Green Comet

Announcement

I have decided to release The Plainsrunner under a Creative Commons license – Creative Commons Attribution Share-Alike (CC-BY-SA). To celebrate that, I am going to publish it here serially, one chapter at a time.

rjb

Chapter Six – Camping Out

After she set up camp, Sage ended up staying there longer than she should have. She just couldn’t think of what else to do. She knew it couldn’t last, of course. Her food would run out and she would have to find a way of getting more. She might be able to forage enough to get the plants she needed, but she would have to range pretty far to do it. She could also eat grass and leaves in a pinch. There was still enough of her grazing ancestors in her to digest a bit of that, but too much would end up blocking her system. And with her small, vestigial snout holding fewer and smaller teeth, she would have trouble eating that much anyway. She knew all that. She thought about it every long, empty day. Still, she stayed. She didn’t know what else to do.

When her food started running low she found herself thinking more about home. She would daydream about her mother’s home-cooking. The hot, satisfying soups. The sweet, chewy cakes. Her mouth would water over the memories that she could almost smell and taste. Then she would look at the dry, flavorless food that she was eating every day, and she would sink even further. That’s when she started going back to the village at night.

At first she hung back, just standing in the dark and looking. There were just a few lights inside the wall. She could see bits of the huts here and there in the soft glow in the compound. She could picture it all in her mind. The central common. The big village hut, where people met and the elders made their decisions, surrounded by the smaller huts where people lived and slept. She could see her hut. She corrected herself, stifling a sob. Her parents’ hut. It wasn’t hers any more. The straw in that corner was no longer her bed. She would never stand around the table again, regaling them with her adventures. She covered her face with her hands and cried harder than she ever had before. All the childhood drama and tragedy, so big and important at the time, was washed away by this overwhelming realization. Everything she loved, all the places, the things and the people, were lost to her forever.

Heedless of everything, with no thought for night fliers or night stalkers, she stumbled back to her camp in the dark. It would have been a good time for a predator to come for her because she wouldn’t have had the spirit to fight for her life.

In the morning she was horrified. She shuddered at the thought of how vulnerable she had allowed herself to be, and she swore that it would never happen again. She checked her defenses. She checked her weapons. There was her knife with the twenty centimeter blade of fine steel, acquired by her father from the hard, nomadic traders on one of their yearly visits. And there was the spear, with a thirty centimeter blade. She examined them thoroughly for wear and damage and sharpened them both to a lethal edge. As she worked, she talked to herself. She told herself to stop being a fool. She told herself that she wouldn’t give the elders the satisfaction of letting herself get killed right here on their doorstep. She told herself that the village wouldn’t be telling those stories about her. “It’s time to go,” she said. “Time to move on.” The glider vibrated on the ground where it sat with the rest of her gear, ready to be packed.

Sage was by the village wall in the dark of night. It was where she and Tallgrass used to meet when they wanted to sneak off on one of their adventures. She picked up small pebbles and tossed them over the wall and onto the roof of the hut where Tallgrass lived. She was pretty sure she was hitting it over the corner where he slept. She’d done it often enough before.

Finally she heard a knock on the wall and she headed toward the gate. It opened a crack and before she could speak, Tallgrass handed out a sack of food. He looked in her eyes, his face filled with friendship, regret and fear. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I knew you would come, so I saved this food for you. But you have to go.” There were tears in his eyes.

“Wait,” she whispered. “What’s wrong? I want to talk.”

“I can’t,” he said. “I have to go.” He looked really frightened. “They said anyone who helps you will be banished too.”

Sage pulled back and looked around. Her ears swiveled, listening as hard as they ever had for dangers in the night. She said, “I’d better go,” and turned her head to leave.

“Wait,” said Tallgrass. “Your father wanted me to tell you something.”

“My father?” Sage came back.

“Yes. In case I ever spoke to you, he said.”

“My father.” Her throat was tight.

“Yes. He said to tell you to go to the city.”

“The city?”

