FERTS

by Grace Hudson

  “That was really good!” Caltha smiled, patting her scrawny stomach. “I could eat that stuff every night.”

  “That’s good because I think we’re going to. Unless we can find some other things to eat.”

  “Not more cattail roots!” Caltha whined.

  “I like them. They fill you up, just like potatoes.”

  “Yes, well you just don’t know what tastes good and what doesn’t.”

  “I do so.”

  “Do not!”

  Rafaella sighed. She was supposed to be the responsible one and here she was, having a silly argument with a six year old.

  “Look. We’ll try and find some more food tomorrow. Something that isn’t cattail roots. Okay?”

  Caltha looked at her skeptically, uncrossing her arms and slumping to the ground in a cross-legged position.

  “Yeah. Okay. I suppose so. Ooh. I want something sweet!” Her eyes grew bright in the moonlight. “My Ma used to cook strawberries and serve them with cream. It was only sometimes, but I remember them because they tasted so good. She used to grow them out the back in her garden, a traveller once came through with seeds and she made sure to get some. I think she traded a sweater she knitted. He seemed pretty happy with it, he said it would keep him warm on his travels.”

  “I want something sweet too. I really miss desserts.” Rafaella thought of Wes, and his stewed rhubarb. She missed Wes’ cooking, but most of all, she missed the stories he would tell as they sat by the fire after dinner.

  “Do you think we can find something? Maybe some berries?”

  “I don’t know. Wes told me you’ve got to be careful with berries, some of them are poisonous.”

  “How will we know? I don’t want to get poisoned!” Caltha sat upright, alarmed at the prospect.

  “It’s hard to describe. I know some of the poisonous ones, like pokeweed. The berries are shiny and they look almost black. Some plants just look poisonous, I guess you can just tell.”

  “But how can we be sure?”

  “I’m not exactly sure. I think there’s one with five leaves as well. I don’t know what it’s called. But you can look at some berries and they just don’t look like you should eat them. Wes used to tell me only eat the berries you know, like blackberries, blueberries and strawberries, don’t try any of the new ones. So I guess we just don’t try the new ones. That makes it easier I guess.”

  “I guess so.” Caltha made a face. “I like strawberries the best anyway!”

  “Yeah, I can tell that.” Rafaella smirked.

  “You wait. If we find some strawberries, well, we can’t do them with cream, but they are good just on their own. Oh, I hope we find some!”

  “Okay, that sounds good. Let’s get some sleep first, then we’ll go looking in the morning.”

  Caltha shimmied under the blankets and thunked her head down, taking up most of the satchel with her head.

  “Hey, move over!” Rafaella nudged her in the ribs.

  “You move over!” Caltha poked back at Rafaella’s shoulder.

  “Oh, why are you so…” Rafaella took a deep breath, calming herself. “Okay, you have one half and I have the other half. So neither of us takes up more room. Okay?”

  “Okay, fine, okay,” she grumbled, shifting ever so slightly to the side. Rafaella edged her head over to the side of the satchel and fought her annoyance at Caltha by mentally running through the things she was happy about today. They had found some wild asparagus, the blankets were warm, the fire was toasty and they might find some berries tomorrow. She nudged her shoulder slightly to move Caltha off her side of the satchel. Caltha huffed but finally relented, edging back the tiny distance to her own side.

  Wild asparagus, warm blankets, toasty fire. Berries.

  – 39 –

  Another week went by, they had almost completely run through the asparagus and Caltha was clearly having trouble keeping up with Rafaella’s brisk pace. The evening was mild but Rafaella could feel the cold weather on the horizon. The air was crisper and the chill clung to the rocks and the damp ground. Maybe a month from now they would be forced to find a more permanent means of shelter than a fire and blankets on the ground. Thankfully, there had been little rain, and their nights had remained mostly clear and dry.

  This night, the moon was dim, so it made walking a little more difficult than usual. The light reflected off the slowly moving water, providing some much needed illumination to find their way along the river’s edge.

  “Ow!”

  A loud wailing started up, jarring Rafaella from her thoughts.

