9 December 2012

No chapter for today, but I will be back with another tomorrow.

Philip, thanks for the things you said yesterday--much appreciated, and understood--and yes, I will indeed keep writing, because the story's not done yet, and with some things...stories, life and such...you just don't quit until you get to the end.  :)

Hope you're all having a good weekend.

We finally got a bit of snow up here, terribly late and still not a "normal" amount for this time of year, but certainly better than nothing!

8 December 2012

Morning, slow, creeping, frigid, but beneath the bear hide the little family was warm, more or less.  Einar, in reality, was no less on the verge of hypothermia than usual of late when he was not involved in some sort of swift and frantic movement, the climbing of a mountain or some such, but at least he was dry, out of the wind and near to Liz, who had through the night done her best to see that he go on warming, and stay that way.  Her night having been thus somewhat disturbed and at times less than entirely restful, it was Einar who woke first, staring out at the faint grey of morning out beyond the close cluster of evergreens which had sheltered them and experiencing a brief moment of almost-panic at the realization that he was to have been up long before then, tearing his way up the slope with Juni in tow, day two of what was to be one of the most challenging survival courses either of them had ever experienced, or led…which in his case was saying quite a lot. 

The consternation did not last, however, Liz feeling him stir and encircling him with an arm, gentle but insistent, don’t go anywhere, you’re staying right here with me for now…  And he did, remembering in bits and pieces the events of the past evening and knowing that he ought to be taking advantage of his current state—more or less thawed out and not shivering too badly, if still tense and stiff with cold—to say to her the things he’d wished but been unable to communicate to her in the dark hours, but he found himself not a little reluctant to disturb the peace which currently prevailed over the camp.  Even Juni, when he bent his neck a bit in search of her, appeared still asleep in the bag that Liz had given her—violation of the unwritten rules on survival courses such as that on which they’d embarked that past morning, but seeing as he had in the end consented to such violations on his own part he could hardly object too strongly, and knew they could more than make up for the infraction, later—appeared still quietly asleep, so he laid down his head and relaxed against Liz.  Well as he was able, at least, considering the always-present grip of the cold on his very bones, and the way said structural components pressed against one another and grated, when he moved, on every irregularity in the ground, a familiar situation and one to which he had largely accustomed himself, over time.

Not a bad place to be, even if, left to his own devices, he almost certainly would have preferred to at that moment be scaling some dizzying and almost certainly slippery windswept spur of life-forsaken rock, grinning into the icy wind and daring Juni—and his own weariness—to try and catch up to him.  One of them would have done it sooner or later and, he mused, mind wandering a bit more freely than he normally let it as he lay peaceful and without an immediate destination beneath the bear hide, ­he might very well not have survived the encounter, this time.  Particularly with the second one.  Had been stalking him awfully closely of late, the very closeness necessitating a further separation of his mind from the immediate and logically-undeniable likelihood of his imminent demise than he usually required of himself to get through the day and keep pressing on through circumstances which would have halted many other men, and though that skill had innumerable times in the past not only proven useful but made the difference between his staying alive or not, he knew what that could do to a man’s mind.   

Could leave one, in addition to being too used up to reason with any great degree of clarity or certainty much of the time, utterly and unshakably convinced that one could go on indefinitely in such a manner, living on noting but air, maybe an occasional bit of water—but probably not, because after a while, you started forgetting that, too, losing the urge to drink and it took too much effort to remind yourself—and the grit in your gut that kept you going…which a man really could not do.  Not forever.  He knew that now, at the moment, somewhat rested, fed and still enough for reflection, but knew also that he would likely as not forget again, as the day went on and his existence once again grew grim, desperate, requiring of him all he could give.  Always seemed to forget, find himself back in his usual way of thinking, pushing on ahead and determined to do so until the very end.

