by Gabi Moore
“It was a terrible thing to say—I just—”
“No, don’t ‘I just’ me,” Laova cut him off. “You’re stupid sometimes, Taren. You’re emotional and you let your mouth outrun you. I do too, but at least this time it’s your mistake, not mine.”
“I shouldn’t have said that,” Taren continued. Laova had started walking again, and he trailed her. His nose was still bleeding a little; Laova was quietly glad she hadn’t shattered it. “I just meant I think she still feels fond of him, and she might—I don’t know, she might not like the two of you together.”
“That is a damn stupid excuse.”
“It’s not an excuse!”
“Yes, it is,” Laova exhaled. At this rate, she was going to end up punching him again. “What, are you afraid she’s going to challenge me to mortal combat over Nemlach? We aren’t southern barbarians, Taren. We don’t fight to the death over people.”
“It’s happened before!”
“Once, and the offender was put to death,” Laova corrected him quietly. She looked at Taren straight. “You know the laws. Murder is punishable by death, no matter the circumstance.”
He released his nose. “Is it still bleeding?”
“I think it froze.”
Taren sighed. “Well, at least it stopped.”
Laova kept walking. “And Rell knows about us, by now. If she had a problem, she would be harassing Nemlach just as much as you’re harassing me. And she’s not. It’s just you.”
“It’s just me?” Taren’s voice hitched again. “Just me? Don’t I matter to you at all, Laova?”
“Of course you do, idiot!” Laova had to stop again and turn back to him. “How can you ask me that? You’ve been like a brother to me since we were children! I love you—like a brother!”
“Well, I don’t love you like a sister!” he hissed back. “I love you as a woman!”
“Well that’s your problem!” Laova shot back. “What can I do about it?”
“You can give me a chance!”
“A chance to what?”
Taren gestured in frustration, mindless, pointless hand waving that really just illustrated how incomprehensible he considered her response.
Laova stopped him with a hand on one arm. “Look, Taren. I don’t think you know what you’re talking about.”
He glared at her, and the frozen blood across his nose and cheek made him look slightly insane. Before he could lash out, Laova pushed on.
“Taren, I’ve loved you for as long as I can remember,” she told him. “There was even a time when I thought we could get married and we’d do well together. But then I got older and I realized that I was wrong—no, let me talk.”
Taren had started to interrupt, and lapsed back into sullen silence.
“I realized that we are too alike,” Laova explained gently. “Taren, we’re exactly alike. We’re both hot-headed and we rush things. We make each other angrier and angrier. Just look at how we are now. You’re right: Nemlach would never behave this way, and I’d never behave this way around him. We fit together better.
“But you and I are too alike,” Laova repeated sadly. “And I don’t love you as a husband. Not now. Not ever.”
Taren’s arms dropped to his sides. “You can’t mean that.”
“I do.”
“No, you don’t.”
Laova looked at him and realized he might be right. Maybe in some world, in some circumstance, she might have loved him enough to marry him. Maybe if Nemlach had never existed, or if he’d left to marry a woman in another tribe. Perhaps if Taren had been a little older, and had had time to become wise, as Nemlach was.
Or maybe Laova was right, and they weren’t meant to be.
“Please don’t make this a mess, Taren,” Laova pleaded quietly, aware that the time had passed to avoid this becoming a mess.
Instead of answering, Taren held her hands in his.
“Dammit, Taren, don’t make this a mess.” Laova knew what he was going to do. She could have stopped him, and she never could pinpoint exactly why she didn’t. She could have. She should have. But Taren leaned down, bloodied face and all, and kissed her, and Laova let it happen.
His blood was coppery in her mouth; everything about him tasted wrong. The very love she felt for him turned bitter and cold and she desperately wished she had the heart to push him away.
There was a crack, a sharp explosion through the air like thunder. Laova and Taren darted apart, staring wildly upward. They were far up the mountain. Neither of them had any idea what had caused such a boom this far into winter—it was snowstorms, not lightning storms, this time of year—they were too well aware what was bound to follow.