“Yes. He says follow the river and you should get there in about a month.”

“But the city is …”

“Bad. I know. But he says you’ll have a chance there. He says no one can survive on their own on the plains.”

Sage wanted to protest that she was surviving, but she knew in her heart that it couldn’t last. She saw her friend looking at her bandaged ear and knew that was true. She said, “You’d better get back before someone sees you.”

He glanced behind him. “Okay,” he said. “Good luck, Sage.”

“Thank you.” She hefted the bag of food, her mind spinning with things she wanted to say. Finally, with her voice trembling, she said, “I love you, Tallgrass.”

He said, “I love you too, Sage.”

She turned and walked into the darkness, heading for her campsite on the river. She heard the gate close softly behind her, and the wooden bar slide into place to lock it. It was as if it had slid like a spear between her ribs and into her heart.

“The city,” she said to the darkness. “Father wants me to go to the city.” It was as if he said he wanted her to open the gate and let the night stalkers into the village. The city was a mysterious place to her. If anyone ever spoke of it, they did so with fear and contempt. Evil things happened in the city and evil people lived there. They forgot about the old ways and the old laws, and they did things that were much worse than what she had done, and would get them punished with far worse than banishment. It would never have occurred to her to go there, even to survive.

As preoccupied as she was, she only heard the rustling grass at the last second. She reacted instinctively, wheeling her haunches around out of the way. She felt her skin tear as the night stalker’s claws raked it, but it couldn’t hang on. She realized her knife was in her hand, and the sack of food in the other. In the darkness she could tell where the predator was mostly with her ears and her nose. At best she could see only hints of shape and motion.

The night stalker had better night vision than she did, and she knew that it would be able to use that to its advantage. Her only chance was to keep it from getting behind her, to hold it off and hope it got impatient enough to make a mistake. She threw the bag of food at it and heard it hiss and growl as it tore at it. There wouldn’t be anything in there to interest it for long. The bag would have mostly dried foods for the trail, and not much of it meat. She didn’t want to buy it off, only to distract it long enough for her to draw her spear.

Now she was more dangerous. Now she at least had a chance, however slim. As the night stalker sensed this, it changed from attack mode to stalking mode. It made feinting advances, repelled by her thrusting spear as she vaguely sensed them. It was a standoff for now, but she knew it was only a matter of time before it wore her down. If she could see, it would be a different matter, but she couldn’t, and that disadvantage would kill her.

There was a flickering in the darkness, then the area lit up as a torch spun down and hit the ground five meters to her right. The night stalker shied away from it as she moved toward it. She sheathed her knife and picked up the torch, all the while staring at the snarling animal.

It was edging sideways, its six legs bent in a crouch. It was built low to the ground, with a wide, flat body. She could see its scales glimmering dully in the torchlight. What most drew her eye was its face. It had a huge head with a gaping mouth full of teeth. All four of its eyes glittered on the front of its face. Predator eyes.

It was obviously afraid of the fire. Its eyes kept shifting between the torch and her face. It couldn’t get any closer, but it couldn’t leave either. It had felt her skin tear under its claws and it was full of the lust for her blood. It couldn’t come any closer, but it couldn’t go away, so it sidled around her, saliva dripping from its snarling mouth.

Sage had the torch in her right hand and her spear in her left, and she kept them both pointed at the stalker as she turned. Her heart and breathing slowed now that the odds were evened up. Before she had been almost certain to die soon, and now she had a chance. With time to think, though, she realized that this couldn’t go on forever. She didn’t think the torch would last until the morning light, and she didn’t know if she could concentrate for that long anyway. All it would take was one lapse and the animal would be on her.

“We’ll have to change things up then, won’t we?” she said. The stalker cocked its head curiously at the sound of her voice.

She thrust the torch at its face, and when it backed up, she moved forward and jabbed at it with the spear. It batted the spear away and she lunged with the torch, making it scramble backwards. She’d timed it so she had it between her and the village wall, and now she kept moving at it. The spear, then the torch, then the spear, then the torch again. Talking the whole time. Telling it she was going to kill it. Telling it exactly how it was going to die.

