Lambent and went looking for a good spot. She used the leaf-bladed sword to cut a slender sapling for a ridgepole, wincing as the merry dancing flickers of power bit deeply into the wood. It seemed wrong, somehow, to use her sword for this.
She chose two trees that were about ten feet apart and lashed the pole she’d cut to them at about head height to herself. Then she attached the tarp to it, angling it back to the ground. What little wind was coming down the valley would be deflected by the tarp. She chosen a slight slope toward the creek, close enough to the creek to build her fire in the rocky verge of the dry creek bed, where she was sure she wouldn’t start a forest fire. As she started the little blaze, she could almost hear her grandfather’s voice in her head telling her: “You planning on roasting an ox, or just staying warm?”
Linn sighed. They’d be warm, if hungry. Her tummy growled. She spread out her ground cloth and bag, and brought the kittens from the saddle, where they had stayed. They seemed to think it was a part of home. She could see their uncertainty in how they moved, and how they stayed close to each other, or her when she was still enough.
She broke off a chunk of her protein bar and offered a piece to each of them. They both sniffed, then gave her identical looks of disgust. Linn chuckled a little. “Sorry, boys, it’s what I’ve got tonight.”
Blackie turned and started to wash his brother.
“I guess that’s a no.” Linn ate the protein bar. “How about some water?”
That they deigned to lap from her cupped hands, giving them the water from the waterskin. She would have to find some birch bark so she could boil water before she’d use it from the puddles. And that would have to wait until morning. She didn’t want to go wandering around in the dark.
Pushing a stick a little farther into the fire and watching the sparks dance, Linn pulled her boots off and crawled into the sleeping bag. The kittens crept in on either side of her. She lay on her side looking at the fire, and slipped into sleep.
She didn’t dream at all that night. She awakened to a cold nose on her cheek, followed by a raspy tongue washing her face. Spluttering, she opened her eyes. Blackie was draped over her chest, bathing her. Spot One was a warm lump curled at the small of her back. Blackie started to purr.
“Poor baby.” Linn cuddled him in her arms. “You must be hungry, and wondering where your sisters are.”
She looked over to the fire, surprised to see that it was still alight. Then she saw the two rabbits hanging from her ridgepole. She sat up into the cold air, clutching Blackie, and looked around. The forest was empty and quiet in the dawn light. There were birds singing, and a far off chatter of a squirrel, but no movement.
Shivering a little, Linn climbed out of the sleeping bag and went to look at the carcasses. They had been killed with an arrow, she thought, shot through the heart, and then gutted and skinned. Tied with a bit of rawhide and hung over the ridgepole for her and the kittens' breakfast. She looked around. No sign anywhere, and nothing moving, as before. Still, she raised her voice and called, “Thank you!”
Leaving the kittens curled up in the warm sleeping bag, she cut a couple of sticks to cook the rabbits over the fire. Whoever had left her the rabbits had also pushed her sticks in and kept the fire going. As she prepared them, she stretched and tried to work the kinks out of her muscles. She might be young, but yesterday had been a very long day indeed.
The mare wandered over to have her nose patted. Linn loved the velvety feel of it and hugged the palomino’s neck for a minute, picking twigs and pine needles out of her mane. She didn’t have a curry comb, but she grabbed a handful of the long green pine needles and wadded them up and tried that. She didn’t know how much good it did, but the mare sighed and leaned into her, so it was making her happy, at
She chose two trees that were about ten feet apart and lashed the pole she’d cut to them at about head height to herself. Then she attached the tarp to it, angling it back to the ground. What little wind was coming down the valley would be deflected by the tarp. She chosen a slight slope toward the creek, close enough to the creek to build her fire in the rocky verge of the dry creek bed, where she was sure she wouldn’t start a forest fire. As she started the little blaze, she could almost hear her grandfather’s voice in her head telling her: “You planning on roasting an ox, or just staying warm?”
Linn sighed. They’d be warm, if hungry. Her tummy growled. She spread out her ground cloth and bag, and brought the kittens from the saddle, where they had stayed. They seemed to think it was a part of home. She could see their uncertainty in how they moved, and how they stayed close to each other, or her when she was still enough.
She broke off a chunk of her protein bar and offered a piece to each of them. They both sniffed, then gave her identical looks of disgust. Linn chuckled a little. “Sorry, boys, it’s what I’ve got tonight.”
Blackie turned and started to wash his brother.
“I guess that’s a no.” Linn ate the protein bar. “How about some water?”
That they deigned to lap from her cupped hands, giving them the water from the waterskin. She would have to find some birch bark so she could boil water before she’d use it from the puddles. And that would have to wait until morning. She didn’t want to go wandering around in the dark.
Pushing a stick a little farther into the fire and watching the sparks dance, Linn pulled her boots off and crawled into the sleeping bag. The kittens crept in on either side of her. She lay on her side looking at the fire, and slipped into sleep.
She didn’t dream at all that night. She awakened to a cold nose on her cheek, followed by a raspy tongue washing her face. Spluttering, she opened her eyes. Blackie was draped over her chest, bathing her. Spot One was a warm lump curled at the small of her back. Blackie started to purr.
“Poor baby.” Linn cuddled him in her arms. “You must be hungry, and wondering where your sisters are.”
She looked over to the fire, surprised to see that it was still alight. Then she saw the two rabbits hanging from her ridgepole. She sat up into the cold air, clutching Blackie, and looked around. The forest was empty and quiet in the dawn light. There were birds singing, and a far off chatter of a squirrel, but no movement.
Shivering a little, Linn climbed out of the sleeping bag and went to look at the carcasses. They had been killed with an arrow, she thought, shot through the heart, and then gutted and skinned. Tied with a bit of rawhide and hung over the ridgepole for her and the kittens' breakfast. She looked around. No sign anywhere, and nothing moving, as before. Still, she raised her voice and called, “Thank you!”
Leaving the kittens curled up in the warm sleeping bag, she cut a couple of sticks to cook the rabbits over the fire. Whoever had left her the rabbits had also pushed her sticks in and kept the fire going. As she prepared them, she stretched and tried to work the kinks out of her muscles. She might be young, but yesterday had been a very long day indeed.
The mare wandered over to have her nose patted. Linn loved the velvety feel of it and hugged the palomino’s neck for a minute, picking twigs and pine needles out of her mane. She didn’t have a curry comb, but she grabbed a handful of the long green pine needles and wadded them up and tried that. She didn’t know how much good it did, but the mare sighed and leaned into her, so it was making her happy, at
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