by Power, P. S.
"Not too bad. Get three waterproofs too. For each of us. Bedding and... You know, forget the tent. It won't hold up in the winds. We'll need knives. We can make a shelter, if we hurry. You always wanted to cuddle up with me all night anyway, right?" There was actually concern in her tone for some reason, and it wasn't about the weather. It was like she was uncertain about what Pran would do if they were alone together like that? Or, it might have been different than that. For her part, Pran kept packing and decided that taking it as a joke was the right course of action, no matter how it had been meant.
"Sounds fun." She stopped suddenly and winced, thinking about it. "Actually it sounds lumpy and uncomfortable. Neither of us exactly comes pre-padded. We'll live, and I promise that I won't grope you in your sleep." There, it was jovial enough, wasn't it?
Mara chuckled.
"Good. That always gets awkward. Especially in a storm, I mean, it's not like you can just leave." The way she said it made it seem like it had actually come up for her before. More than once.
"Yeah. Do we need rope?" Pran just signed for some anyway. Most of the trouble she'd had in the last weeks stemmed from rope, she reflected casually, not honestly blaming strands of fiber for her problems.
Sure, the school council had been too hard on her, kicking her out, but that was really only too much because of the investment that they'd already made in her. She'd pulled a prank with some friends of hers at school and ended up breaking Sollen's leg. The boy was only fourteen and wouldn't even be healed yet. She could blame the rope, or the slope of the roof that she'd hoisted the large horse statue up on. A lot of people would have. For that matter the knots could be faulted too. She'd tied them, but it wasn't done correctly.
In the end though, no matter how much she wanted to deny it now, no matter how many people complained for her and even fought to get her position returned, the school council hadn't really been wrong. She hadn't made some simple mistake. Pran had nearly gotten a boy killed, doing something that she knew was wrong the whole time. Everything past that was her fault. All of it.
Bard Sollen might not even be able to finish school, if he didn't heal fast enough, or work hard enough while he did it. What would he do if that happened? Go back to his family? They lived in a city and had a store, so maybe that was the case, but if it happened, it would be her doing. No matter how she tried to spin it around, all the angles came back to her.
Thinking that also reminded her that she owed the school a statue. One of the founder, Michael Morse. The man had been a bit beefy, but not enough that his statue could take a several story fall and not break. Since she didn't have the deep purse of the government to fund it, she needed to get some stone working tools and materials for it if she could. Her best bet would be to make it near an air shipping center, and send it along to them. Maybe she could do it from Morseburg? It was where she was headed and it was centrally located for the entire continent, which had to mean that ships like The Lament came and went with decent frequency, didn't it?
Mara grunted at her, seeing that she was already loading a fifty foot coil, as if they might be going mountain climbing or something. It wasn't a thick rope, and she didn't know what might come up. After the last thing, well, having everything she could just made sense now. In the end she had an extra bag packed, filled with signed out bits of almost everything. She would have taken more, but Mara was laughing at her.
"It's only an overnight trip. Being prepared is good, but weighed down, not so much so. Well, as long as you carry it all, who am I to complain?" It was said blandly, but Pran didn't rise to the bait.
All she did was put on several layers of clothing while they were inside and dry, then wrapped an oil cloth around her shoulders and pinned it into place, tying it around her middle, so the wind wouldn't take it as easily. Mara, for all her training, didn't bother doing that, just hoisting her own bag and walking out.
Pran rolled her eyes, and struggled to carry all the stuff she had, then dashed, if a slow plod could be called that, to pick up her truncheon and air rifle from her room and to make certain her instruments were put away at the same time. It took a while and Mara snapped at her for it, when she got outside.
"Cutting it a bit close, aren't you? The rope crews are already out here. I really don't love rain. Have I ever mentioned that? Especially in the wind."
Pran didn't know what they were supposed to do really, but Mara led the way, finding a natural dip in the woods that had a hollow log already in place over it. The whole thing was on a hill too, which meant that they might not be in the path of a flood.
"It doesn't look like a seasonal stream bed at least." Mara assured her, setting up layers of branches that she cut from the trees. Everything was wet already, one way or the other, and they were working in the near dark already. Pran just started copying the other woman, having no clue what was going on. It sped things up, but meant she got yelled at anyway.
"No, damn it Pran, I'm on shelter. Go collect the wood for the fire! You brought matches, I saw you get them. You can do that part. Hide the gear under the main beam here. That's the log." She didn't mutter anything about stupid Bards at least. Not where Pran could hear her.
It was hard to find enough wood, but she knew how to get it, turning over logs herself and searching under brush for the small things. That would be needed to get it going. Then they had to have larger stuff. She kept hurrying to bring in arm loads of things, but knew it wasn't enough yet. Feeling a bit panicked, since she didn't really want her friend to be yelling at her all night, she pulled over some large branches. They were nearly logs themselves, and a bit damp, but she didn't know what else to do.
When Mara saw the piles of wood, half of it hidden under the log to keep it dry, she didn't scream at least.