  Rafaella turned to see a small dark lump in the place where Caltha had been walking. She shuffled back through the blue tinged darkness to find Caltha lying huddled in the grass, knees to her chest.

  “What happened?”

  “I banged my foot on a rock and twisted it. It hurts!”

  “Damn it Caltha! We’ve still got a few hours of walking time left!”

  “I can’t!” she said between sobs, her wails growing increasingly louder. “It hurts!”

  “Okay, okay. Shh, you have to be quiet, we don’t want anybody to hear. Come on.” Rafaella gathered up Caltha’s shivering body and carried her into the adjacent conifer forest by the river.

  “You’re really heavy. How can you be this small and be so heavy at the same time?” Rafaella put on a smile, masking the cold prickle at the base of her spine.

  The trees in the grove were tall enough that they could provide adequate cover in daylight, should they need to stay that long. Caltha whimpered into her shoulder, soaking the fabric and making it sticky on her skin. Rafaella gently laid Caltha down on the ground, rummaging in her satchel for a blanket. She quickly gathered some large twigs and kindling and set about making a fire.

  “It really hurts,” Caltha said, sniffling from beneath her tangle of blankets.

  “Yeah, I know. I’ll take a look at it once I’ve built the fire. I can’t see anything otherwise.”

  Once the fire was alight, she bent down to remove Caltha’s boots. The ankle was fiercely red and swollen to twice its normal size, bulbous and shiny in patches. A dark red strip ran from the side of her heel, almost all the way to her toes.

  “Oh.”

  “Is it bad?” Caltha leaned up on an elbow, attempting to take a look.

  “No, not that bad. I think you need to rest it. I’ll make the dinner this time.” Rafaella hurriedly covered the ankle in warm blankets, trying to keep the fear out of her voice. She didn’t know what to do if someone broke something. Wes had taught her some things about first aid, but this was too big for her to handle on her own.

  “Don’t touch it or move it. You need to keep it in the same spot and rest up. So that means no pawing at it.” She figured if Caltha didn’t actually see how bad it was, then she wouldn’t panic. That was the theory, anyway.

  Caltha snuggled closer in the sheets, tears drying on her face. “You’re going to cook? Blah. I don’t know if I’m hungry anymore.”

  “Very funny. I’ll work something out. You rest. That’s an order.”

  “Yes sir,” Caltha grumbled, tucking her arm under the satchel and staring into the flames.

  Rafaella foraged for food in the underbrush, reluctant to stray from the light of the fire. She stopped under a shaded part of the woodlands and whistled out a low breath.

  “I don’t believe it.” Under her feet were patches of what looked like weeds with little suckers running out, connecting each plant. Dotted within the leaves were bright spots of vibrant, heart-shaped strawberries. Rafaella gathered every single one she could find, using her tunic as a pouch. When she returned she carefully hid them away in a cloth in her satchel.

  She cooked up some cattail roots with the last of the wild asparagus and some spicebush, which she had nibbled on earlier and found she rather liked. She continued stirring it together until the contents of the pot resembled a kind of stew.

  She brought the pot over to Caltha, handing her a spo
on. “Here, dinner’s ready.”

  “Mph?” Caltha’s eyes widened at the sight of the unfamiliar meal before her. “What is this?”

  “Um, I think I’m going to call it spicebush stew.”

  Caltha propped herself on one elbow and demolished half of the stew, only stopping to blow on her spoon so she didn’t burn her mouth. Rafaella finished it off while Caltha grinned at her.

  “That was really good! Maybe you can cook after all.” Her face fell. “Oh, but what will I do?”

  “Don’t worry, you’re be back on cooking duty when you’re up and about again. Oh… I nearly forgot.”

  “What? What is it?” Caltha craned her neck, unable to see what Rafaella was doing, digging around in her satchel. Her face broke into the biggest smile Rafaella had ever seen when she saw the mound of strawberries tucked inside the cloth.

  “Strawberries? Strawberries! Oh wow! Strawberries!” Caltha clapped her hands, attempting to sit upright.

  Rafaella grinned back. “So, are you going to eat them or just talk about them all night?”

