Luna's eyes fluttered open her bright blue eyes seemed to glow in the low light of the cabin. She sat up. Her body ached. She shivered at the cold of the air as the blankets and furs that covered her fell into her lap. It was cold on this side of the RichTy. She pulled the blankets up and looked around the one room of the cabin. Thorn was curled up with Quinn on one of the rugs next to the stone fireplace. The little light in the cabin was from the dieing embers of the fire from the night before. And from the little slit of light that came in over the door. Luna noticed some cloths on the one table in the room and picked them up. They had obviously been Thorn's but he had tailored them to fit her. She put them on, they were big but comfortable, and climbed out of the bed. The fabric felt odd on the weakly healed wounds that covered her body but it felt better than the cold air. It occurred to her that her fever must have broken in the night. She stood on her own for the first time in almost a week and moved to the door, longing for fresh air.
The sudden light in the cabin woke Quinn he looked up and saw Luna pass through the door. he sat up making Thorn's arm flop to the ground. Quinn quickly moved to the door before Luna closed it all the way and slipped out into the early morning sun.
Thorn lay sprawled on the floor snoring.
The smell of cooking bacon roused Thorn to consciousness. He sat up quickly and took in everything in his little one room cabin. Luna sat on the floor next to the fireplace tending the cooking bacon. Quinn lay next to her waging his tail eager for bacon.
"Your alive... I mean, your up... I mean, good morning." Luna smiled and Thorn's heart skipped a beat. It had been a long time sense he had seen something so beautiful.
"I hope you do not mind. I was hungry and found the bacon and eggs and some bread so I thought I would make some breakfast."
"No, no, not at all I'm sorry I slept in for so long." Thorn stood the rest of the way up and found nature call. "If you will pardon me for a moment." Luna smiled and laughed as Thorn dashed through the door to the privy.
"He is an odd one." Luna said to Quinn patting the dog on the head. Thorn came back in much calmer than her had left. He sat down next to the dog and started over again.
"So I'm assuming that you are feeling better?"
"Yes, indeed. Thank you," She said. "And I never got a chance to thank you for saving me from the MalAla the other day. And from exposure. And from the fever. I suppose I own you a great deal."
"No, to be honest I have not had so much excitement in years." Thorn did not really know why he had said that, he had not enjoyed a moment of life sense he set eyes on this woman... but it had been exciting. "MalAla, is that what those things were."
"Oh, yes, you have probably never seen them. The term MalAla roughly means 'Twisted Men.' I wish that I could have stayed conscious to see you fight them they are notoriously hard to kill." Luna's smile seemed to brighten the cabin. "To see a man kill two of them with little more than a scratch would have been a site."
Thorn wished he could explain that it had not really been his skills that had killed the two MalAla. His body had not seemed to truly be in his control. He had simply done the only things he could do at the time. It had felt so natural but at the same time he had not felt like himself. Thorn wished he could explain this but he did not know how. He really did not want to tell this woman that a part of him regretted killing those men. So all he said was; "It was nothing really."
The room was silent for a moment while all three of them wolfed down their breakfast. Luna had been hungry and Luna and Quinn just ate like that.
"So, what are you doing out here all by yourself being chased by MalAla?" Thorn meant the question to be slightly humorous. Luna did not laugh.
"I'm going to meet somebody." Luna said focused on soaking up the last of the egg with a bit of bread.
"Oh, who?" Thorn asked and immediately regretted it. He did not really want to know anything about people who's meeting would try to be stopped by the likes of MalAla.
"Not really meet but find. I'm looking for somebody." Thorn did not push it further and the meal concluded in silence. Just a Thorn moved to the door, Luna asked a question of her own. "Thorn, what did you do with bodies?"
"I buried them... in separate graves of appropriate depth." Thorn was not sure why he had added that last part.
"Good, they were men, even if their souls had been twisted beyond recognition, they were still men." It felt as if Luna were speaking Thorn's thoughts out loud. It was as if she were twisting a dagger in his heart. Thorn closed the door and started chopping wood with that ax that he had used to kill a man.
