fur came away in her hands and made her sneeze uncontrollably. It was not easy to sneeze and sob at the same time. Somehow, Sereh managed it competently.
After what seemed a long time, her grief quietened and her sneezing subsided. Arrow looked at her with her sorrowing yellow eyes and sat, practically on her lap. Sereh’s stomach rumbled and she hiccuped a laugh. She pulled open Erann’s backpack and extracted a pot of curdled blood and some more peat cakes. She stood, a bit unsteadily and walked to the heat stone. She puts Arrow’s fur on it that she had gathered as she had cried and pulled up some dry animal bedding from the corner of the annexe to add to her pitiful fire. It would do to warm the blood and then she would sleep. She did not want to risk going outside for wood or turf from the burnt remains of the steading. It was too dark and she worried the wolves would be back by now.
The presence of the wolves made her wonder. It was rare for them to come to the areas where people lived. Normally they fended for themselves in the colder and less accessible Odedahraun range. If they were foraging here then their food supplies must have run low as well. Just how long had the Long Night lasted this rotation? If her friends were dead and the wolves were straying it must have been considerably longer than she had realised. The thought gave her some comfort, accounting for her attachment to the baby. She fought to control a fresh batch of tears as she thought of him. She hoped he had not suffered before he died.
Her meal was barely warm when she decided she could wait no longer. She and Arrow ate quickly and silently. Sereh found it hard to even chew, so much had changed since the excitement of her morning meal, and she found herself forcing the food down and purposefully not thinking of what it looked like when it had come back up again earlier. Arrow did not share her despair, happily munching on her food before curling up next to Sereh ready to sleep. Sereh finally finished forcing herself to eat, found her fur from her back pack and settled down to sleep. She hoped sleep would come quickly, whilst doubting that it would. She was wrong. In only a few heartbeats her eyes fell shut and she thank fully dreamt of nothing.
* * *
A scrabbling noise startled her wide awake and she immediately became aware of Arrow stood, upright and rigid, in front of her, her yellow eyes whirling angrily. She had no idea what part of the night it was but from the supreme effort it had taken to open her eyes, she knew she could not have been asleep for long. Her eyes were burning, heavy and itchy.
She feared she knew what had woken her and as a howl split the night, she had her fears confirmed. The wolves, they were back. She looked about desperately in the remaining light from the small fire. The wooden door was still closed and she could hear no scurrying of animals immediately outside. She hoped that the wolves were at the site of the destroyed steading, but she had no way of checking without going outside herself.
She looked around frantically and caught sight of a ladder leading to the left. She realised that there must be loft access from here. She pushed herself up and walked on legs grown heavy with fear and fatigue to the ladder. She tried the bottom two rungs with her sealskin boot and then, deciding it was safe, climbed up. The area was small, probably just big enough for her and Arrow. She wondered what it had been used for storing. She returned to the ground floor and grabbed hold of Arrow, who was stood quietly whining, her tail firmly down between her back legs, keen for a fight. She stood rigid and unmoving, sensing where the wild wolves were. Sereh pulled her roughly by the neck and finally, after much tugging, she started to move. Sereh pointed up the ladder and Arrow looked to refuse. Sereh sighed and picked her up bodily and flung her over her shoulder before climbing laboriously upwards. She was not leaving Arrow alone to face her wilder siblings. She neared the top, out of breath and trembling from the exertion. Arrow climbed off her, with some dignity, and Sereh crested the last rungs before collapsing on the floor of the loft area, in a quiet heap. She grabbed the ladder and pulled it up besides her. She was taking no risks. Arrow looked at her balefully. Sereh felt no remorse. There was too much wolf in Arrow for her to not want to confront the other wolves. Sereh had to keep her safe. She really was her only friend now.
The single solitary howl of the wolf that had rung out earlier was joined by a cacophony of further wolf voices and Sereh trembled as she clung to the rigid shape of Arrow. It was going to be a long night.
* * *
At some point she must have fallen asleep as she woke later, stiff and cold. Arrow was awake but quiet at her side, keeping her warm as best she could. She couldn’t be sure but she thought some sunlight was leaking through the structure of the annexe as it seemed lighter and there was nothing remaining of last nights fire. She grabbed the ladder and clumsily swung it back into position, almost falling in her efforts, before gingerly climbing down. Arrow jumped down, not wanting to be carried again, and gave her an “I can do it myself” look.
Sereh went to the door and removed the wooden lock, opening it a minuscule amount. Sunlight blinded her. Good, it was day time. The wolves would be long gone by now. Sereh opened the door wide and Arrow streaked past her before she could even think to restrain her for her own good. She followed Arrow out and found her sniffing around the burnt remains of the steading. Sereh decided she did not want to look inside. She did not wish to feel the burn of last night’s meal as it repeated on her. Instead she turned and returned to her temporary shelter of the night before.
She retrieved her backpack and hoisted Erann’s onto her back. As she did so the wrapped package containing his journal tumbled out. She bent to retrieve it and found her fingers unwrapping the package and almost reverentially running her hands over the soft brown cover and cream silky pages inside. She flicked through the journal, again noting the neat columns of numbers, and the handwriting, which was so similar throughout the fifty or so pages that were currently filled. The only indication of the age of th
e writing was the faded ink at the front, which brightened as she neared the last written page.
She flicked back to the beginning of the journal, noting the four rows of numbers, and then again, to the back. She was right. At the back of the journal, there were only two columns of numbers. Intrigued she sank to her knees and slowly scanned each page in turn starting from the back. Page after page revealed itself, with rows of two columns detailing almost the same number in each column. As she neared the middle of the written pages the number 175 fell neatly on both columns, but as she neared the front the number on the one column increased to the detriment of the other and then, with only a few pages to go, there were four columns of numbers, each with a number close to 90. Again, the columns all contained almost the same number. What did it all mean?
She quickly turned to the back page again, and noted that here the numbers on the left hand column were slowly creeping up, whilst those on the right moved down. Whichever way she looked at the numbers, they all added up to about 350, give or take a number or two. What did it all mean? And why were there so many pages of numbers. She wondered if it was some sort of reckoning exercise that Erann had been taught as a child. Was it perhaps a game that he played? Then she felt a flash of inspiration. She made a snap decision. She must find Erann. She must ask him about the journal. After all, she had nowhere else to go.