Shook his head, shivered, re-positioned his legs—carefully not wanting to wake Liz—so that bony knees didn’t press quite so painfully against one another.  Some example, indeed, for his student, if he’d managed to finally use up those surely near-failing stores of energy upon which he’d been (barely) living, while they’d been out on the course.  Would have been a fine lesson in rescue and recovery, he supposed, and the thought angered him—that he would have put her in that position, especially had he managed to live though whatever event finally ended his head-long dash towards the cliff, thus endangering her own life as she sought to retrieve and revive him.  Shut his eyes, jaw clamping in fury at the thought. 

Some instructor you are.  Some example.  Seems Liz was trying to say something along these lines the other day…yesterday?  They do all start blending together, don’t they?...and looks like she must have been right.  Though you sure weren’t interested in hearing it just then, were you?  Nope, not at all.  Seriously, man, how did it come to this?  And worst of all—again, she was right in saying this—is the fact that often as not, you’re not only unwilling to recognize it, but unable.  Or so it seems.  Surely if you really tried, you’d be able.  You’re not that dense, or at least you never used to be.  Trouble is, when you get into that mode you don’t want to recognize it.  That’s the last thing you want, because when it comes down to it, that pushing ahead no matter what and all reasonable limits be darned is a survival mechanism, and a mighty useful one from time to time, but right now, you to admit that it’s outlived its usefulness.  And had pretty doggone nearly outlived you. 

Got to turn that around, but really, I’m not sure I know how.  Have managed to get awful set in my ways it seems, to the point where most of the time, I’m absolutely convinced that anything which might even threaten to interfere with my ignoring the state of my physical body and pushing full steam ahead is the real threat to my survival, and must be fought tooth and nail until it gives up and leaves me alone—even if it’s my own wife.  My dear, dear patient Lizzie, whose grace and forgiveness I cannot even begin to fathom…  And he stopped for the time with his reflection, still, silent, listening to the regular sound of her breathing and watching as, far away on the opposite ridge, sunlight slowly began creeping onto the bristling black spine of high timber, easing its way down towards the deep, shadow-filled valleys below, Muninn the raven beginning to stir at the realization that morning had come, or was about to do.  A full day, no doubt, plenty to say to Liz, new trails to be started down, walked with her…

If he could bring himself to remember.

7 December 2012

No chapter for today, but I'll have one ready for tomorrow.

Thank you all for reading!

6 December 2012

The words, though Einar wanted to speak them, would not seem to assemble themselves in his head, stop whirling about and allow him to array them in some order which might lend sense to their otherwise-chaotic ramblings and stand some chance of being understood by Liz, and because they would not, he kept silent.  Needed to warm up, knew that now, as his priority had shifted from putting himself to severe, night-long ordeal in order to test and strengthen his endurance, to simply being able to intelligibly communicate certain things to his wife.  One being no less difficult than the other, he wanted if possible to add a degree or two to his—he was certain, though likely he would have vehemently denied any such knowledge, only minutes earlier—woefully lowered body temperature before making too serious an attempt. 

Needed to get up and move, he supposed, which was far easier said than done with Liz’s arms wrapped rather insistently around his middle, squeezing nearly as tightly as the iron-jawed grip of the cold.  Hated to disturb her in any way, especially after the rather tremendous disturbance he had already brought to the camp that night, but without some movement soon and some serious warming, he was reasonably certain to descend, before too much longer, into a dazed stupor in the midst of which he would be quite useless when it came to making things right for Liz.  A dilemma of sorts, and one which, chilled and weary as he remained, despite his resolve to stick around camp for the night, he found himself rather lacking the insight to begin remedying. 

