by Rhett DeVane
“I saw water rushing and twirling. Like it was angry and wanted to wipe away everything in its path.”
Were they going to have a flood? Surely the caves were on high enough ground and far enough from the stream. The entrance holes deflected rainfall and snowmelt. Slate’s dreams aren’t always exact, she thought. Sometimes they contained symbols, not reality.
Slate set down his cup. Closed his eyes. “I saw a pack caught on a rock. Torn on one side. The water pushed around it, and it bobbed under, then up. Over and over.”
Elsbeth’s chest felt cold. She snugged the flannel robe closer.
“Then fast thumping noises. Like heavy footsteps.” Slate stamped his feet. “Crunch, crunch, crunch.”
A bear? She wondered. No, they hadn’t stirred from winter sleep yet.
Slate opened his eyes. Tears glistened in the corners. “Then pain and blackness.”
Elsbeth took one last slug of tea and set down her cup. “We have to gather the others.”
Elsbeth moved from cave to cave, awakening her spirit-daughters. They trailed behind her to the Common Hall.
Jen jogged beside Elsbeth, peppering her with questions. “What’s up? What’s going on? Huh? Huh?”
Jondu walked a couple of paces behind, silent. Mari and Taka-Herb yawned, shuffling at the rear of the group.
When they reached the Common Hall, Sim’s three spirit-sons waited by the hearth.
“Now, will you tell us?” Jondu asked.
Elsbeth and Slate took turns. Slate relayed the dream messages. Elsbeth echoed her concern.
“So, we go look for them,” Jen said. The others nodded agreement.
“Easier to voice than do,” Elsbeth countered. “The late snowfall has blocked the entrances. No doubt, the same storm is responsible for Sim and Grant’s delay.”
Jondu planted her feet apart, arms crisscrossed over her chest. “Sim and Grant know how to survive topside. I don’t get why you’re both flipping out.”
Elsbeth tapped her robe above her heart. “It’s something I feel.” She rippled her fingers. “Like a vibration. Haven’t you ever done such, Jondu? Feel there’s danger?”
Jondu moved her head up and down.
The group stood in a circle. No one spoke for a moment. A log snapped in the fire. Gabby hummed low, a habit he had when he was upset.
“I know a way topside,” Jondu said in a soft voice. “A deep tunnel made by the moles. It opens beneath two leaning boulders, near the stream, protected from the ice and snow. I followed Sim there one time.”
“And I never knew this?” Elsbeth propped her arms on her hips. Sim never kept secrets, not from her!
“He didn’t tell,” Jondu said. “He was probably afraid someone would go topside too early and get hurt.”
Elsbeth snorted. “And it was fine for him to do such?” Didn’t surprise her, when she stopped to consider it. Not really. “And why didn’t you tell me?” She swatted the questions aside before Jondu had a chance to answer. “Never mind. Makes no difference.”
“I can find them. Remember, I’m good at finding things.” Jondu waited for a reply.
“I’ll go with you,” Jen added. “Better with two of us.”
Elsbeth took a deep breath, blew it out. “I should be the one—”
Mari rested one hand on Elsbeth’s arm. “No, you should not.”
Brick cleared his throat. The others turned toward him. “If I may . . . I know I am not the thinker Grant is, nor adventurous like Sim The First Father, but it seems to me, the two most qualified travelers might be the wisest choice. It is this way in my stories. To do otherwise . . . well, it’s just foolish.” He paused. “The fools who rush in unprepared often end up dead.”
Her clan, scattered like dandelion puffs. Wasn’t that part of her bad dream? A finger of fear trailed up Elsbeth’s spine.
Gabby stopped humming. “We should ask Taproot what to do.”
Elsbeth pulled her shoulders back. “No.” The solution took shape in her mind. She turned to face Jondu and Jen. “Get your packs.” Then to Taka-Herb. “They’ll need some small vials of healing herbs. Whatever you think, in case . . . I’ll leave that up to you.”
She tipped her head toward Mari. “Those down vests you made, and any layers you can add for warmth. Outfit them as warmly as possible.”
Mari nodded.