6.3.09
5.3.09
Feaver Dreams
The woman woke the other day. Her name is Luna and her voice is like the birds of spring. I had forgotten what it was like to hear another human's voice. I did not push her very hard the first day her strength was slow in coming to her. So I did not ask her any questions about anything, just her name. I now wish I had asked more question.
It would seem that the cold of hypothermia staved off the infection in her wounds. Soon after her body was warm again infection set in and by the end of that first day fevers took her. She has not been coherent sense. That was three days ago. The fever has been steady for two days now and I worry that if it does not break soon she may die of exhaustion.
She dreams often and mutters words and names that I have never heard before. I think that they might be in a different language but I can not be sure. For all I know it is just the random mutterings of somebody who's body is being ravaged by infection. What troubles me the most though is how often my name is found in those sentences that she unknowingly says in her sleep. She has known me for less than a day. How can my name be such a part of her subconscious? A question for when she wakes...if she wakes.
I find that the fates tend to play tricks on me. They give me the hurt and wounded to care for and fix. First Eva then Quinn and now Luna. At the same time that I seem to be in a position to fix and rebuild, I must destroy and kill as I do it. It is a cruel joke to balance something as precious as life with something as horrid as death. Though, I'm not sure envy those that have all of one and none of the other.
What is to become of this woman? Where is she going? Will death act once again through my hands? I cannot help but think that this woman is of great importance. How the fates have put her into the worst of hands. I need to get her to the village as soon as I can. hopefully I will not have another death on my hands.
It would seem that the cold of hypothermia staved off the infection in her wounds. Soon after her body was warm again infection set in and by the end of that first day fevers took her. She has not been coherent sense. That was three days ago. The fever has been steady for two days now and I worry that if it does not break soon she may die of exhaustion.
She dreams often and mutters words and names that I have never heard before. I think that they might be in a different language but I can not be sure. For all I know it is just the random mutterings of somebody who's body is being ravaged by infection. What troubles me the most though is how often my name is found in those sentences that she unknowingly says in her sleep. She has known me for less than a day. How can my name be such a part of her subconscious? A question for when she wakes...if she wakes.
I find that the fates tend to play tricks on me. They give me the hurt and wounded to care for and fix. First Eva then Quinn and now Luna. At the same time that I seem to be in a position to fix and rebuild, I must destroy and kill as I do it. It is a cruel joke to balance something as precious as life with something as horrid as death. Though, I'm not sure envy those that have all of one and none of the other.
What is to become of this woman? Where is she going? Will death act once again through my hands? I cannot help but think that this woman is of great importance. How the fates have put her into the worst of hands. I need to get her to the village as soon as I can. hopefully I will not have another death on my hands.
4.3.09
Humanity
It has been so long sense I have had any exposure to another human. I never expected my reintroduction to be as it was. A beautiful woman on the edge of death being perused by two men that could hardly be considered human at first glance. If I would have know that they were humans I would like to say that I never have killed them. If they had been wolves, or bears, or lions, or anything of the forest I would not have killed them, not like that. Perhaps I'm glad that they were humans. Perhaps it is a mark of how far I have been removed from my humanity when I feel that it is easier to kill one of my own species than it is to kill something else. Or perhaps that is simply a mark of being a human.
But then there is this woman. I have not seen a woman in five years. I know nothing about her, about who she is, or about what those others were chasing her for but when I saw her and she spoke to me some deep need to protect welled up inside me. That idea of protecting the weak against the strong seems to be the epitome of human nature. No, it is not the epitome of human nature. Human nature is the same a animal nature; survival. But what causes a man to save one and kill two? It is they way that you approach the man. The one approached in such a way that instantly makes them one of the pack, even Quinn noticed that. The others...well they were of another pack.