Liz knew, could feel the change in him and, no longer worried that he was about to head up the mountain to freeze himself for the night and believing he would be willing to come with her, she rose, helped him to his feet and led him closer to the fire.  Still wordless they stood together, hand in hand and Einar trembling violently as the heat of the flames rose to begin warming him, a process to which he had been so adamantly opposed only minutes before and which, he knew—an absent, fleeting thought in a mind nearly too exhausted and chilled to entertain any such—would surely take the better part of the night should it be allowed to go to completion.  Which it must, this time, for he had to speak to Liz, had to… 

Caught himself, just barely, as he’d been about to topple forward into the fire.  Liz would herself have caught him and almost certainly insisted he sit, had she not just then been busy retrieving some nourishment from a far corner of the little firepit, lifting the vessel with the help of a bit of tanned buckskin and handing it to a none-too-steady but thoroughly focused Einar, who struggled to prevent it spilling into the flames.

Pot of leftover broth kept hot in the coals, a wonderful, life-giving thing, and as he drank, tears ran down the deep, pain-etched hollows of his face as Liz watched with some amazement—I released you from our agreement; why are you eating?—overjoyed to see him willingly and without even gentle coercion on her part taking an interest in the things which would help keep him alive, with her.  With them, for they were indeed a unit of three, a fact of which all were rather suddenly reminded when Will woke, seeking milk only to realize that Juni was not at all the right sort to be giving it, and protesting the injustice with a hearty and indignant howl.

Taking the child, feeding him, Liz kept close to Einar as he crouched trembling and half in a daze over the low flames and flickering, shimmering bed of coals, red-orange with bits of blue leaping on occasion from their depths, dancing, merging, mesmerizing, almost, to his cold brain but he managed to tear his eyes away from the sight, smiling gently as he watched mother and child together in the soft and changing light.  In time Will was satisfied, sleepy, wrapped snugly and tucked in for the night beneath the bear hide which Liz had packed along against the chill of the dark hours, and it was, after he’d finished his broth, to this same spot where she led Einar, got him out of his snow-damp and partially frozen garments and in beneath the soon-to-be warming confines of the fur, joining him, allowing the fire to burn low.

Bruises over bone, bruised bone, raw, abraded flesh on shoulders, hips, everywhere the fantastically exposed structure of his barely-covered skeleton protruded in sharp-angled relief as it had never been designed or intended to do; she tried to be gentle, but the activities of the past day had taken their toll, climbing, bashing shins and knees against fallen trees, rocks, and most especially his time in the rockslide with Juni, her strenuous rescue from the pit, and it was at times all he could do to keep still and refrain from crying out as she worked to warm him.  Managed it though, glad and grateful simply to be once again in the light of her presence, if keenly aware of his unworthiness…

For Liz’s part—not at all finding him unworthy, glad of his presence as he was of hers, treasuring the time, rejoicing, relieved that he was allowing her to help—she found the whole thing in sensation a bit like wrapping herself around a heap of fractured, icy granite slabs and shards, something she might have scraped up out of a scree field at the bottom of a broken and disintegrating cliff face, but she persisted, feeling the slow but living rhythm of his heart echoing beneath painfully keen-slatted ribs and knowing that some warmth would come, with time.  In time.  She hoped.  Hoped all of it was in time, for despite her recent protests to the contrary and her declaration to Einar that she was ready and willing to let him go, if that was what he wanted, out into the snow to perish, truly she had very desperately hoped his decision might be to stay.  Trouble was, as she saw it, that despite his late resolve to change things a bit, come around to seeing them more her way, he clearly lacked a complete understanding of the sort of trouble he’d allowed himself to end up in, mind telling him that everything was fine, even as his body was teetering on the precipice, dangerously close to death.

Unless he was somehow able to see and admit those facts, she feared that no amount of resolve on his part would be likely to keep him from ending up in exactly the same predicament after another week or two, or a month…  Though at least in a month, the snow would be starting to leave the high country, grass emerging, temperatures warming…perhaps it would be enough, a month.  She could hope, for she did not know how to go about making him understand.  No need for too much understanding that night, though.  They were, with Einar’s consent and agreement, warm together beneath the bear hide, a thing easily understood by both and, for the moment, uncomplicated, and it was enough.