Slate, Gabby, and Brick waited. “Okay, the rest of you—pack up dried fruit and nuts. Enough for a few days.”
They watched her, wide-eyed. “Go!” The clan split off, running to the tunnels.
Elsbeth stood alone by the hearth. Was this how her own parents had felt when they asked her to hide behind the hedge when the soldiers came? They couldn’t have foreseen the months Elsbeth spent living in alleys, feeding from garbage cans until she landed in the orphanage. Wonder what they would think now, seeing the one-spirit creature she’d become, with her own children.
As her mother had done with her, Elsbeth was sending her daughters into danger, into the unknown. It had to be.
Her spirit ached.
What was her part? She lifted her hands, palms up. Closed her eyes. Chanted the old prayer.
Blessed is the Light. The life and the Light are one. We are the Light. We are one.
Less than an hour later, Elsbeth and the clan assembled again in the Common Hall.
Brick stood back, eyeing the two travelers. “You look like snowballs rolled in dried grass.”
True. The worn camouflage material Sim had rescued from some “top secret” dump location the past summer resembled the forest in winter—white background laced with brown branches and bits of dead leaves. Elsbeth sniffed one sleeve. Mari had obviously spent hours slushing the garbage stench from the fabric.
“I think they’ll blend in perfectly,” Mari said. She snipped a stray thread from Jondu’s jacket. “Except for Jen’s bright red cap.”
“I always wear it. It’s my lucky hat.” Jen tapped the knit cap with her fingertips.
“This down stuffing is really warm.” Jondu tugged at the collar. “We should go.”
“We’ll walk with you, until you have to step topside,” Elsbeth said. Her voice came out squeaky and forced. Emotion threatened to close her throat.
Jondu shook her head. “Nope.”
“But—”
Jondu crossed her arms over her chest. “If I show you the hidden exit, you’ll be tempted to follow.”
Mari touched Elsbeth’s arm. “She’s right, you know.”
Elsbeth took a shaky breath and let it out. “As you wish.”
Jondu and Jen hugged all of them, one by one.
“Close your eyes and turn your backs to us.” Jondu stood with her thumbs hooked under her pack straps.
“Wait!” Jen dug beneath her collar and slipped the birth crystal pendant over her head. She walked toward Elsbeth and held out her hands. The birth crystal let off a gentle blue glow. “Will you protect her while I’m gone?”
“I . . . I . . .”
“It’s wicked cold, topside. I need my spirit-daughter to be safe. Please.” Jen pleaded with her eyes.
Elsbeth took the pendant, slipped it over her head, and nestled it beneath her robe. The pendant made a tinkling sound when it bumped against the crystal shard from Jen’s birth and the dump-dive locket Sim had given her over fifty years ago.
“Okay, but she’s back with you, as soon as you return.” Elsbeth noted a faint scent rising from the crystal. Sweet, like the blossoms of wild roses. A flash from her lowlander childhood swept over her: standing in her mother’s flower garden, pruning shears in hand, with a basket of roses in yellow, red, and pink hanging from the crook of her arm.
The memory faded, but a hint of rose blooms lingered in her nose. Her anxiety faded a little.
“I’ll be at the Spring Festival, one way or the other.” Jen gave Elsbeth one last hug. “Keep faith.”
Emotions bubbled up again, threatening to choke Elsbeth. She sniffed back tears, squeezed her e
yes shut, and turned away. Moments later, when she spun around, her two spirit-daughters were gone.
Chapter Eight
Jondu veered from the main path and took a smaller trail. The fresh snow snicked beneath her boots. Her toes already ached from the cold.
“Aren’t we going to the dump?” Jen asked.
“We’d better check out the passes first.” Jondu didn’t look back or slow her pace. “Won’t take long to take a look from Taproot’s watchtower.”
In a few minutes, they stood atop the granite cliff. Had Sim and Grant done the same thing before they continued to the landfill? Jondu looked around for signs of other one-spirits. No use. The snow had iced every surface.
“Pretty.” Jen shifted her pack. “Never seen it like this.”
Jondu had, many times. Only she never let anyone know she left the safety of the clangrounds during the winter. A traveler longed for movement, and she found it impossible to stay cooped up for five long months without venturing outside. She hoped her experience might prove helpful now.
