The first snows of December fell gently, blanketing the valley in a thin
veil of white and quiet stillness. With most of the larger beasts gone,
and others soon to follow, it was a time for the lesser creatures of the
vales to once again show themselves and become a part of the living
world. For at last the change had come, and the dangers grown less.
The weather was mild and predictable. The cold was not yet piercing.
It was a time when young foxes, weary of caution and hiding, were free
to forage among the brakes and hedges unafraid, leaving behind them tiny
craters in the snow. Northern rabbits, now splotching white through
their seasonal brown, could also be seen moving easily through the
tree-ringed meadows, stuffing themselves to soft roundness in
preparation for the cold and hungry days ahead. Only the sounds of
late-migrating geese disturbed the stillness, passing over but not
touching the thousand microcosms below, alone unto themselves.
It was but a brief respite. And through all their simple and wordless
joys of freedom, the creatures that remained knew it must be used as a
time of preparation---that the Cold World would soon be upon them.
Kalus spent the gradually shortening days in tentative hope and
lingering doubt, and wondered at the growing emotions inside him,
brought alive and set in inevitable conflict, he imagined, by the girl.
He had never felt life so close around him, and the feelings it brought
were not without their measure of apprehension and uncertainty. So he
cut and gathered wood, made and refined tools, smoked meat and packed it
with wild salt in the depths of niches and fissures he had discovered in
the mountainside above them. Then covered the hiding places with
stones.
Every pelt, no matter how small, was saved and turned into winter
clothing by the girl, who seemed to be more adept at such things than
he. Sometimes Kamela would hunt with him, to help provide for the
wolves, but always with a dull and hopeless look in her eyes that Kalus
felt very deep in his heart. The long scar on her underside, which he
had seen only once, while she slept, could tell him only a part of the
tale. And of the rest she was closed even with Akar.
But most of all he thought of Skither, and wondered when he would
return.
***
Sylviana lay propped on her elbows, her favorite fur half in and half
out of the entrance of the smaller cave, looking down on the snow-dusted
grasses with misting and faraway eyes. Her mood triggered by the scene,
she was thinking of the fragile water domes she had toyed with as a
child, all alone in the unused bedroom of her grandmother's
house. Christmas. Her mind conjured the room before her: the massive
four-posted bed, the mahogany dresser crowned with photographs of aunts
and uncles, the lace-curtained and frosting windows. And she remembered
one in particular, a Nativity scene, her favorite. She remembered the
way the tiny flakes would sift softly through the water and onto the
roof of the manger, only to be swept away again as she lifted the glass
dome and shook it. The water would swirl like a sudden wind, then the
flakes settle slowly.....
She was aware of movement on the plains below. Her eyes focused, and
she saw Kalus walking back towards the mountain through the snow-covered
grasses, turning his head from side to side, watching. Though he would
never admit it, she knew he was worried over Skither's extended
absence, and about its bearing on their safety and their future. He
stood at the edge of the gorge, looked up at her, then descended the
steep half-path of stone and was swallowed up in shadow. Her mind
returned fully to the present.
They had moved to the smaller enclosure as soon as Akar was able,
expecting to be there only a short time; but the Mantis had not
returned. Nearly six weeks had passed since his departure, and the
girl, at least, had begun to think he never would. But if ever she
mentioned the possibility to Kalus, he grew sullen and cold; and she had
decided at length to put the thought from her mind, and let Nature run
its course. Still, she couldn't help wondering how it would be if
the larger cave were truly theirs. She had grown very fond of, or at
least accustomed to, the safety of the mountain'---their word for
the higher, tooth-shaped rise in the ridge of granite cliffs---and
leaving it now for the uncertainty that lay beyond was not a thought she
relished.
Kalus made his way up the slope to the Mantis' ledge, paused for
breath, then continued. Climbing ever closer up the path, he smiled at
her with half his face, and reaching the parapet, passed by her and went
inside. The pup, roused from its attentions to a small bone, wagged its
tail and ran to greet him as always. Akar sat up gingerly on his two
furs near the back of the enclosure. Kamela was off somewhere alone.
The girl rose after a time, ducked her head and followed him in.
He sat cross-legged on the floor with the pup in his lap, thinking. She
knew that look. Something (more than the ordinary) was troubling him.
After a short silence she asked simply.
'What's wrong?'
'Skither should have been back by now. The weather is growing too
cold, and still he doesn't come.' Sylviana said nothing. He
looked at her. 'I know. I feel it too. This place is too small for
so many to live. If he doesn't return soon I will try to find us
another place.' She hesitated. 'What about the lower cave?'
'Perhaps. But not yet.' He set down the wolf pup and drew his legs
together with his arms, sat gnawing at his knees and looking worried.
The girl moved behind him and began to massage his neck and shoulders.
He reached up a hand as if make her stop, but instead took her by the
wrist and turned to face her. His deep blue eyes studied her with an
unreadable expression. Dropping to one knee in the way now familiar,
she stroked his open forearm tentatively.
'Are you angry with me?'
'No.' He shook his head, kissed the back of her hand. He drew
back into his former attitude and remained silent for a time,
occasionally rocking himself and staring at the floor. Finally, as with
great effort, he said the words.
'I'm confused.'
'About what?'
'The Mantis. And you.'
'Why me?'
'You make the world so much closer. I can't run, or close my mind
anymore. Almost, I can't hide from the questions..... I can't
speak of it now. Not yet.'