I returned to those men that I killed to try and learn more about what I have gotten myself into before the woman wakes. Their armor plates are almost and inch thick and cover every inch of their bodies. They must run on all fours the way they do because of the weight of that metal. They run on their knuckles letting their hands grasp what ever they need as they run. Many of the metal plates must have been attached to them sense they were young because their bodies have grown around the plates and incorporated them into the creatures body. This is how the tails are attached, a plate of metal that must have been attached soon after birth because the first plate of both of their tails was embedded into their pelvis. Each of them had an engraved metal disk on their right shoulder. They were sightly different but very similar. I think that they are a way of signifying the creatures name or what tribe they belong to or something. I can not help but wonder what mutilation of the soul could result in two creatures like this. What is worses is that judging from the methodical almost ritualistic way the plates were attached these are by no means the only two of a kind but more likely individuals of a huge populations of these creatures.
I buried the bodies. I did not know what else to do. I did not want their twisted souls to infest this forest. It is an odd thing to bury the bodies of your enemies. You learn to hate them in battle but in burying them you learn to see them as humans and in a strange kind of way you learn to love them...if only because they let you live. It is a regretful thing for something to die still hating another. I will never understand humanity.
But then there is this woman. I have not seen a woman in five years. I know nothing about her, about who she is, or about what those others were chasing her for but when I saw her and she spoke to me some deep need to protect welled up inside me. That idea of protecting the weak against the strong seems to be the epitome of human nature. No, it is not the epitome of human nature. Human nature is the same a animal nature; survival. But what causes a man to save one and kill two? It is they way that you approach the man. The one approached in such a way that instantly makes them one of the pack, even Quinn noticed that. The others...well they were of another pack.
I returned to those men that I killed to try and learn more about what I have gotten myself into before the woman wakes. Their armor plates are almost and inch thick and cover every inch of their bodies. They must run on all fours the way they do because of the weight of that metal. They run on their knuckles letting their hands grasp what ever they need as they run. Many of the metal plates must have been attached to them sense they were young because their bodies have grown around the plates and incorporated them into the creatures body. This is how the tails are attached, a plate of metal that must have been attached soon after birth because the first plate of both of their tails was embedded into their pelvis. Each of them had an engraved metal disk on their right shoulder. They were sightly different but very similar. I think that they are a way of signifying the creatures name or what tribe they belong to or something. I can not help but wonder what mutilation of the soul could result in two creatures like this. What is worses is that judging from the methodical almost ritualistic way the plates were attached these are by no means the only two of a kind but more likely individuals of a huge populations of these creatures.
I buried the bodies. I did not know what else to do. I did not want their twisted souls to infest this forest. It is an odd thing to bury the bodies of your enemies. You learn to hate them in battle but in burying them you learn to see them as humans and in a strange kind of way you learn to love them...if only because they let you live. It is a regretful thing for something to die still hating another. I will never understand humanity.
3.3.09
The Tattered Flower
The saw ripped into the trunk of the tree. One of the pines that had been ravaged by the late winter freeze; the dry wood easy to cut when the sap was running in every other tree. Thorn took long strokes making the most of the long flexible blade. It took only a little time for what was left of the tree trunk to fall to the wet forest floor. Quinn knew not to get Thorn's way while he was cutting. It had only taken getting hit once by the blade for him to learn and he had know to say away from where the tree was going to fall simply by watching. The dog now knew how to predict where the tree would fall and where he could sit to be close to Thorn while he cut. Thorn paused and sharpened the saw blade that he had just used before switching to another for bucking the fallen tree. The peace of the forest was broken only by the soft rasp of the file on the teeth of the saw. The wind stirred slightly bringing a smell to Quinn's nose. He lifted his head and looked up the slope. Thorn caught a different smell than the dog.
"Yeah, boy I think the first rain storm of the year will be tonight," Thorn said barely taking his focus off the work at hand. Quinn rose his head and lowered his tail, his lips slightly curls and his attention all up the slope. It was a warning stance that Thorn knew all to well. Thorn rose, picked up his ax and slung his bow and arrows over his shoulder. He moved up the slope silently, Quinn at his side, the ax ready for defense. Soon they heard the sound of what ever it was that was approaching. The feet fell on the loss forest liter in a heavy, ragged pattern; as if what ever it was was stumbling down the hill. It was so far from any rhythm Thorn could not tell if the creature had two legs or four... or any other number of legs for that matter. It was not until he caught a glimpse of a human figure coming down through the trees. Thorn moved up toward the figure not letting it see him. It seemed to be running from something. He could see her now. She was nude and covered in mud and dirt. The few places where Thorn could see her skin it was blue and looked stiff. She must be half frozen. Something sprung up in Thorn that he had not felt in year.
