The Snowy

by Dave Schneider

  “I like surprises,” said Sparky.

  CHAPTER 45

  Harjoring

  EARLY THE NEXT MORNING, Sparky stood in skiyaks facing the three spires, black against the pink sunrise. He was harnessed to a har, holding har reins.

  Tyfoona stood beside him, harnessed to another har.

  This is awesome. He slid his skiyaks back and forth in anticipation.

  Trrad was standing behind the two, glum, staring at Tyfoona’s back.

  Sparky’s har pranced in place under layers of billowing hair, breath rising in clouds, tugging its reins. He’s ready. Me too. Sparky glanced at the harness. Half of it was looped in front of him, held in place by a heavy clip with a lever. The reins stretched out behind him. He looked at Tyfoona. And nodded.

  Tyfoona flicked her reins. She slipped smoothly forward. Her har began to lope. Sparky snapped his reins. His har lunged ahead. Sparky lurched backward, then regained his balance.

  His har settled into a lope, shadowing Tyfoona’s, along the long shoulder of the promontory toward the spires. He gripped the reins firmly, feeling out the strange beast in front of him.

  His skiyaks bounced over the windblown surface, the har’s hair flowing in waves. “Awesome,” he shouted, laughing. He recalled Sam’s instructions:

  To turn left, pull the reins left. To go right, pull right. To go slower, pull both. To go faster, flap both and keep them loose. To go even faster, pull the har’s hair, but not too much. Pull too much and you get a wad of sticky har hair—a good thing in the mouth of a predator, but not on your gloves. Messes up control, big time. To swing out to the side like a waterskier, hit that lever for a long harness.

  Sparky leaned out and looked for Tyfoona. She was heading uphill off the end of the nose. Sparky flapped the reins. His har began to run. Tyfoona saw him gaining. She reached out and grabbed some har hair. Her har leapt forward.

  Tyfoona was pulling away. “Catch her,” grunted Sparky. He grabbed some har hair.

  His har accelerated. “Holy cow...you’re...fast!” he panted.

  A bare spot flashed on the har’s rear end. Patch?

  Sam had told a story. “Zeekeng had a fast har. Liked to tease predators. It had lost lots of har hair from its backside. Left a bald patch. Zeekeng called him Patch.”

  “Go Patch,” shouted Sparky, eyes on Tyfoona.

  She cut left.

  Sparky cut left. Time to waterski. Sparky reached forward and hit the lever. The clip opened, the harness unwound. Sparky slowed for a moment, the reins running through his hands. Here it comes!

  The harness snapped full, wrenching Sparky off the snow, taking his breath away. He flew uphill in wide arc, ran parallel to Patch, then whipped down past him, looking for Tyfoona.

  She was ripping across a flat, the windblown surface riddled with drifts. Sparky cut into her tracks. His knees pumped like pistons over the drift lines. He leaned out. Tyfoona was heading toward a huge drift. At the last moment, she swung to the right of her har. It hopped the drift. She hit it, sailed fifty feet, touched down, fell in behind her har and waved.

  “Next time,” mumbled Sparky.

  Patch cleared the drift.

  Sparky sucked it up with his knees. Twenty feet. Wimp. Blobs of snow splattered over his face and chest. “Har crud!” he spit. He wiped the back of his hand across his goggles.

  Tyfoona pointed to a knoll on her left. “She’s going down?” Sparky wiped his goggles again.

  Tyfoona dropped over the knoll.

  “Okay, okay,” muttered Sparky. “Here goes.” He took a deep breath and pulled left.

  Patch dove.

  Sparky veered to Patch’s right. Wrong side. He tipped his skiyaks to the left and pulled up his toes. The skiyaks dug in, whipped across behind Patch and shot uphill off the snow. Sparky air-twisted his skiyaks to the right, extended his legs, and dropped the tips. The skiyaks sliced downhill to the left of Patch.

  Tyfoona flapped her reins and reached forward.

  Did she just pull hair? Going downhill? Her har shot ahead. She’s sick! Sparky pulled on the reins. But Patch kept running. “You’re racing her, you dog.” Sparky got a glimpse of Tyfoona’s har off to his right. He loosened the reins. Patch leapt ahead. Sparky accelerated.