Something far above was crackling, like splintered wood. Like a tree falling. Like a big, giant, white snowy tree falling.
“Oh, gods,” Laova gasped.
“Run!” Taren shouted.
The snow started impossibly slow. From a distance, it hardly seemed dangerous. They all knew it was misleading; blindly, the two of them charged forward, forgetting the wolf, forgetting the tracks, forgetting the hunt, forgetting everything except the will to live. The avalanche picked up speed as it barreled down the face of Star-Reach, and the crackling had intensified to a roar.
Trees whipped by. Laova thought desperately that they might climb one, but that would be awkward and slow in their gear, and they could easily get ripped out of the branches if—when—the snow rushed by through the lower boughs.
Their best chance was to find a ridge, or some rock outcropping that would protect them. There was no time to regroup with the others. Laova knew they were running, too, and prayed silently to any god watching that all of them would make it, but especially one, especially one…
“There!”
Laova looked where Taren was pointing; it was perfect. Perfectly treacherous. A little ways down the slope a rocky shoulder cut upward out of the mountain-side. Under normal circumstances, it would be damn dumb and pointless to try and climb it, but now Taren and Laova bolted for it with the last of their strength. The snow was pouring in fast, speeding down upon them and there was no other chance to escape it.
Through scrub, under tree branches. Laova and Taren dashed, tripped, rolled, and staggered like wounded animals towards their best chance. There was a roaring in their ears, and Laova guessed it was half the sound of a cold death approaching, and half the sound of blood pounding in time with her fleeing boot-steps.
The first of the avalanche was swirling around their feet when they reached the shoulder of rock, and Taren unceremoniously grabbed Laova and hauled her up the rock face. Taken by surprise, Laova found herself climbing before she realized what had happened, and had to scurry into motion so she could reach down and grab Taren by the neck of his coat. The two of them scaled the rock to its summit and collapsed.
An avalanche is a short ordeal. Terrifying, but short. The snow did its work, rushing and growling past. It rose uncomfortably high on the rock, and for a moment Laova was quite certain they were going to be swept away, despite their efforts. But then it slowed. The current that once raging diminished to a flow, then coalesced into a full stop. And Laova and Taren breathed, hearts racing long after the danger had passed.
When their arms and legs stopped shaking, it was time to look for the others, but this turned out to be a short affair. Their five companions were old hands at this; all of them had survived an avalanche or two. It was difficult walking on the loose snow, but Rell and Ghal were not far away. They soon appeared, picking their way down the slope with due—if cautious—haste, and the four of them continued on to find the other three.
“Where’d you shelter?” Taren asked Ghal.
“Couldn’t get to shelter fast enough,” Ghal admitted. “We went with the snow. You just swim with it, boy, if the time ever comes. Just let it sweep you away and focus on keeping your head up.”
Taren had simply stared at him, awestruck.
Laova hardly had a thought to spare tow
ards swimming with avalanches. Nemlach had been in the downhill group today. He’d been with Khara and Bamet, and she didn’t remember seeing shelter down this far.
The further down the hill they went, the more they slowed. Rell searched and scanned with her eyes, clearly anxious. They called for their missing friends softly; it wasn’t too late to trip another snow-slide. No one answered.
“Khara!” Laova hissed. “Bamet!”
There was no answer. She rushed a little way down the hill, slipped on a loose cluster of snow, and slid about ten paces before skidding to a halt. She waved at Rell that she was all right, and turned back to the trees; ten or fifteen feet of trunk was buried in snow. Laova tried not to think of her friends, cold and buried beneath it.
“Nemlach!” she shouted in a whisper.
“Laova!”
Her heart leapt, and she beckoned frantically for the others. “Nemlach?” she asked. Her voice burst out louder than she meant, and when she spoke again, it was softer. “Where are you?”
“Here, Laova.” A tree further up rustled.