"Hello stranger," Thorn said. The women jumped but seemed not to be able to judge the direction from which the voice had come. She started to fall, Thorn dropped his ax and rushed up the hill and caught her. Her skin was cold to the touch and felt almost brittle. He flung his bow and arrows to the ground and pulled his cloak from around his neck to wrap the woman's cold body. "It is okay, you will be okay."
"They are coming. I must run. They are here." The woman's voice was weak and seemed as if it might shatter. Thorn gently set her down on the slope. Here eyes slid closed and consciousness left her. Thorn wrapped her tightly in as many cloths as he had. He could not understand how she was still alive. He was so focused on tending the human he did not hear Quinn's growls or the silence of the rest of the forest.
Quinn's jowls curled back and his nose wrinkled into a snarl. His hackles raised and his tail tucked tight between his legs. All of the wolf in him came out in that stance. He could smell the putrid creatures that were approaching. He could smell the beasts that should not be. What he smell was like rancid lard floating on soured milk. Quinn wanted to run and hide but he need to protect his pack. He needed to protect Thorn.
Thorn's slowness to take in Quinn's behavior was matched only by his quickness to response once he realized that he was in danger. He picked up his bow, strung it, and had an arrow notched in a single motion. He cursed himself for having dropped his ax down the slope.
"What is it boy? What is coming?" Thorn said trying to take comfort in the sound of a voice, even his own. It was then that he first heard the creatures that were coming. They were big and from the sound of their foot falls they ran on four legs but would rise up from time to time to run on their hind legs. Their odd gate was punctuated by the sound of thick heavy metal hitting together, and the heavy rasping of the creatures breath. It created a strange and terrible sound, like nothing Thorn had ever heard in the forest. They moved quickly and Thorn started to catch glimpsed of them through the trees. He drew the arrow to his cheek and took aim following the creatures movement among the trees. It was as if something took over his mind. He was not longer really in control simple doing what he had to do.
Thorn caught glimpses of a thick armored tail, then of hands that carried long clubs made out of metal that seemed to have been taken from the earth in that form. The armor that covered every past of the creature seemed to be made of the same metal. As if a mountain had formed of solid iron and these creatures had been cut from its base. Finally Thorn caught site of an eye. It was a sick red marble swirled with black and a small black spot in the middle that reminded Thorn of looking into the yawning depths of one of the ancient mine shafts in the high mountains. Thorn fixed his focus on that spot and when the arrow left his finger it found its mark.
The creature snarled and stumbled as the heavy shaft of the arrow sunk deep into it head. The creature reached up and snapped the end off the arrow with a hand that had an odd resemblance to a human hand. As he did so he snarled widely and another shaft sunk into the back of the creatures throat. The beast stood up on its hind legs. A third arrow found a notch in the armor on its chest. Finally the creature toppled over backwards and it started a slide slowly down the slope.
Thorn's attention then transfered to the other creature. It was maneuvering differently now, not letting Thorn get a bead on it its eyes. He looked for other gaps in the beast armor but could find none that it exposing. Thorn loosed an arrow that simply glanced off the heavy metal plates.
"The damn things learn quickly. Quinn, ax!" The sound of the charging beast threatened to drown out Thorn's command, but Quinn responded quickly. Thorn loosed another useless arrow, dropped his bow and took the ax from Quinn's mouth. Thorn started to move across the slope towards where the beats had circled to to avoid Thorn's arrows. The heavy ax felt good in his hand and he charged his opponent hoping the ax would be enough. He knew what he would have to do. Let it get close until it reared up to use the clubs in its hands and then he would have to sink the head of the ax into its chest or throat or anywhere he could.