“Mad Man’s Pass looks like solid snow pack.” Jondu shielded her eyes from the sun’s light reflecting from the ice.
“Aw, we can make it through that. Easy.”
Jondu turned and studied her spirit-sister. Sure, Jen was older. But not smarter. “I know a deer path we can take. It comes out near the pass. If they’ve been moving around since the storm, it will make it easier for us.”
Jen waved one hand. “Lead on.”
They descended through the slit in the granite. Then Jondu turned north. She stopped, searching the forest. “There.”
“I don’t see anything.”
“Believe me. It’s there.” Jondu worked her way through the thick drifts until she reached a stand of firs. The snow was tamped down, and a narrow path furrowed through the woods.
Once they shifted onto the deer trail, Jen stepped closer behind her. “How’d you know about this?”
“Uh . . . um . . .” Jondu hated to lie. “Deer and such usually have certain ways of moving about. They use this one during the warm months, so why not now?” Not exactly a lie. First time Jondu had chanced upon a deer trail slicing the snow, she had reached that conclusion. If Jen had the heart of a traveler, she would’ve figured the same. Surely, Sim would take the same trail.
Every now and then, roughened divots showed where the deer had pawed and nosed the snow, searching for food. In spite of the serious mission, Jondu enjoyed the trek. To be outside, in the crisp Emerald Mountain air! Free of the sense of dirt pressing down from above and the walls and floors keeping her captive. What if she could live topside all the time? A true traveler like the ones in Taproot’s legends would not call any underground cave home. Not for long.
Jondu spotted several rounded impressions, clearly not deer prints. Had to be one-spirit boots. In a spot where the evergreens failed to provide cover, the trail disappeared beneath the layer of fresh snow.
“I want you to walk a straight path toward that tree.” Jondu pointed the spot out to Jen. “Then turn around in a circle, standing in one place. Look for footprints.”
“What’s the point?” Jen rubbed her gloved hands together. “Shouldn’t we save our energy?”
Sure, Jondu thought. Barge ahead and we’re bound to come out somewhere. Maybe not the correct somewhere. “When you lose a track, it’s important to walk a grid, look for the place where the signs pick up again.” Jondu angled her body away from Jen. “Trust me on this, will you?”
Jen puffed out a frosty breath, but followed Jondu’s instructions.
Jondu called out, “If you find something, stop and I’ll come to you. If not, retrace your steps to where we both started.”
Somewhere in the glittery white, Sim and Grant’s boot prints would appear again. One-spirits didn’t just vanish. Unless something picked them up from above. Something hungry.
Two passes later, Jen whistled and waved her arms. Jondu tromped to her position. Though they were faint in the iced crust, two sets of footprints wove through the pines.
“Good job!” Jondu patted Jen on the back. “See, told you we’d pick up their trail.” She blew out a relieved breath.
“But I thought this was just some old deer path? Why did you—”
“Didn’t want to get your hopes up, just yet.” No need to tell Jen that luck played a part in this.
Jondu took note of another detail. At intervals, someone had snapped the dead ends of tree twigs, one way, then another break close to the first. No animal would do that.
The signal belonged to Grant. Jondu felt sure.
Sim wouldn’t take time for such.
The sun dipped lower by the time Jondu and Jen again reached a main trail. The sound of rushing water sounded nearby.
“Won’t be too much farther now. I can hear Mad Woman River.” Relief settled over Jondu. This trail was wider than the one they had just left, and she knew her way to the dump from here, even if Sim and Grant’s prints disappeared. Which they did.
“What if they’re not at the dump? What then?” Jen shivered.
“I know they’ll be there,” Jondu said with more conviction than she felt. “Sim wouldn’t go to all this trouble and not come home loaded down with dump-dive finds. He’s going to catch grief from Elsbeth as it is. If he comes back empty-handed . . .” Jondu paused. “You know how she can be.”
Jen nodded.
They walked side by side now. Jen kept up her usual running chatter. Jondu flicked her gaze from the path to the skies, watchful for predators. In a few minutes, they stood at the edge of Mad Woman Gorge.