  Caltha ate one after the other, barely stopping for a breath. Rafaella marvelled at her enthusiasm, considering they had just finished eating such a large meal.

  “You eat as much as a grown up.”

  “Mmm. Strawberries!”

  “That’s all you can say now. I’m going to have to put up with you answering me in strawberry language.”

  “Wow. Strawberries! Oh, thank you Raf!”

  “Huh?”

  “I said thank you! For the strawberries!”

  “You’re welcome. But I meant what… what did you just call me?” Tears prickled the corner of her eyes.

  “Oh. I called you Raf. Don’t you like it? I think it suits you.”

  She refused to let the tears fall, swiping them away while pretending to push her hair behind her ears.

  “No, I like it. You can call me Raf. It’s just that nobody has ever called me that, except Wes.”

  “Oh. You miss him.” It wasn’t a question. Rafaella nodded, putting a hand on Caltha’s shoulder and giving it a gentle squeeze.

  “You know what? Maybe I should call you Cal. If you want.” Caltha nodded back, smiling widely.

  “Yeah, I’d like that.” She snuggled down under the blankets and shivered slightly.

  “Go to sleep now. Rest up.”

  Rafaella climbed under the blanket, tunic still stained from the strawberry juices. She flopped back on the satchel and looked up at the stars, milky and crowded, stretching out above her like a shimmering blanket.

  “G’night Raf.”

  “Night, Cal.”

  – 40 –

  Rafaella and Caltha had made slow progress on their journey north-east. From what Wes had told Rafaella about the surrounding townships of Forkstream Territory, the township of Lellban, Caltha’s former home, was the last familiar landmark on their journey. Further north-east, following the slightly winding path of the Elan River, they gathered wild chickweed and yet more cattail roots. Caltha’s ankle was not as bad as Rafaella had feared, the angry redness fading to a smudged blue and green, and after a wasted day of rest, Caltha was able to walk, supported by a large stick. Rafaella had tried to carry her on the first day, but found she could not cover enough ground to make the task worthwhile.

  Many weeks had passed, as Rafaella and Caltha settled into a routine of walking half the night and resting until daybreak. They were yet to encounter any others on their journey, but they did not take their good fortune for granted. They kept to covered groves, moving stealthily behind long grasses and reeds. Caltha complained about her ankle, the food, and lack of sleep while each night Rafaella built a fire and planned and plotted the next stretch of their journey.

  This night, they were afforded little cover, and rather than a grove of large trees, they found themselves surrounded by a smattering of small shrubs and long grasses. They hastily cleared the ground to settle in for the night, Rafaella placing rocks in a circle around what would be tonight’s fire pit.

  Thankfully, tonight’s moon was nearing full strength, and Caltha made her way to the river without incident. Her ankle was improving, and it would not do to slip and fall again. She washed the cattail roots and peeled them with her knife, leg outstretched, grumbling as she went. Rafaella gathered grasses and twigs to use as kindling and the largest sticks she could find. Once the fire was underway and the pot began to simmer, Caltha retired to the blankets, stretching out her ankle and rubbing the spot above her heel.

  “How is it?”

  “It hurts still. It’s gone stiff from all the walking I had to do.” Caltha narrowed her eyes at Rafaella.

  “You’re leaning on the stick when you use that ankle, right?”

  “Of course!”

  “Not the other ankle.”

  “Um… I don’t know.”

  Rafaella shuffled closer, edging Caltha further down the blanket.

  “It’s just, if you use the stick when you’re walking on your good ankle, it doesn’t really help, does it?”

  Caltha huffed, rubbing her ankle some more.

  “Do something, Raf. It’s achy.”

  Rafaella carefully removed Caltha’s shoe and sock, placing them on a rock to keep them safe from the slightly dampened ground. She sat at Caltha’s feet, crossing her legs and leaning forward to take a look. The ankle was no longer as gruesome as it had appeared on that first night. The redness had gone, replaced with light blue and green spots and the swelling was much less visible. The ankle looked a little stiff and lumpy, but Rafaella was confident there were no broken bones underneath. She rummaged in her first aid kit, pulling out a small tin of salve, Wes had told her it was made from a mixture of ground up shining willow bark and cow udder cream. It sounded disgusting to Rafaella’s mind, but Wes had sworn by its effectiveness in treating pain, and she had planned to use it on Caltha’s ankle as soon as the swelling had gone down.