It glanced over its shoulder at the wall, saw how close it was and let fear take over. Hunger and blood lust lost out to self-preservation. With a final frustrated hiss, it turned and ran off into the night, its six legs a scuttling blur.

She watched it go, both relieved and disappointed. The torch and spear drooped toward the ground and she straightened up out of her combat stance. Her vision lost its narrow focus, and she began to notice the small night sounds again. She looked up at the village wall and saw a silhouette against the faint glow of the compound. She couldn’t see, but she knew it was Tallgrass. She raised the torch in thanks. He raised his hand. They looked at each other for a long time, then he dropped out of sight. She stared at the empty space, then she stuck the spear in its sheath and gathered up as much of the sack of food as she could find. Clutching the torn sack in her left hand and the torch in her right, she headed for the river, stopping to scuff out some smoldering grass on the way.

Announcement

I have decided to release The Plainsrunner under a Creative Commons license – Creative Commons Attribution Share-Alike (CC-BY-SA). To celebrate that, I am going to publish it here serially, one chapter at a time.

rjb

Chapter Five – Now What

When she reached down to pick up the blanket, Sage noticed a few drops of blood falling on it. My ear, she thought, recalling the day flier’s talon striking her. She didn’t remember any pain then, and didn’t feel any now. Must not be too bad, she thought as she rummaged in one of the panniers for first aid supplies. As she was pulling out the bag she remembered that it was her mother who insisted on putting it in there. She tried to reconcile that with her mother’s cool aloofness before she left. She hadn’t even come to the gate to say good-bye. Sage shook her head thinking she would never understand motherhood.

The medicine bag had a small mirror in it. Just the thing if you’re attempting first aid on yourself. She held it up and examined her ear. It was worse than she thought. The top of her right ear was split by a three centimeter tear. The ear was covered in blood and it had run all down that side of her head and neck. The good news was that the bleeding had slowed down already. The wound was just oozing a trickle now.

She got out her water bag and used it to rinse her ear. She could clean up the rest later. For now she just needed to get a good look at the tear so she could see what needed doing. She propped the mirror on the pannier and pressed the wound together, then she bound it so it would stay. It was more difficult than it had to be because her hands were shaking. Come on, she told herself. It’s barely a scratch. Just a bit of blood. Nothing to get all shaky about. You’ve had worse playing in the compound with the other kids.

She finally got it wrapped up and used the mirror to admire her work. She thought she looked ridiculous with a great white flag for an ear, and she was laughing at herself as she stowed her gear and put on the blanket and panniers. “Okay,” she said as she started down the hill, “fliers should have no trouble spotting me now.” When repacking the pannier, she had taken care to fix the rattle. At least, she thought, they might have more trouble hearing me.

She found the glider right where she thought it would be. She picked it up and found that it had no marks on it. Even the flier’s talons hadn’t managed to put a scratch on its smooth surface. There was no material this light that could do that. Maybe a glazed ceramic. Or glass. Like her mirror, or those few bottles and jars the village had traded for. But if the glider was made out of that stuff, then it would be far heavier than it was. As she was lashing it on she said, “So, who made you?”

She looked past the jumbled blocks and up the high cliff. She could see where she’d thrown the glider from, and she had a small pang when she thought about how close she was to following it. If the flier had hit her more squarely she would have been knocked over the edge. Then the flier would have plucked her out of the air and taken her back to its aerie. If she hadn’t died by then, she would have as it was tearing her apart to eat. She looked down at her hands and saw that they were shaking badly. Worse than before. Her breath was shallow, she could feel her heart pounding, and her legs felt weak and trembly.

She ran her eyes along the cliff face and soon picked up where the flier’s aerie must be. There was a lot of guano on the sheer wall below it, and she thought she saw some movement. Looking more closely she could see that the nest was occupied by at least one, and possibly two young fliers. They were waiting for the adult to bring them back some food. Sage shivered at the thought that it could have been her.