Right when Thorn expected the beast to rise up it did not. Instead it dropped down and one of the clubs swung out threatening to shader Thorn's knee. He jumped up and spun to avoid the heavy metal club. He thought quickly while he was in in the air and he noticed a small gap in the shoulder of the armor that appeared when the beast swung its club. The ax came down like lightning and found the gap. Thorn felt the bone under snap like a stick. The club in that hand fell to the ground as Thorn gently landed behind the beast. The beast had to move on its hind legs now that it could not use one of its arms. It turned slowly to face Thorn again. Thorn did not bother letting the creature get close enough to use its club again. He lifted his ax above his head and let it fly. The head of the ax sunk deep into the beats massive chest in the opening that must have been over the beast heart. It fell forward with the crash of heavy armor.
Thorn rolled the beast over. For the first time he noticed that it was a human, or had been at one point. It was a human as much as a beaver was a rodent. It had been human maybe thirty or forty generations past. Thorn pulled his ax free from the beats chest as if he were pulling it free of a log. Quinn barked and Thorn's attention was drawn back to the woman who was freezing to death.
Thorn moved quickly back over to the women and threw her over his shoulder. He bent and picked up his bow and ax and had Quinn carry the arrows. They covered the ground back to the cabin quickly and Thorn wrapped the woman in all the furs that he had, stoked the fire high. He thought about tending her wound and cleaning her off, but decided that the priority was to get her warm, then worry about the infections that were surly forming in those wounds. He watch her as slowly color came back to her skin and she began to warm over the hours. When her skin lost its rigidity Thorn uncovered a part of the woman at a time and cleaned and tended her deep cuts.
"Where did you come from? What happened to you?" Quinn watched the whole process; half his attention on Thorn and the other half on what was going on outside the cabin.
"Yeah, boy I think the first rain storm of the year will be tonight," Thorn said barely taking his focus off the work at hand. Quinn rose his head and lowered his tail, his lips slightly curls and his attention all up the slope. It was a warning stance that Thorn knew all to well. Thorn rose, picked up his ax and slung his bow and arrows over his shoulder. He moved up the slope silently, Quinn at his side, the ax ready for defense. Soon they heard the sound of what ever it was that was approaching. The feet fell on the loss forest liter in a heavy, ragged pattern; as if what ever it was was stumbling down the hill. It was so far from any rhythm Thorn could not tell if the creature had two legs or four... or any other number of legs for that matter. It was not until he caught a glimpse of a human figure coming down through the trees. Thorn moved up toward the figure not letting it see him. It seemed to be running from something. He could see her now. She was nude and covered in mud and dirt. The few places where Thorn could see her skin it was blue and looked stiff. She must be half frozen. Something sprung up in Thorn that he had not felt in year.
"Hello stranger," Thorn said. The women jumped but seemed not to be able to judge the direction from which the voice had come. She started to fall, Thorn dropped his ax and rushed up the hill and caught her. Her skin was cold to the touch and felt almost brittle. He flung his bow and arrows to the ground and pulled his cloak from around his neck to wrap the woman's cold body. "It is okay, you will be okay."
"They are coming. I must run. They are here." The woman's voice was weak and seemed as if it might shatter. Thorn gently set her down on the slope. Here eyes slid closed and consciousness left her. Thorn wrapped her tightly in as many cloths as he had. He could not understand how she was still alive. He was so focused on tending the human he did not hear Quinn's growls or the silence of the rest of the forest.
Quinn's jowls curled back and his nose wrinkled into a snarl. His hackles raised and his tail tucked tight between his legs. All of the wolf in him came out in that stance. He could smell the putrid creatures that were approaching. He could smell the beasts that should not be. What he smell was like rancid lard floating on soured milk. Quinn wanted to run and hide but he need to protect his pack. He needed to protect Thorn.
Thorn's slowness to take in Quinn's behavior was matched only by his quickness to response once he realized that he was in danger. He picked up his bow, strung it, and had an arrow notched in a single motion. He cursed himself for having dropped his ax down the slope.