  He looked for Tyfoona again. Where’d she go? He pulled behind Patch and saw her. She was turning hard to the right. Why? He swung left again, and saw tree tops. A cliff! He pulled hard. Patch cut right. Sparky swung toward the cliff.

  He tipped the skiyaks into the snow, leaned to the right, pulled up his toes and whipped back up behind Patch. Owww, that hurt. Too close. He looked for Tyfoona. There. Can’t lose her. She knows where she’s going. Wait! She’s not from around here. She doesn’t know where she’s going any more than I do!

  Tyfoona slowed down, surveying the terrain ahead. Look before you leap? Good idea. Sparky pulled Patch in behind Tyfoona and swung back and forth, leaving easy figure eights across Tyfoona’s tracks.

  She stopped on the rim of a round basin. Sparky pulled up beside her. Patch nudged her har’s shoulder. Both hars snorted, shook their hair like wet dogs and bellowed abruptly. Sparky flinched.

  Tyfoona laughed. “Fun,” she said, pointing at the beasts.

  Then she became serious. She studied the terrain. Treeless slopes descended from all sides down to a copse of dark evergreens in the bottom of the basin. A tiny cloud floated above the trees. A glimmer of blue peeked through the evergreens.

  A pond with rising steam. “Hot spring?” he asked.

  Tyfoona shrugged, not understanding.

  Sparky pointed, “We go down there?”

  Tyfoona frowned, her mouth twisted in thought. She flicked her har forward and headed across the side of the sloping bowl.

  Sparky followed. Not going down? What’s up? I wish we could talk.

  It was then that Sparky saw a line of tracks. They came from a jumble of giant, snow-covered boulders far up to the right, crossed his and Tyfoona’s path and headed down into evergreens. What made those?

  Tyfoona pulled up before the tracks, Sparky beside her. Both hars tried to turn back, snorting and stomping, but Tyfoona and Sparky held them in place.

  “Easy, Patch,” said Sparky softly. Taking the reins in one hand, he slid past Patch for a closer look.

  The footprints were made by six huge feet, each with six clawed toes. Two holes penetrated the snow under each foot.

  Like crampons. Between the feet snaked...a tail trail? Sparky had seen tracks and tail trails like these in the desert. They had been four-footed lizard tracks, tiny by comparison, and without crampon holes. But these were huge. They headed straight down into the tiny forest. There was no sign of anything coming back. He bent to touch one, then pulled his hand away and coughed. Smells rotten!

  Tyfoona muttered, “Nang!” She pointed back toward the pod compound.

  Sparky stared at the copse then at Tyfoona. She might not be from these mountains, but she knows she doesn’t want to be here. He nodded. I’m with her.

  Tyfoona and Sparky tugged at the reins.

  The two hars spun and quickly trotted back across the slope. They know where they don’t want to be, too. Sparky took one last look at the copse.

  Suddenly the snow exploded just inside the trees. A massive shape leapt into the open and began bounding up the pitch.

  “Tyfoona!” yelled Sparky in a rush of adrenaline.

  She looked, twisted forward and shouted, “Heyahh!” Her har bolted.

  Patch rocketed after it.

  Sparky looked back. Monster lizard. He stared at Patch’s billowing hair, the lizard’s image lodged in his brain. Rippling white fur, brown spots like a seal, tail raised, legs wide to the sides, six huge feet flogging the surface, snow spewing in their wake. He glanced back.

  The monster was gaining, mouth wi
de open, jagged yellow teeth glinting, black tongue flapping.

  “Go, Patch. Go...go...go,” gritted Sparky. Chills spiraled down his spine. He crested the rim of the basin just to the left of Tyfoona.

  She angled her har down the slope to the right.

  She’s making it easier for the lizard to chase her.

  The lizard bounded over the rim and veered toward Tyfoona.

  She glanced at Sparky and pointed uphill.

  He shook his head no.

  “I won’t leave you,” he shouted. He looked back.

  The massive beast was on his right, its left eye following him. Independent eyes.

  Tyfoona angled left toward Sparky, tempting the beast.

  The lizard inched toward Tyfoona, one eye still following Sparky. It extended its neck and snapped at Tyfoona’s legs. Tyfoona swung to the right of her har. The pounding beast focused on her har.

  It’s going to get it. Got to do something! Sparky swung his skiyaks uphill then twisted and accelerated back down past Patch.