05 December 2012

For a time Einar simply stood there by the fire and waited, wanted to flee off into the darkness—both to complete the mission for which Liz had finally given her approval, if one could call it that, and to escape the unfamiliar and somewhat baffling display of emotion on her part—but somehow the thought of doing so seemed a bit cowardly, for he was indeed somewhat afraid of this unknown thing before him, this person who was his wife yet not behaving the way he was used to seeing her behave, and thus he must stay, face the danger, seek some way to remedy the situation.  Defend her.  In which endeavor he was wholly lost and did not know how even to begin, for he had little concept of what might be the trouble, knew he had himself brought it about but lacked a clear understanding of how.  By upholding his end of the bargain, apparently, for that was what she had said he’d done, had clearly wanted more from him but could she not see that he quite lacked any concept of what that additional consideration might have been?  And now, apparently devastated by his sincere attempts at reassurance, she was in tears. 

Well.  He never had understood people, any of them, and to think that he could have done so on an ongoing basis with her, simply because of the experiences they had shared while scraping out a living at eleven thousand feet up a mountainside…the notion had been unrealistic, apparently.  Hopelessly unrealistic, and now she wanted him dead.  In a hurry.  Or something like that.  Hadn’t seemed to mean those bits quite literally—it could be awfully hard for him to tell about such things, even when his brain wasn’t running so low on energy and gripped by serious case of cold-induced inertia—the ones about his going ahead and sitting in the snow until he froze to death because it would be easier for everyone that way, but she had said them, and so must have meant something… 

Confused, starting to sway with weariness and the effects of the cold, needing to do something but not knowing what, Einar took a few uncertain steps back into the shadows and stopped once again, waiting.  Wished he’d brought his spear so he could plant it in the ground and more securely brace himself, do some serious thinking—it seemed to help with things like that—but as part of the course, he’d deliberately left nearly everything back at the cabin.

Lost, here.  Don’t know what to do for her.  Sure would like to know how I can go about making this right…  No answer.  Night was quiet, all but the stars crackling overhead with the distant radiance of their cold, brilliant light.   Still, he couldn’t leave, carry on with the night-long ordeal he was certain would strengthen him again for the days ahead, and now he wasn’t even entirely sure he wanted to do it.  The thing seemed to have lost a good deal of its urgency, its purpose; all he wanted to do was to make things right for Liz, but that was the one thing he could not seem to figure out.  Probably hadn’t been trying hard enough.  Too wrapped up in his own goofy brain to see what she…needed?  Wanted?  Whichever it was, he meant to give it to her, she, mother of his child and matriarch of a small but growing mountain tribe, woman who had followed him and fought beside him—and sometimes, when the way became too dark and he’d been unable to see where next to turn, led him—through some mighty difficult years, and knowing that he’d done her this incomprehensible and un-quantifiable wrong, he wanted to throw himself at her feet and beg forgiveness.  But didn’t figure that would likely help matters too much.  She’d probably just think he had passed out from lack of energy, and use the opportunity to strip him of the meager clothing he’d allowed himself as rather inadequate barrier against the cold, and roll him out into the snow to die.  Which somehow struck him as funny, and he wanted to laugh, but didn’t think that would improve the situation too much, either.

Not a bad idea, really.  Her rolling him out into the snow like that.  Probably would save everybody a lot of trouble, but something in him rebelled at the idea, demanded that he stick around to do what he could for Liz and the little one and also that he do it, if for no other reason, simply for the sake of resisting.  As he had always done.  Resisting until the end.  Through the end.  Which intention demanded that he take into account the possibility that Liz might be right about some aspects of his physical condition, for why would she fabricate such details?  Perhaps he was presently a good deal nearer the edge than he would have previously found likely or believable.  If so, that could to some degree explain the urgency in her recent dealings with him, the angry, tearful desperation he’d seen in her eyes.  Not likely, but certainly a possibility to keep in mind.