Sylviana knew he would say nothing more. Again she stroked his arm,
felt his hand encircle her wrist, then rose to prepare a meal.
*
That night as they lay together among the furs that made their bed,
Kalus moved close beside her and buried his head against her chest.
Though they had slept together many times, he had not yet tried to make
love to her. In his instinctive way he sensed she was not ready, and in
fact this voice inside him was correct. He still, in part, represented
to her the harsh world from which he came, a world she was not ready to
fully accept, or give herself up to. But this was not what held him
back now. A fear that he could not understand---the fear of losing the
things he had found---haunted him now as it had for weeks, seeming to
intensify with each passing day.
Sylviana stroked his hair, now smooth, and felt him warm against her.
They lay thus for several minutes, until she realized he was crying.
She took his face in her hands, not understanding.
'I'm sorry,' he said quietly, shaking his head and clearing his
eyes. 'I didn't mean to frighten you.' She took a deep breath
and rolled onto her back in frustration. But still the warmth that was
in her made her reach out and touch his face, his neck.
'The only thing that frightens me is not knowing what you're
feeling. You never tell me. You keep it all inside. I know it hurts,
Kalus, a lot. But you have to try. I'm not going to judge you, or
think you're weak..... I care for you very much. In my way. . .I
love you.' Kalus gripped the edge of the fur and curled it tightly in
his hand, as if needing to use his body over mind. The night was quiet
and still around them.
'I don't know what we'll do if he doesn't come back.'
'Well, what are our choices?' She truly wanted to know, and she
thought it might give him something concrete to discuss. She knew, or
thought she knew, he didn't deal well with abstractions.
As he spoke the words, Kalus felt reluctance giving way. Almost it came
as a relief to let go. And as he spoke it took his mind from the place
they were, and into something like a dream, however real, that gave him
some escape from himself. Though his worry was not abated.
'I've thought about returning to Carak Mesa, where my people live
in warmer weather. There are several caves, joined by short
passageways, and one chamber that is large enough for all of us. It is
dry, and gives some protection against the wind.
'But it is too hard to defend,' he continued. 'Even with a man
guarding each entrance, we had to keep our fires burning brightly and
our weapons close at hand. Barabbas held it more through intimidation
than anything. Perhaps we could block all but one entrance. But the
rock is like hard white earth filled with pebbles---'
'Limestone,' interjected the girl.
'Yes, and not always firm to brace wooden poles and stones
across.' His gaze returned from the low roof. 'Do you want to
here this?'
'Yes, very much.' Even this brief scenario had given a clearer
picture of his life among the hill-people than all the shy, abbreviated
accounts which had come before it.
'There are other caves, along the ridge farther north. But they are
not large, and too close to the bottom of the gorge. I don't like to
think that other creatures could crawl down on me: being below the level
of the land. Then there are the earth-holes dug by the wolves in the
Northern Hills. With Akar ---the pack has gone to the South, as I told
you---it would be all right for us to live there until Spring, perhaps
longer.
'But there also, there are too many unknowns. The great bears come
farther south in Winter, crossing the Broad River far to the west, where
it is shallower and stony. Their violence, when enraged, is like no
other creature. My father was killed by such a bear. . .and the thought
of finding you, dragged out across a hillside..... That is what I fear
above all else.' He released a troubled breath.
'The sandstone ridge, the caves to the south, are of stone even worse
than the Carak. And there the mountain cats rule. I don't know
where else to go.'
'What about Skither's cave?'
He shook his head. 'Even if Skither has gone to another place (the
thought that he was injured and unable to return, was something his mind
could not accept), the entrance is much too hard to defend. Perhaps we
could block up this passage with stones.' He pointed to toward the
smaller opening. 'But what can we do with an entrance so high as the
one below? That is the same reason we cannot stay here. Soon all
creatures will know that Skither is gone, and then the shaft becomes the
thing impossible to defend.' This was the chance she had waited for,
but now she felt reluctant to speak.
'I think..... I know a way we could barricade the entrance, and make
the larger cave safe.' His eyes narrowed upon her turned form,
silhouetted against the patch of starry sky beyond. 'It would be
hard work, and you would have to let me help you. But it can be
done.' Again, though his own shape was lost against the back of the
enclosure, she felt the deep and sullen trepidation inside him. 'We
don't have to think about it now.'
'There is a real way? That you have seen?'
'Yes.'
After an interval of silence he moved away, as if to sleep. But soon
the great emptiness and restlessness came over him again. Hardly
knowing why, he moved closer and put his arm across her, feeling her
body against him. He lay still for a moment. His heart beat heavily,
and slowly his hand found its way to her breast.
Sylviana felt this, more aware perhaps than he, of the feelings that lay
behind it. She felt his gentle, yearning caress, closed her eyes
peacefully and yielded to it until she felt the hand stop, tremble
slightly, and he moved away again.
'No, Kalus. It's all right.'
Through the stir of her emotions a feeling of sudden, firm resolve came
over her. She stood up, reached down to her waist, and took off her
blouse. She unfastened, and slipped out of her faded jeans. She
removed her underclothes more slowly, her own heart beating heavily, and
lay down beside him. And shyly, and affectionately, and longingly drew
him close.
His heart thundering, he pulled away his own garments and surrendered to
the torrent inside him. His last words as emotion and sensation
overpowered him were strange, yet he spoke them with all his soul.
'I need you. Sylviana!'
And her name flowed like water through the piercing of his heart.