  “Airtime!” he yelled. He jumped, slammed his skyaks into the lizard’s left flank, bounced off and shot back up behind Patch.

  The lizard skittered sideways and flipped onto its back, a clump of har hair in its mouth. It scrambled to its feet, clawed at the wad, then glared at the two fleeing hars. Patch slowed down. The beast struck out after him.

  Patch is playing him! Sparky flapped the reins.

  Patch began running full out. The lizard, pumping feverishly in pursuit, was gaining, both eyes on Sparky’s legs. Sparky crammed the reins into in his mouth, grabbed the harness and pulled himself hand-over-hand up to Patch. Sticky har hair slapped him in the face. He grabbed a handful and pulled. Patch tried to accelerate, but couldn’t. Sparky felt the beast’s hot breath. He pulled his butt forward.

  The beast lunged. The backs of Sparky’s skiyaks sunk under the weight of the beast’s head, then jerked free. Sparky glanced back. The beast was on its belly, panting. It snorted once, then turned its head and licked at its skiyak-bruised flank through strands of sticky har hair.

  Patch saw. He slowed and pranced back toward the pod compound, his hair in full billow.

  Tyfoona waited for Sparky to catch up, then let her har follow Patch home.

  That night at dinner, Sparky described the adventure. “What was that thing?” he asked.

  “Ice lizard,” replied Sam, “Uses piton-like bones under its feet to grip. Hides in boulders, or under the snow, like a crocodile under water. Lightning fast. Can catch anything for a short way. You were very lucky. And very brave.”

  “It was Tyfoona who saved us,” said Sparky. “She got us away in time. And when that...lizard...came after us, she tried to get it to go after her. She’s brave. And,” he smiled shyly, “really cool.”

  Sam told Tyfoona’s family what Sparky said.

  Tyfoona listened, then quickly told Sam how Sparky saved her twice, first by whacking the lizard with his skiyaks, then by drawing it up the slope away from her. Tyfoona asked Sam to thank Sparky.

  Sam did.

  “Please tell her she’s welcome,” said Sparky. “But we wouldn’t be here without Patch.”

  “Patch?” asked Sam.

  “Patch ‘the second’, anyway.”

  Tyfoona said something. Sam listened for a moment then turned back to Sparky, “Tyfoona thinks you’re ‘groobzz.’”

  “Groobzz?”

  “Something like, super cool in Lowconz.”

  “Oh.” Sparky blushed, glancing at Tyfoona.

  She smiled at him, warmly.

  Sparky glanced at Trrad who sat glaring at him.

  CHAPTER 46

  Have Not Good News

  “HAVE NOT GOOD NEWS,” said Grezz, sitting down at lunch with Sandy and Sam. “Big storm drop deep snow on ocean side of mountains. Much danger for Sam. He must not go.”

  “When can he go?” asked Sandy.

  “When snows melt. Maybe many suns.”

  “Then I’ll wait,” said Sandy. “I won’t go without him.”

  Sam closed his eyes for a moment then took her hand. “Sandy, thank you. But I need you to go now. You must tell your grandmother that I’m here. That I will come back to her as soon as I can. It wouldn’t be fair to her, or to me for that matter, to keep the news from her.”

  Sandy, eyes welling, stared sadly into her grandfather’s eyes. After a few moments, she nodded and said quietly, “I understand.”

  “Tell you what,” said Sam, beaming, “when I get home, will you have a party for me?”

  “Yes. Yes, I will. A big party. We’ll invite everyone,” she smiled.

  Later, Sandy left Sam napping and went to find Neff. She found her sitting alone in the eating pod, waiting for dinner, and writing in her diary.

  “May I join you?” asked Sandy.

  “Yes, of course,” replied Neff, putting aside her diary.

  “It looks like Trrad has a new best friend,” said Sandy, sitting down.

  “Thankfully, yes,” smiled Neff. “He seems goo-goo eyed with Tyfoona. She seems to like him too. Her father’s keeping a very close eye on the two of them.” She paused. “But, Sandy, you seem sad. What’s up?”

  Sandy told Neff about Grezz not letting her grandfather go, and about her grandfather telling Sandy she had to go.