She found herself looking at the cliff above and below the nest, and she realized that she was trying to see if she could get at it. She was thinking about whether she could destroy it and kill these young fliers before they could grow up into big fliers. She shook her head and turned away. “You can’t do that,” she said. Glancing back she thought, it’s too dangerous anyway.

Now she didn’t know what to do. Should she go back up the Scarp and throw the glider again? She couldn’t think why. Maybe she should go for a run out on the plain. That used to be one of her favorite things. Running until she was panting in sweet exhaustion, and then trotting back to the village, to friends, family and food.

Her stomach jumped and her breath caught. Again it hit her: this was real. She would never be going back to the village again. This wasn’t just an adventure for a day or two. This was a life sentence. She wasn’t going to see her friends again. Or her family. And the only food she would have was what she had brought, and when that was gone, what she could find.

She turned her head toward the river, hitched her panniers for better balance, and started walking. It was as good a place as any to spend the night. She told herself not to think beyond that for now. Walking slowly toward her campsite on the river, she said, “What’s the point of thinking about it? What would be the point of that?”

If the glider vibrated, she didn’t feel it through the pannier.

Announcement

I have decided to release The Plainsrunner under a Creative Commons license – Creative Commons Attribution Share-Alike (CC-BY-SA). To celebrate that, I am going to publish it here serially, one chapter at a time.

rjb

Chapter Four – The Scarp

In the morning Sage broke camp and headed for the Scarp. She thought about keeping the campsite. It was a good spot. It had shelter in the trees and easy access to flowing water. It was easy to defend and there were plenty of resources close to hand. It would be convenient to set up a permanent camp and work from there. And, she admitted to herself, it was close to the village. That’s why she broke camp finally. She knew in her logical mind, even though her emotional mind still didn’t see it, that she was never going back. Even though she couldn’t let go yet, she knew that she would have to eventually. So she packed up her camp as a gesture to herself.

It was a stern gesture and she had a stern look on her face when she set out. Her head was up proudly and her eyes looked ahead with sharp anticipation. Her front eyes, anyway. Her side eyes ceaselessly scanned about her, behind her and above, sensitive to the smallest sign of danger. They were her subconscious safety system, for the prey half of her, while her forward looking eyes served the seeking part. The predator side of her. That side was looking stern, but also eager. All her life she’d been looking for adventure and now, as bad as it was, this would certainly be an adventure. So her stern eyes also gleamed with anticipation.

It took an hour at an easy canter to get to the base of the Scarp, and another hour of climbing to get to the top. As she climbed she listened for the rattle in her right pannier. It was only occasional now, but during the canter it was persistent. She thought she knew what it was and she had a pretty good idea what it would take to fix it. She certainly wasn’t going to put up with this forever and she was planning to repack it when she stopped at the top.

She snapped out of her musing and stood still halfway up. She thought she’d caught something in her peripheral vision and she stopped to make a complete scan. She scoured the grass all around her for hundreds of meters and saw nothing. No telltale shape of a day runner’s head peering through the grass. Nothing moving where it shouldn’t be moving, and nothing still where it shouldn’t be still. But that was just precautionary. It was something she did regularly anyway. The real purpose of this scan was to search the sky. She hadn’t been able to identify whatever it was that caught her attention, but she knew it had been in the sky.

She did the usual: pick a spot and take it in, then pick another spot, and so on. It didn’t take long before she found it. Less than a thousand meters up, circling in a thermal, was a day flier, its four meter wings spread to catch the updraft. She felt a chill in the scales over her ribs, where its talons would grip her as it carried her away.

It must have just started its ascent, catching the first thermals of the day. That was just about right, she thought. With the time she’d spent packing and then traveling, the eastward facing Scarp should be heating up nicely by now. The day flier would have spread its wings in its aerie to absorb the Sun’s heat, then leapt into the rising air when the time was right. It was still close enough that she could make out some details on it. The gleam of its scales as it banked and wheeled in the sunlight. The heavy talons hanging below it. The big hooked beak for ripping the flesh from its prey.