"What is it boy? What is coming?" Thorn said trying to take comfort in the sound of a voice, even his own. It was then that he first heard the creatures that were coming. They were big and from the sound of their foot falls they ran on four legs but would rise up from time to time to run on their hind legs. Their odd gate was punctuated by the sound of thick heavy metal hitting together, and the heavy rasping of the creatures breath. It created a strange and terrible sound, like nothing Thorn had ever heard in the forest. They moved quickly and Thorn started to catch glimpsed of them through the trees. He drew the arrow to his cheek and took aim following the creatures movement among the trees. It was as if something took over his mind. He was not longer really in control simple doing what he had to do.
Thorn caught glimpses of a thick armored tail, then of hands that carried long clubs made out of metal that seemed to have been taken from the earth in that form. The armor that covered every past of the creature seemed to be made of the same metal. As if a mountain had formed of solid iron and these creatures had been cut from its base. Finally Thorn caught site of an eye. It was a sick red marble swirled with black and a small black spot in the middle that reminded Thorn of looking into the yawning depths of one of the ancient mine shafts in the high mountains. Thorn fixed his focus on that spot and when the arrow left his finger it found its mark.
The creature snarled and stumbled as the heavy shaft of the arrow sunk deep into it head. The creature reached up and snapped the end off the arrow with a hand that had an odd resemblance to a human hand. As he did so he snarled widely and another shaft sunk into the back of the creatures throat. The beast stood up on its hind legs. A third arrow found a notch in the armor on its chest. Finally the creature toppled over backwards and it started a slide slowly down the slope.
Thorn's attention then transfered to the other creature. It was maneuvering differently now, not letting Thorn get a bead on it its eyes. He looked for other gaps in the beast armor but could find none that it exposing. Thorn loosed an arrow that simply glanced off the heavy metal plates.
"The damn things learn quickly. Quinn, ax!" The sound of the charging beast threatened to drown out Thorn's command, but Quinn responded quickly. Thorn loosed another useless arrow, dropped his bow and took the ax from Quinn's mouth. Thorn started to move across the slope towards where the beats had circled to to avoid Thorn's arrows. The heavy ax felt good in his hand and he charged his opponent hoping the ax would be enough. He knew what he would have to do. Let it get close until it reared up to use the clubs in its hands and then he would have to sink the head of the ax into its chest or throat or anywhere he could.
Right when Thorn expected the beast to rise up it did not. Instead it dropped down and one of the clubs swung out threatening to shader Thorn's knee. He jumped up and spun to avoid the heavy metal club. He thought quickly while he was in in the air and he noticed a small gap in the shoulder of the armor that appeared when the beast swung its club. The ax came down like lightning and found the gap. Thorn felt the bone under snap like a stick. The club in that hand fell to the ground as Thorn gently landed behind the beast. The beast had to move on its hind legs now that it could not use one of its arms. It turned slowly to face Thorn again. Thorn did not bother letting the creature get close enough to use its club again. He lifted his ax above his head and let it fly. The head of the ax sunk deep into the beats massive chest in the opening that must have been over the beast heart. It fell forward with the crash of heavy armor.
Thorn rolled the beast over. For the first time he noticed that it was a human, or had been at one point. It was a human as much as a beaver was a rodent. It had been human maybe thirty or forty generations past. Thorn pulled his ax free from the beats chest as if he were pulling it free of a log. Quinn barked and Thorn's attention was drawn back to the woman who was freezing to death.
Thorn moved quickly back over to the women and threw her over his shoulder. He bent and picked up his bow and ax and had Quinn carry the arrows. They covered the ground back to the cabin quickly and Thorn wrapped the woman in all the furs that he had, stoked the fire high. He thought about tending her wound and cleaning her off, but decided that the priority was to get her warm, then worry about the infections that were surly forming in those wounds. He watch her as slowly color came back to her skin and she began to warm over the hours. When her skin lost its rigidity Thorn uncovered a part of the woman at a time and cleaned and tended her deep cuts.
"Where did you come from? What happened to you?" Quinn watched the whole process; half his attention on Thorn and the other half on what was going on outside the cabin.