  “I’m so sorry,” said Neff. “It must be heart-breaking to have to leave him here. At least you know he’ll be safe with the Snoflians. He’s a nice man. I feel sad for you both. But your grandmother will be happy when you tell her about him.”

  “She will,” said Sandy. They hugged. “Anyway, Grandpa won’t be alone,” she said. “Zeekeng won’t be leaving either. Not until the grandmother can go. But he’s letting Tyfoona and Pizeela come with us.”

  “Oh?” said Neff. “Why did Zeekeng agree to that?”

  “It seems Tyfoona and Pizeela said they couldn’t stand this ‘boring place’ and would not stay. They absolutely had to get to Snofliana, where there would be more things to do.”

  “‘More things to do’ means Trrad,” said Neff. “I’m sure Zeekeng knows Trrad’s coming. He must have said something about that.”

  Sandy smiled, “He said the girls could go, but only if Grell kept a close eye on Trrad and Tyfoona...and if Grezz got the three of them some homes in Snofliana with responsible grownups, until Zeekeng could get there. Grezz agreed. Grell wasn’t very pleased, but she went along with Grezz.”

  “Okay, so she’ll handle Trrad and Tyfoona,” said Neff. “But that’s only one problem. There’s a much bigger problem: Trrad’s skiing. It sucks. And the conditions are supposed to be dangerous. He might not make it!”

  “If he doesn’t make it, Grell wouldn’t care,” muttered Sandy. “She’d leave him.”

  “Then we’ll have to help him.”

  “I’d rather have to help Grandpa than Trrad,” said Sandy.

  “I know,” said Neff. “It doesn’t seem fair. But we’ve got no choice.” She paused, “Um, Sandy, now that we’re alone, could I ask you a question?”

  “Yes.”

  “It’s not my business—and please tell me if you think I’m intruding—but it seems to me there may be some sort of bad feeling between you and Grell.”

  “There is,” said Sandy, pensively. “I’m mad at her. If I had done what she had wanted, I would have left my grandfather buried in the avalanche. He would be dead. And I would never have known him.”

  “I’m sure Grell didn’t know he was your grandfather. But, why did she want you to leave him?”

  “She thought the Lowconz warriors were too close.”

  “Do you think maybe she chose to save as many as she could, including you, rather than risk losing everyone?”

  Sandy thought for a moment. “Maybe.”

  “I’m sure
if she knew he was your grandfather she might have tried to do things differently. It seems to me, Grell is glad that you found your grandfather. I may be mistaken, but I have a feeling she would really like to be your friend.”

  Sandy looked away in thought. “She helped me a lot when I got here. I guess holding a grudge won’t help anything. Especially where we’re going to go.”

  The others soon arrived.

  Grezz called a meeting.

  Sam translated for the Lowconz.

  “You good guests,” said Grezz, his face serious, “But you eat too much. Time you go.”

  Notch and Neff chuckled, Sparky and Sandy a moment later. Zeekeng laughed. His family sat stone-faced. Trrad felt insulted. He didn’t think he’d eaten too much.

  Grezz continued. “Strangest group ever to go to trading point. Four humancs, two Lowconz, a Trappid, a Snoflian...and two altivaulters, part of way.”

  “Two altivaulters?” asked Neff.

  “Mm,” replied Grezz, lifting a cup. “Sam, tell.” Grezz slurped.

  “Two altivaulters will guide you through the warrens to the ocean side of the mountains,” said Sam. “You’ll be using plummetin nut skis to get to the warren and go down the ocean side.”

  “Why not skiyaks?” asked Notch. Plummetins are so old school.

  “Skiyaks are like magnets,” said Sam. “Only Snoflians have them. Everyone else would like to get their hands on them. The Lowconz would use them, the Trappids and Sea Traders would sell them. Some of them would kill to get them. You’d be in real danger.”

  Notch scratched his head thoughtfully. “Okay. Makes sense. But why go over the mountains. Why not go down to the fiord and walk or take a boat to the trading point?”

  “All cliffs. No trails to walk,” responded Grezz. “With boat, would have to fight off pirates and Trappids.”

  Notch shrugged, “Okay, so we only used plummetins to go uphill, pulled by altivaulters. Can we practice going downhill on them, before we go?”

  “Mm. Practice tomorrow,” said Grezz. “Go day after.”

  One day to practice. If it’s not enough, I’m toast.