  Rafaella scooped out a chunk of salve, digging out a piece around the same size as her thumb. She smoothed the cream on the lumpy bone at the hinge of the ankle.

  “It’s cold,” Caltha muttered.

  “Sorry, it’ll warm up in a minute, just be patient.” Rafaella continued to spread the cream over the areas that had once been swollen, gently kneading and smoothing as she went.

  “It tickles!” Caltha wriggled, trying to get away.

  “It doesn’t hurt as much now?”

  “It’s achy and a bit itchy, but not as bad.”

  Rafaella kept spreading the salve and massaging the area until the sticky mess had been absorbed well enough to make Rafaella’s fingers catch as she rubbed. A sly smile crossed her face and she sneakily moved her fingers underneath the arch of Caltha’s foot, brushing lightly.

  “Aaah! You…” Rafaella moved away, wiping her hands on a piece of cloth and setting the items neatly back in the first aid kit.

  “You… did that on purpose!” Caltha cried out in between cackles.

  Rafaella packed away the kit and moved to tend to the fire.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She hid her smile, eyes trained towards the large sticks piled up next to the fire.

  “You sneak! I’ll get you back! I’ll wait ‘till you’re asleep and then I’ll tickle you!”

  “I’d like to see you try,” Rafaella said, smirking back at her.

  “You won’t see anything! ‘Cause you’ll be asleep!” Caltha crowed.

  “Oh really? Well you…”

  They stopped, heads cocked to the side. A low, whuffling sound had broken the stillness of the night, clearly audible over the rushing of the water.

  “What was that?” Caltha whispered. Rafaella was frozen in place, poised for action.

  Another whuff, and a low bark rang out, followed by a muted growl.

  “It sounds like a dog.” Caltha was pale. “It’s a dog, isn’t it?”

  A fierce howl erupted, a resonant note, echoing off the rocks and shr
ubs surrounding their campsite. Rafaella turned to see a huge black form, furry and dense, powerful muscles rippling under thick, matted fur. Its ears were rounded, its huge heart shaped head yawned open in the bright moonlight, displaying four massive, pointed teeth.

  “Move! Get the stick!” Rafaella shouted, roughly pushing Caltha behind her. The bear tracked Caltha’s movements, eyeing the weakest of the two with interest. It stood on its hind legs, the massive body looming over them, its black fur rippling, a white irregular blaze on its chest, shaped strangely like a bat. Rafaella edged slowly, moving her hand to the side, plucking her satchel from its place atop a flat rock. The bear stood, motionless, eyes following her movements.

  “Hey! Hey! Get out of here!” Caltha’s voice startled Rafaella from her thoughts.

  Caltha had moved to a spot on a high rock where she stood tall, arms and legs outstretched to make herself as big as possible. She wielded the large walking stick in one hand, waving it menacingly in the bear’s direction.

  Caltha. What are you doing. What are you doing.

  The bear startled for a moment, confused. While the bear’s attention was distracted, Rafaella gripped the familiar handle of the Amidal, checked the bullets were loaded and threw the satchel to the side. The bear swung its head around to face Rafaella, its massive neck creasing into gleaming rolls.

  Rafaella raised her arm to the sky and shot. Once, twice, three times.

  Caltha screamed and crumpled on the rock, arms bent at the elbows to cover her head, stick clattering to the ground.

  The bear flinched, eyes squinting closed, then fluttering open with a start. It turned to the left, collapsing on to four legs and lumbering off through the underbrush, its formidable hindquarters loping away into the distance.

  Rafaella rushed to Caltha, hand on her shoulder to check that she was unhurt. Caltha looked up at Rafaella, pale and eyes unfocused in shock. Rafaella pulled her into a hug, feeling Caltha’s tears soaking her shoulder, bleeding through the fabric of her tunic.

  When Caltha had calmed, they retired to the blanket before the fire. Both were unusually cold, shivering together by the heat of the campfire.