The fierce water raced below them, jamming against the boulders before roaring downstream. Jondu leaned, turned left, then right. A fallen sapling caught her attention.
“Bet that’s where they crossed.”
Jen dashed ahead, stopping on the bank before putting one foot onto the trunk.
“Wait!” Jondu ordered. “No way we’re going across without a balance line.” She took her dump-dive rope from her pack and tied a rock around one end. Swinging the weighted line like a lasso, she whipped the line across the water.
“Drat!” she recoiled the rope. Tried again. And again. Until the rock looped around a low pine bough on the opposite shore. She pulled hard and the rock jammed into the space between the trunk and the limb. “That ought to hold. Now, tie your line around your waist, and loop it over the guide line.”
“I don’t get it.”
“If you slip, the rope will keep you from ending up in the river. I’ll pull you out.”
“Ah.” Jen’s eyebrows crimped together. “But, how will you get over?”
“Leave that to me.” Jondu wrapped the rope end around her waist and backed up until the line grew taunt. “Watch your footing,” she emphasized. “Go slow. I mean it!”
Jen inched across and lunged onto the far bank. As soon as Jondu knew her spirit-sister was in the clear, she started across, taking up the slack on the guide rope as she went. Not as secure as if someone held the line for her, but at least she would stand a chance if she fell.
“That was cool, the way you did that,” Jen said when Jondu jumped onto the bank beside her. “But how did you know . . .?”
“When you travel alone, you get creative.” Jondu untied her waist rope and jerked the other end from the tree.
“But when . . .?”
“No time to chit-chat.” Jondu stuffed the coiled rope into her pack. “We need to keep moving.”
When they reached the landfill, Jondu rested two fingertips between her pursed lips and puffed out three brief whistles. Twee. Twee. Twee. Nothing living answered. The wind gave a shushing cry. Jondu shuddered and pulled her scarf close.
“What now?” Jen dropped her pack and rubbed the crest of one shoulder.
The skies to the west hung low with clouds, heavy with the dark promise of another squall. Shafts of weak sun painted strips in the ice frosting the snowdrifts.
Jondu let her vision ro
am, taking in small details of this edge of the landfill. Except for a few scrabbled lines left by the ever-present dump rats, the last storm had swept the area clean of prints. A flash of blue caught her attention. “There!”
They jogged to a tower of layered boards where a snippet of colored material waved like a tiny flag. “Sim’s been here, for sure. He always marks his entrance, especially if he found something good.”
Jen turned her head right, then left. “So where are they?”
Easy answer, Jondu thought. Sim and Grant must’ve doubled back, before the last snowfall. “They’re probably at the Common Hall this very moment, all warm and full of food and tonic, making fun of us, up here freezing our tail feathers off.”
Then Jondu spotted something else. She walked toward a small clearing, surrounded by a semi-circle of boulders. The spot, she knew well. She and the one-spirits had made overnight camp here many times when the dump-dive treasures were too good to leave.
The remains of a large campfire rested beneath an overhanging slab of granite. Jondu kicked one charred limb aside and held her hand above the crumbled embers. Her mind whirred into gear. A lifeless lowlander fire. No Sim. No Grant. Her spirit iced cold. “We have to head back.”
Jen held up both hands. “It’s going to be dark soon. Shouldn’t we—?”
Jondu pulled her pack close. “If we have to stop, I’ll find a place for us to make camp. C’mon. Now!” She moved down the path as fast as the glazed rocks would allow. Once they rejoined the main trail, she stopped at regular intervals to study pieces of bent twigs. Jondu looked up and spotted jagged, torn branches high above their heads. The level of a lowlander’s passage. Not placed on purpose to mark a trail. The spit dried in her mouth.
Without speaking, Jondu increased her pace. Jen shuffled behind, firing off questions and grumbling when Jondu failed to answer.
When they reached Mad Woman Gorge, Jondu noticed something she hadn’t seen when they passed by on the way to the landfill: a glob of snow marbled with dark red. She crouched, held the colored ice crystals to her nose. Sniffed. She pawed the snow to reveal a deeper stain, this one much larger.