Sage kept an eye on it as she returned to her climb. She was wary but not too worried. Even though it had enough height to swoop on her now, she didn’t think it would. Day fliers were creatures of habit and they liked to ride a thermal as high as it would take them before beginning to hunt. If it came after her now, and missed, it would have to go back to the cliff and start over. It might even have to walk if it lost lift and had to land. They couldn’t launch themselves into the air from the ground. They needed to be able to soar to carry their weight. So it would have had to walk, and they hated to walk. They were awkward and ungainly on the ground, and vulnerable. On the ground they could be attacked by day runners, or even a Plainsrunner with a spear.

The slope continued up all the way to the edge. As Sage thought about it, she imagined the earth tearing loose and heaving upward. She thought that the land might have been flat here, unbroken like the rest of the prairie, and then this piece thrust up at an angle for some reason. She couldn’t imagine the reason. Why would the land, which was to her the very essence of permanence, break like this?

She was thinking about that when she reached the edge. She had stayed near the left side on the way up and now she was standing on the highest part of the Scarp. In addition to the long, gradual slope behind her, the surface descended gently to her right. Stretching her neck out over the edge, she could see tumbled rock piled at the bottom of the cliff, almost three hundred meters down. She knew those blocks of broken cliff were bigger than the huts in her village, but they looked small from up here.

She wasn’t afraid of falling since most of her weight was planted on four sturdy hooves well behind, but it was still a thrill. Her healthy imagination had no trouble seeing the edge crumble and those broken rocks far below rushing toward her. She snorted and shook her head, then backed away.

As she removed her panniers and blanket, the skin on her face and neck remembered the warm wind they’d felt coming up the cliff face. She knew this was the same wind that blew the day fliers high up into the sky, and she thought about the one she’d seen earlier. She took the time for a thorough scan, but saw nothing on the ground or in the air.

The glider was lashed to her right pannier. She untied it and lifted it free, still a little surprised at its heft. She trotted back a ways, then turned and galloped for the edge. When she got close she planted her feet and threw the glider as hard as she could out over the prairie far below. It caught the air and its front end pitched up. Then the thermal caught it and pushed it upward. She could see when it fell off the rising air not far above her. It completed one and a half turns before skidding on the grass not twenty meters away. She trotted over to retrieve it.

When she threw it again she gave it a downward trajectory. This time when it pitched up it only made it level out. It immediately went into its turn, which brought it back toward the cliff, but it veered away before striking it. In her mind’s eye Sage pictured how the updraft, or any wind, would push on things. She remembered the feeling of wind in her face as she ran across the plain. She recalled seeing the waves in the grass after someone ran by. Something clicked as she realized that the glider was pushing air before it and that’s what turned it away from the cliff. The air pushed on it, but it also pushed on the air.

With her mind joyously reveling in its discovery, she watched the glider rise slowly on the thermal, all the while circling downward. Then it fell off the rising air and began a slow, measured descent. It wasn’t like a day flier that could sense where the updrafts were and stay on them.

Something caught her eye. Some vague change in the light. And her ears picked up the faintest rushing sound. She didn’t turn to look, and that saved her life. Instead, she hunkered down and backed up as quickly as she could. The day flier screamed as it passed over her, but all its grasping talons caught was one of her ears, which it tore. She rushed back to the edge, while rapidly scanning for a second flier. It was rare, but sometimes they hunted in pairs.

She was in time to see the flier swoop heavily and grab her glider. It dropped it quickly and Sage thought it must be too slippery to hold. Its slight weight would also be disappointing to a ravenous raptor. The flier let loose its horrible, grating scream again and wheeled away to find another thermal.

Sage’s eyes went back to the glider, which was again circling serenely toward the ground. She watched it all the way down, marked its location, and went to get her blanket and panniers.