Move on.
As blessed darkness wrapped around her, she kept walking. The moon. The moon. Forget the moon. She had walked to deep mother under its open eye yet lived. Strange shapes loomed, moving and shifting and making her wince. Keep going. Keep going down.
Even when a bank of clouds blew up and began to extinguish the stars, one by one, she kept lurching forward. Suddenly her left foot came down into emptiness. She relaxed into the fall, as Old Tamlin had taught her. Still, the jolt of the ground knocked her breath away. She began to roll. With the taste of panic hot in her mouth, she grabbed for anything to slow herself, but she tumbled and slid until she thudded against something. Her side burned from ankle to shoulder, where rocks had scraped her.
Close by, she could make out tree roots that swelled out of the ground. After pushing in among them, she struggled to untie the blanket.
A bird screech woke her up in the early morning. She wanted to curl tightly into the roots and whimper. Instead she rubbed her hand gingerly along her thigh, glad for the pain that helped her know she was alive.
Slowly she rolled her blanket and stared at the designs on her arms, thinking again about Ooden. Nazeti. Then she looked around and said a prayer of thanks that she had not tumbled off a cliff in the dark. Searching, she discovered yellow berries. They made her mouth dry but took away the hunger.
Be strong. As she found her stride, the sun came out, and she felt a bubbling of joy. Who would have believed anyone could get free from Arkera deep mother? She laughed out loud, then clapped her hand over her mouth.
If only she had a guide. When did Song-makerâs work begin? Had he walked to Arkera deep mother or joined the Arkera somewhere in the red forest? What if he had managed to stay alive? Would he work for the Arkera again? She wondered what he would think when he heard of her escape.
Soon thick brush began to crowd her, and she had to fight for each step. Where the bushes ended, a field of stubby trees hunched like angry little men. She whirled. No one.
Cautiously she skirted the trees. They seemed human. Were they evil spirits in disguise? She didnât dare take her gaze from them. In her fear, she missed the dropoff until she had begun to slide again. She grabbed for wiry branches that stuck out from between rocks like scrawny arms. Pain seared her palms. But better hurt hands than a smashed body. Gasping, she eased herself down, using the branches as if they were pieces of rope to cling to.
Then the branches ran out. She blinked away sweat, trying to see what was below. Finally she let go, slid, and landed with a thump.
It was a while before she could ease onto her back. After she had treated her torn palms and scratches with more helicht oil, she sat up and looked around. Smooth rocks stretched in front of her as far as she could see. This must be the bed of some ancient dried-up lake.
She longed to let out a howling wail. The cliff was too steep for her to climb back the way she had come. But going out onto the lake of rocks, with no tree or other cover in sight, would expose her to any enemy or beast.
Shhh-shhh-shhh. Just try it. Maybe it wasnât so bad. When she took her first step onto the rocks, they clacked under her feet with a loud, grating noise. She jumped off. Back at the cliff, she grabbed a handful of grass and tried to hoist herself up; but the roots pulled loose, and she fell backward.
While the sun crawled high into the sky, she stomped up and down the shore, waving her arms in frustration, looking wildly for some other way.
Eventually she rubbed her head, scowling at the rocks. No choice. But every footstep made her grimace. When she slipped, the rocks crackled even more loudly.
She stopped, squatted low against the rocks, and thought about what would come next. Impossible to get far in this dry time, because moving among trees without leaves, she would be nearly as vulnerable and visible
As blessed darkness wrapped around her, she kept walking. The moon. The moon. Forget the moon. She had walked to deep mother under its open eye yet lived. Strange shapes loomed, moving and shifting and making her wince. Keep going. Keep going down.
Even when a bank of clouds blew up and began to extinguish the stars, one by one, she kept lurching forward. Suddenly her left foot came down into emptiness. She relaxed into the fall, as Old Tamlin had taught her. Still, the jolt of the ground knocked her breath away. She began to roll. With the taste of panic hot in her mouth, she grabbed for anything to slow herself, but she tumbled and slid until she thudded against something. Her side burned from ankle to shoulder, where rocks had scraped her.
Close by, she could make out tree roots that swelled out of the ground. After pushing in among them, she struggled to untie the blanket.
A bird screech woke her up in the early morning. She wanted to curl tightly into the roots and whimper. Instead she rubbed her hand gingerly along her thigh, glad for the pain that helped her know she was alive.
Slowly she rolled her blanket and stared at the designs on her arms, thinking again about Ooden. Nazeti. Then she looked around and said a prayer of thanks that she had not tumbled off a cliff in the dark. Searching, she discovered yellow berries. They made her mouth dry but took away the hunger.
Be strong. As she found her stride, the sun came out, and she felt a bubbling of joy. Who would have believed anyone could get free from Arkera deep mother? She laughed out loud, then clapped her hand over her mouth.
If only she had a guide. When did Song-makerâs work begin? Had he walked to Arkera deep mother or joined the Arkera somewhere in the red forest? What if he had managed to stay alive? Would he work for the Arkera again? She wondered what he would think when he heard of her escape.
Soon thick brush began to crowd her, and she had to fight for each step. Where the bushes ended, a field of stubby trees hunched like angry little men. She whirled. No one.
Cautiously she skirted the trees. They seemed human. Were they evil spirits in disguise? She didnât dare take her gaze from them. In her fear, she missed the dropoff until she had begun to slide again. She grabbed for wiry branches that stuck out from between rocks like scrawny arms. Pain seared her palms. But better hurt hands than a smashed body. Gasping, she eased herself down, using the branches as if they were pieces of rope to cling to.
Then the branches ran out. She blinked away sweat, trying to see what was below. Finally she let go, slid, and landed with a thump.
It was a while before she could ease onto her back. After she had treated her torn palms and scratches with more helicht oil, she sat up and looked around. Smooth rocks stretched in front of her as far as she could see. This must be the bed of some ancient dried-up lake.
She longed to let out a howling wail. The cliff was too steep for her to climb back the way she had come. But going out onto the lake of rocks, with no tree or other cover in sight, would expose her to any enemy or beast.
Shhh-shhh-shhh. Just try it. Maybe it wasnât so bad. When she took her first step onto the rocks, they clacked under her feet with a loud, grating noise. She jumped off. Back at the cliff, she grabbed a handful of grass and tried to hoist herself up; but the roots pulled loose, and she fell backward.
While the sun crawled high into the sky, she stomped up and down the shore, waving her arms in frustration, looking wildly for some other way.
Eventually she rubbed her head, scowling at the rocks. No choice. But every footstep made her grimace. When she slipped, the rocks crackled even more loudly.
She stopped, squatted low against the rocks, and thought about what would come next. Impossible to get far in this dry time, because moving among trees without leaves, she would be nearly as vulnerable and visible
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