2.3.09
Spring Works
The warmth returning to the air and the bones is like the miracle of life itself. The wood pile is getting low so I ventured out into the mud and muck of early spring to cut some wood. I found some of the trees that did not survive the winter, there wood still in good condition and compared to the rest of the forest they are much dried and easier for the saw to bite into. The smell of pine is intoxicating as alway. Quinn, as expected, made a mess in the mud chasing and barking at the chipmunks who are eager to play after the long confinement of their winter nests.
The warms of labor does wonders to melt the frost of a long winter off of the soul of a man deep in the wilderness. The mountain's old, deep, moaning song of winter changes to the deep beat of a waltz and the pine trees add their voices in celebration of the new light of spring. The whole forest seems to dance with that song and the soul of a lone man is lightened with the joy that seems to be all around him. But there seems to be something off about it this spring.
It would seem that Quinn has been taken by the same carefree spirit as the rest of the forest. There is nothing quite as enjoyable as play wrestling with a dog that has trapped inside for the whole of winter. I remember him being so excited about the first snow just as I was but I think that the confines of winter acted on him much quicker then they acted upon me. The flip side of that is that I think that the magic of spring has acted on him much faster than it will act on me.
I can not help but think about what a change I have seen in this dog over the course of the year that I have known him. He came to me a broken pup about to be taken by Death and now he is something... something else. A perfect loyal companion. There are times when I feel like the wolf-dog should return to his pack, the pack of his father at least, but then I remember the condition he came to me in and I know that it was his pack that had done that to him. Anymore I get the feeling he considers me to be his pack and I know that I reciprocate that feeling. A pack of two outcasts.
Work awaits but I cannot shake this feeling that something is coming to me. As if the next part of my path has already been chosen and I'm just waiting to walk it. I suppose I will find out when my foot touches the ground. For now the saw calls to give its own voice to the song of spring.
The warms of labor does wonders to melt the frost of a long winter off of the soul of a man deep in the wilderness. The mountain's old, deep, moaning song of winter changes to the deep beat of a waltz and the pine trees add their voices in celebration of the new light of spring. The whole forest seems to dance with that song and the soul of a lone man is lightened with the joy that seems to be all around him. But there seems to be something off about it this spring.
It would seem that Quinn has been taken by the same carefree spirit as the rest of the forest. There is nothing quite as enjoyable as play wrestling with a dog that has trapped inside for the whole of winter. I remember him being so excited about the first snow just as I was but I think that the confines of winter acted on him much quicker then they acted upon me. The flip side of that is that I think that the magic of spring has acted on him much faster than it will act on me.
I can not help but think about what a change I have seen in this dog over the course of the year that I have known him. He came to me a broken pup about to be taken by Death and now he is something... something else. A perfect loyal companion. There are times when I feel like the wolf-dog should return to his pack, the pack of his father at least, but then I remember the condition he came to me in and I know that it was his pack that had done that to him. Anymore I get the feeling he considers me to be his pack and I know that I reciprocate that feeling. A pack of two outcasts.
Work awaits but I cannot shake this feeling that something is coming to me. As if the next part of my path has already been chosen and I'm just waiting to walk it. I suppose I will find out when my foot touches the ground. For now the saw calls to give its own voice to the song of spring.
27.2.09
The Decent
Her eyes opened and took a moment to adjust. It always took a moment when you looked upon a world for the first time. She stood and looked about. She was surrounded by tall gray peaks. there was snow in drifts here and there but the wind, cold and sharp had cleared the rock around her and all the way to the forest a few hundred yards bellow. Without knowing why she started to move towards the trees. She knew that she was being chased and she did not know from where her perusers would come. But the forest was safe. The forest was covered. In the forest she could hide. And there was something else in the forest. Something that would protect her.
Slowly she picked her way across the rocks, her soft bare feet being cut by the sharp, young stone. The last of the winter wind lashed out at her naked skin and the deep cuts that crossed her back and limbs. She descended quickly into the trees, the wind died, and the snow grew deeper. The little ice crystals added their own cuts to her skin and slowly robed it of its heat.
She kept on through the snow not stopping for anything. It was as if something pulled her to where she was going. Where she knew that she would find protection. Or was it something pushing her? She kept moving because she had to.