"We can use that, I think. If we can get the smaller tinder going well enough, almost anything will burn. The smoke can be a killer. I'm ready for more branches. We need a foot on the ground and nearly that over us. We have to tie it down too, since the wind is picking up a bit. This isn't a wind storm, I don't believe. We just can't leave The Lament inflated in anything over ten kilometers an hour really. We need to move. In a few minutes I won't be able to see my hands in front of my face." She smiled, and while it was actually nearing dark, it wasn't that bad yet. Just nearly. There was no moon to speak of, so Pran hurried.
It wasn't enough, and not in time, but on the good side the wind wasn't all that bad.
Nothing was, at first.
Chapter four
"Oh, what fresh hell is this?" Pran intoned as she and Mara huddled in the little stick and branch shelter. What she was addressing was the wind, which hadn't gotten much stronger, maybe a few kilometers per hour, but had suddenly turned to ice. It hadn't been exactly warm before, but now it was bitter, sapping the heat from the fire that was placed in the door of the little shelter. That was so they wouldn't die from the smoke.
At least Pran thought so. There was a reflector behind it, but the scent of the burning logs still filled the place.
Mara sighed, which was a mournful thing, for her. Normally she was happy enough seeming. Pran was starting to wonder if it was an act, but if so, she couldn't fault it. That was how she got through most of her days too.
"Damn it. It's a cold front coming in. I knew the wind was from the North. Well, we have to get ready for it, which means you do, since I still can't really see in the dark all that well. We'll need another six layers of pine branches on the top of this thing. For insulation. More for in here too. It won't be the softest mattress in the world, but trust me, by morning you'll be happy to be off the ground by an extra foot. It's not going to leave much space." Reaching up she touched the branches that were only about two feet above their heads already.
Pran listened to the softly hissing fire, the light rain not threatening to put it out yet, but still making it dim a little.
"Oh, that kind of fresh hell. The one where I go outside and flail around for hours. Well, thanks for ex
plaining it to me. Pass the knife? I'll be a while."
Mara chuckled, as if it were a joke or gentle hazing, rather than a life and death struggle against nature.
That was probably just her way of saying that it wasn't all that serious. Except that, even after she bundled up and wrapped herself in not one, but both her oil slickers, the cold was still enough to make her shiver at first. It wasn't freezing outside yet, but everything was damp, which the second she started to pull at the small branches she needed, soaked her mittens.
For a long time she just worked, fumbling away from the firelight as far as she dared, grasping up as high as she could and trying to guess how thick the sappy branches were, by feel. She could cut through things about as thick as her own thumb, with work and twisting. It smelled powerfully of pine, and got all over her, since the tree wasn't frozen yet either. Then, after making a big pile, she layered the things carefully on the top of the structure, trying not to collapse it. Mara had said six of them, but she did more than that, since doing more would make it warmer. Hopefully. As long as the whole thing didn't come down on them from the weight. So far it seemed fine, but it might be a long night.
Then she repeated the whole thing, and after only three hours of being out in the rain, mainly soaked and already cold, Pran started to pass the branches in to the Guardian, who hadn't gone to sleep or anything yet.
"Another." There was no mention of "please" but Pran could understand that. It was so cool out now that the rain had started to turn to a wet and sloppy snow and ice mix already. They didn't have a lot of time to play around with niceties. Of course Mara was actually perking up, as if things were starting to get fun.
Clearly it was a sign of mental illness.
"And..." The woman inside the dark hole made noises for a while, resetting the oil cloth which was their floor. "Done! Add more wood to the fire. Just move the logs on, so that the ends are in the blaze. No, not that much." There was a moment of exasperation in her voice. "That's over the fire. Haven't you ever gone camping before? I keep having to tell you things that even farm kids would know. Even city kids and that's saying something." There was an edge to the words, as if Pran were being called stupid by the woman.
That made her bristle a bit, tired already and wet from being outside. Cold too.
"Why no, Guardian Mara, they didn't take us anywhere at the orphanage and when I was in school, I had to study all the time. Did they take you camping in guardian training?" She meant it to point out that the other woman was being a bit of a bitch, without saying the actual word, since they were friends, but Mara snorted at her.
"Yes. We had to live like this for a full year in fact, when we were ten. It didn't occur to me that it would be different for anyone else. Even before that my father took me and my brothers a couple times a year. Just off into the woods like this. Always in the summer, as you'd probably guess. It's a lot more fun then. We had tents too. Old canvas things that my father and mother had made. Mom didn't really like camping that much, but she'd go once or twice a year, just to keep dad happy, I think. We'd have cook outs and roast bits of meat and sausages on sticks over the flames. Then we'd all take turns singing and making up stories. I know it probably sounds boring, but I was eight, so it didn't take a lot to impress me back then." She half crawled out the little cave they'd made and moved the wood around in the fire, until the ends of the two big branches touched each other in the middle of the flames. "Not that great for heat, but it will have to do. You need to change, I bet. Strip off out there and then come inside, so you don't bring all that moisture with you."