“Over here,” she waved to the others again, who were following her slide at a careful and slower pace.
Taking care not to sink into a patch of loose snow, Laova crossed over and peered through the tree branches. She squeezed through them, and saw the problem at once.
“You climbed a tree, I see,” she observed, chuckling.
Nemlach rolled his eyes. “We tried.”
“Laova?” Khara head peered over another branch. “It’s Laova!”
“Good,” Bamet’s voice muttered from somewhere around the trunk. “Dig us out.”
They were all buried up the chest in snow. If they’d stopped climbing five feet sooner, all of them would be buried alive; as it was, they were all stuck.
The sight of solemn Nemlach in a tree, buried to the chest in snow was funny, but it wouldn’t have been quite as hysterical if Laova hadn’t been worried for his life seconds before. Her anxiety crackled into fits of laughter, which Nemlach and Khara and Bamet bore with varying degrees of patience.
Finally Nemlach reached out and grabbed her arm. “That’s it. Come here.”
He pulled her against him, which amounted to Laova lying on the snow in his arms. She hugged him tightly and kissed him as if he really had died. He kissed her back in assurance that he hadn’t. Khara whistled.
“You won’t find his nether parts much use at the moment,” she jeered through the branches.
Laova threw a snowball at her; it seemed Khara’s arms were pinned, because she could do nothing as the snow struck her cheek and filled the collar of her coat.
“Hey, I survived, too!” Bamet teased.
“Shut up, you,” Laova kissed Nemlach again and wriggled backwards out of the branches. He held her hand until the very last, squeezing it fondly.
The other three were searching around for her when Laova stepped out of the tree branches.
“We have some digging to do.”
***
“You’re lucky we weren’t dumb enough to try and climb trees,” Laova teased.
“Yes, we are,” Khara replied, and sneezed.
They’d dug the three of them out with little difficulty; Nemlach was the only one whose arms were free, and it would have taken him hours just to dig himself out. Khara’s arms were stuck between tree branches and snow, and Bamet had actually been buried up to his ears. In relatively little time, they were free.
Finding a safe camp was a little longer in doing. In the end, their group settled below a shallow outcropping. Another avalanche would hopefully tumble safely over them, if it came to that. All of them hoped in silent unison that it didn’t come to that.
They’d built the largest fire they could manage, and combined the two tents into one larger one. It wasn’t quite as effective as two smaller ones; there were large gaps in the hide walls. But they allowed entry and exit, and were fairly easily covered. Besides, with the fire inside the shelter, heat was plenty. They had all removed their outer layers within an hour of settling in, and the rest were going piece by piece. Soon the little chamber was warm enough for all of them to sit about in their inner cloth layers. The aim was to keep the ones who had nearly been buried alive warm. There was no telling if one had taken sick from such circumstances, but the best thing was to help prevent it.
For almost having died, their mood was rather jovial. Perhaps it was the breaking of tension, or the feeling of immense luck. There was more joking and laughing around their fire that night than there had been in weeks, and when Rell and Laova sat together to complete the ritual part of the evening, even their stoic Hunt Leader was grinning like a girl.
“Well, what did you learn today, Laova?”
“I learned that avalanches are a lot faster than I am.”
Laughter answered this response; Laova caught herself gazing at Nemlach. She loved to see him laugh. Rell nodded. “Yes, they are. Anything else?”
“In such a circumstance, it’s best to find a rocky shelter, if I can. If not, swim with it. Climbing a tree can be… risky.”
More chuckles, and Rell smiled. “I’m glad that lesson was well-learned.”
“I also learned that an avalanche is devastating to a successful hunt,” Laova continued.
There was no laughter this time, all grew still. Rell looked at her seriously.
“What do you mean?”
“A wise huntress knows when a hunt is over,” Laova replied. She looked around. “I believe it’s time to move on. The tracks of the wolf are fully lost, if it survived the avalanche at all. Even a mountain wolf has its limits. If it ran, it could be miles away in any direction by now. And there’s no way to figure out which.