Slowly she picked her way across the rocks, her soft bare feet being cut by the sharp, young stone. The last of the winter wind lashed out at her naked skin and the deep cuts that crossed her back and limbs. She descended quickly into the trees, the wind died, and the snow grew deeper. The little ice crystals added their own cuts to her skin and slowly robed it of its heat.
She kept on through the snow not stopping for anything. It was as if something pulled her to where she was going. Where she knew that she would find protection. Or was it something pushing her? She kept moving because she had to.
26.2.09
Winter's Heart
The winter is always colder then I expect. I always find myself longing for the biting cold and solitude of the winter's heart but I forget about the time. The first few weeks of cold satisfy my hunger for the cold. The air biting at the skin invigorates and lets me know that I'm alive. The animals retreat into there winter homes and the forest becomes silent. It is simply the trees and myself and my thoughts. There is nothing to stop the mind from wondering where it wants. The best by far is the first snow; thick and heave it falls to the ground humbling the world around. The world becomes silent in the awe of this beautiful white cold that falls from the heavens.
But the joy and peace of early winter slowly transforms. The cold that once playfully nipped at the skin seeps deeper into the body and the bones themselves begin to feel cold and brittle. The mind drifts from awe and wonder to hate for the cold and a deep longing for the heat of the summer sun on back of the neck while the body that had been trapped by the snow once again works the earth. As the cold drags on the mind occupies itself with thing that are truly of no worth. The world seems to drag and the days though short and dark seem to take an eternity.
Slowly the world begins to thaw. The snow begins the melt and the creatures of the forest, long dormant, begin to emerge again. The world seems to change from dull grays and whites to greens and browns. An excitement seems to build with the expectation of the bright reds and blues and the hundreds of other colors that come with spring. However, deep down inside there is a knowledge that this is not spring. That ache in those frozen bones is still there. The mind is more easily fooled then the bones and preparation for planting are started.
Deep in the night there is a sound. Thunder? No, there is no rain and it is far to cold. Far, far to cold even in the relative warmth of the cabin the cold threatens to take the breath of life and stoking the fire does little to fend off this chill. There is that sound again closer now almost deafening. Slowly the knowledge seeps in to the mind. The tree sap started flowing and a trick of late winter has brought the harshest cold of the season. Winter never seems to pass peacefully into spring it always fights back. Another tree exploding in the distance, from betrayal of its own frozen sap, is another victim of winters desperation.
Spring will return soon, and with it the sun and the warmth and the colors. Incredible how something so longed for could turn into something so hated and feared. How lovingly the labors of the summer are looked upon in the heart of winter.
But the joy and peace of early winter slowly transforms. The cold that once playfully nipped at the skin seeps deeper into the body and the bones themselves begin to feel cold and brittle. The mind drifts from awe and wonder to hate for the cold and a deep longing for the heat of the summer sun on back of the neck while the body that had been trapped by the snow once again works the earth. As the cold drags on the mind occupies itself with thing that are truly of no worth. The world seems to drag and the days though short and dark seem to take an eternity.
Slowly the world begins to thaw. The snow begins the melt and the creatures of the forest, long dormant, begin to emerge again. The world seems to change from dull grays and whites to greens and browns. An excitement seems to build with the expectation of the bright reds and blues and the hundreds of other colors that come with spring. However, deep down inside there is a knowledge that this is not spring. That ache in those frozen bones is still there. The mind is more easily fooled then the bones and preparation for planting are started.
Deep in the night there is a sound. Thunder? No, there is no rain and it is far to cold. Far, far to cold even in the relative warmth of the cabin the cold threatens to take the breath of life and stoking the fire does little to fend off this chill. There is that sound again closer now almost deafening. Slowly the knowledge seeps in to the mind. The tree sap started flowing and a trick of late winter has brought the harshest cold of the season. Winter never seems to pass peacefully into spring it always fights back. Another tree exploding in the distance, from betrayal of its own frozen sap, is another victim of winters desperation.
Spring will return soon, and with it the sun and the warmth and the colors. Incredible how something so longed for could turn into something so hated and feared. How lovingly the labors of the summer are looked upon in the heart of winter.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)