At first Pran was nearly certain the other woman was kidding, since it had gotten a lot colder out, and her breath was a giant plume in the air, even with the slush mix slapping the top of her head the instant the oil cloth was taken off. It took some prodding by Mara, but she did it, shivering the whole time, holding one of the clothes around her to keep the worst of the wind off. Then she had to carefully crawl in, most of the space having been taken away by branches.
The only saving grace was that she'd bothered to bring extra things to wear, and with only a little grunting and a few tiny moans, she managed to get into them. They weren't set right, so they pulled in funny places, but it was better than going without. Then Mara snuggled in next to her and wrapped them both in the slightly damp slicks she'd been using.
"We can't actually sleep much, if things are going to get bad. Awake and prepared a person can survive temperatures many times below the snow point. You can't get lazy though. We need to try and keep the fire going, and stay wrapped up. We have a good platform under us for it, so we should try a fire meditation." Then she went silent, as if Pran had some hope of knowing what that was?
Meditation was a thing that she'd only recently encountered at all, and the Guardian knew that, having been one of the people teaching her about it. It was probably just that the woman was bored and wanted her to talk part of the time, rather than just lecturing. Pran could do that, she decided, taking the role of dutiful student, since it was one she'd played before.
Grinning she looked at the woman, who was only a few inches away from her, in the mainly dark space. It smelled too strongly of pine really, but under the coverings she wasn't cold anymore at least. It was the shared body heat, more than the fire, which was still burning away merrily, even as it kept hissing at them from the cold falling stuff. It was a lot more white now, she noticed, but too fast for real snow.
"Fire Meditation? Do I need to get out and sit in it? If so, you go first." Okay, so she was being a little bit flip, but it was close enough to what was needed, it seemed. The other woman leaned into her and sighed.
Then she spoke, actually managing to sound like a real teacher for a few moments.
"Not at all. That's just the rather colorful name for a heat generating and conservation technique. You minimize contact with the floor or ground, by staying sitting up, rather than laying down like most would naturally gravitate towards. Then you wrap up if you can, to keep the heat collected near your body and tense your middle and use deep abdominal breathing to keep your metabolic rate up. It's a bit like jogging in place to keep warm, only easier and without as much wasted energy. There's even a visualization to go along with it, so you don't get bored, just sitting and breathing." She went into it then, making sure Pran had her head right over her body, because heat moved upward, and that her head was covered.
The "fire" part had to do with imagining she had a fire moving around inside her, but even Mara pointed out that it wasn't really about that, but the breathing and not wasting her energy.
"So, it's not hard, but takes discipline. We can take turns watching the fire." Then, as if it were supposed to be enough, Mara closed her eyes rather than explain anything else and started to breathe heavily.
Slowly though. Pran tried it and found it wasn't that hard to do. You had to tense the muscles in the stomach, and it was work, but she managed. She even kept her eyes open and about an hour later flowed forward carefully, to move the logs together again. It was then that she understood that things might be a bit worse than she'd feared.
Not only was the world white now, instead of dark like it had been, but the wind was picking up. It wasn't blowing in yet, but it was enough that, now that she'd heard it and felt the cold air on her face, it was hard to miss. The heat reflector, which was just some pieces of wood stuck in the ground, mainly being bark really, was protecting the fire at least. The snow was still heavy and wet, so Pran added some other wood to the fire too, hoping that might help keep it from going out. Big chunks of the stuff that would last for a long time.
Then she crawled back in, managing to elbow Mara, who didn't stir at all, and not track anything back in with her really. It took a bit to get wrapped back up, but about five minutes later she was back to her breathing exercises, feeling more than a little tired. Still, lack of sleep wouldn't kill her, would it? She'd just wish she were dead.
In her bags there were some of th
e pills that would keep her awake, if she needed them. It was tempting, but they were so strong she had to figure that they weren't good for the health. It was a real argument, she decided, until about half an hour later. Being bored was less than fun, so she got one out, and took it, almost without thinking.
After all, she had a reason to take it, not wanting to die. Bards were supposed to always be doing things like that anyway, weren't they? Strange drugs, and drinking to excess? Like having wanton sex, it was part of the mystique. She could at least take part in a bit of it, right?
Nothing happened at first, but she wasn't dumb enough to try and take more than one of the things at time. The taste of green tea lingered in her mouth, which dried pretty quickly, as she kept breathing through her nose. She could feel the force of her actions pushing blood into her head, and even her hands, if not as strongly. It really was keeping her warmer, she thought.
Next to her Mara stirred a bit, and looked out at the fire, but didn't move, her breathing just keeping pace with Pran's. It was like they were joined almost. Working together as one. Except for the complete lack of doing anything part. She grinned and started to work on a song inside her mind. An instrumental, for the lute, she decided, trying not to actually hum the catchy tune. Then she carefully committed the thing to memory. Nothing was worse than coming up with a good melody only to lose it, because you didn't write it down.
The snow kept falling, but the touch of fear she'd had about it went away. That would be the drugs, which really did that part pretty well. She wasn't afraid of anything. Not the cold, or the snow. Not Mara or Clark, or her future. Nothing. After a while she let go of her new song and just focused on breathing. It was intense, and very important.