“But, there are still a few days of the long night left, and if we head down soon, we can bring down a buck elk, or something that lives somewhere where avalanches don’t reach so easily.”
She gave a sad smile. “A wise huntress doesn’t waste her time. She doesn’t waste her fellow hunters’ time. She does what’s best for the group, and for the village. My life, our life.”
Laova looked up at Nemlach; his face was blank with surprise. Rell recovered first, and took Laova’s hand.
“That is the wisest thing I have ever heard you say,” she breathed.
Without warning, she reached out and drew Laova into an embrace. Shocked, Laova hugged her back, looking around to see if this was normal behavior. Rell drew back and held Laova at arm’s length.
“Welcome our new hunter,” she announced. “It’s rare that one so spirited can also see the greater good. It’s rare that one so young can choose what’s best for her clan. It would have been a great thing for you to slay a mountain wolf on your first hunt, Laova. But believe me when I say, it’s greater still to let it go for the safety of your brothers and sisters.”
It was dawning on her; Laova began to grin, looking around.
“You’re one of us, Laova,” Rell told her. “For life.”
She reached out a hand. Laova took it, tears welling up in her eyes. Rell and Laova both kissed the back of each other’s knuckles fiercely.
“Laova the Hunter!” Khara shouted to loud approval from the others. Nemlach was smiling, also, now, and moved closer to pull Laova again into his arms.
No one noticed Taren. He watched uncertainly, smiling but not joyous. He watched Laova’s face, watched her kiss Nemlach and smile for the others. He noted the stiffness of her eyes, the careful motion of her limbs. The way she kept tossing back her hair, and how her pale face had whitened even further.
And the tears. That was unlike her. True, much of what she’d done lately was unlike her, but still, something was amiss.
Taren let them celebrate. There was no need to draw attention yet. He’d wait for Laova to move first.
Chapter 8
The trees were few, now. There was little to block the vision of the glowing sky and the bands of waving color. Vivid color rained down on her and reflected off the snow
.
“Why are you calling me?” she asked. The figure was closer now. Perhaps close enough to hear her. But the wind was blowing the wrong way. Her voice surely didn’t carry up against it.
She stumbled on through snow that was up to her knees. If she followed the footsteps of the figure ahead, it was a little shallower, but she still couldn’t seem to close the distance by more than a pace or two.
Even now, with the sky circling her on all sides, Laova couldn’t feel the cold. The air seemed no more or less full here than below, as if she weren’t practically on top of the world. Stars gleamed through the ghostly lights above. She knew them well, because they were the same ones she saw in the waking world.
The wolf padded back and forth through the trees around her. She felt no fear at all for his presence now. He’d gotten her this far, and would continue to aid her.
“Wait!” she called. The figure might have slowed; she couldn’t make out a single feature, not from all the way down here. He, she, it. Laova could just barely discern the flexing steps of long legs pushing stubbornly up the increasing slope. “Wait!”
It slowed this time, she knew.
“I’m trying to reach you!” she shouted, oblivious to the threat of avalanche. It seemed impossible here. Perhaps it was.
And again, no answer in words. The god lights swirled onward as the figure bent back into the work of ascent. But on the air floated a reply, a feeling, an instinct.
You’re almost here. Come to me.
***
Laova woke to the feeling of another body near, very near.
For a moment, she was afraid it was Taren. But then, the lips at her collarbone were bearded, and she knew Nemlach’s scent well enough by now to recognize it instantly. She sighed happily and ran her fingers through his hair.
In response, Nemlach’s hands slipped to her waist. He hooked a finger in the ties of her trousers and tugged their ties loose. They felt insecurely draped across her hips, now, and Laova’s heart raced as he dragged them lower by miniscule notches.
Her entire body wanted this; the racing of her heart pumped hot blood through her veins, making the place between her legs, where Nemlach was drawing closer and closer to, burn. Her skin was alive with sensation.