Inactive for too long, cold getting to him, Einar found his mind drifting after that, not quite able to concentrate on whatever it was he’d been working so hard to puzzle through and then his body was drifting also, sagging to one side so that before he could catch himself he ended up on the ground, limbs tangled with those of the tree which had been supporting him.  Liz let him lie there—he was glad, wouldn’t have been able to stand it had she put aside her tears to come to his aid—Juni not daring to interfere in any way, and when finally through much effort he managed to get himself upright again and on his feet, she had not moved from her dejected slouch by the fire.  Then, his answer, night no longer silent, course seeming clear.  Talk to her.  You’ve done her wrong.  Doesn’t make any difference that you don’t know exactly what it is.  Surely you know there must be plenty of things.  So, ask her forgiveness.  A quick glance, somewhat bleary-eyed and not at all steady after his collapse in the snow, told him that Juni had Will, child warm and peacefully asleep, oblivious to the turmoil in camp, and he was glad.  He hobbled over and lowered himself to the ground beside Liz, reached out a reluctant hand to touch her shoulder but pulled it back.­   Had no right.

She didn’t seem to notice him, went on softly weeping, head on her knees as if to shut out the world, and after a time of uncertainty, something in him trying its hardest to send him back to his feet and away into the refuge of the dark, quiet woods where he was at home, where he was alone—fought it, that voice, though the doing took rather more courage than would have even the most desperate struggle with a physical foe—he sought her hand, found it.  After a moment her fingers entwined with his and she squeezed his hand, head resting on his shoulder as he held her, tears joining with hers, no words, but sometimes none are needed.

Yet, he knew there must be words, eventually, supposed this time they were his to speak.

04 December 2012

Sorry folks, taking me a while to get this next chapter put together--not something about which I write readily or easily.

It will be ready tomorrow.  Thanks for reading, and for your patience!

3 December 2012

Einar wasn’t given much time to think of his “something else,” the strategy by which he hoped to further his plan to somehow re-set his will, his ability to endure, while keeping inviolate the agreement he’d made with Liz, and from which she was so stubbornly refusing to even temporarily release him.  He did not have much time because before his mind could go very far down that path Liz was busy enthusiastically pushing more food into his hands to go with the stew, determined that he at least go into the night well fed, should he go on insisting that he stand some sort of ordeal.  That much at least she could assure, thanks to his so-far rigid adherence to the promise he had made her in that regard.  The rest…

For the rest, I really wish Bud Kilgore was here.  He’d know how to set things right…  And she wanted to mention the thought to Einar in the hopes that word of the tracker might jar him out of the unshakable certainty with which he seemed to be pursuing his current intent, but of course she couldn’t speak it aloud.  Juni’s presence, though largely accepted by both of them and regarded with a good deal more trust than it had been afforded in the early days after her arrival, required a level of caution designed to protect any with whom they’d had contact, and especially such as Kilgore, of whom the young reporter was already aware and who, through her earlier survival courses, Einar was firmly convinced she’d met.  The possible connection was too dangerous, almost too unlikely to be purely coincidental, and she knew that all wrapped up with the other reasons which compelled Einar out into the winter mountains to run his survival course for Juni was surely just that question, he determined to pry from her, one way or another, the answer—why was she really up there, and did it have anything to do with Bud Kilgore?  That particular pursuit she had no problem with whatsoever.  Wished him luck, actually, in determining the answer, as it might prove very important in deciding their future course and protecting their friends.  But that wasn’t terribly relevant just then, not so long as he remained in such grave danger of not making it through the remaining dark hours.  Best try something else.  Appeal to his sense of logic and reason—if he had any left, at the moment.

“About this thing you want to go and do tonight…part of survival is knowing when it’s time to quit at one thing or another, move on, knowing when something is no longer working and a new thing needs to be tried.  You know that.  You taught me the importance of being able to improvise, change plans while in the middle of carrying them out if the circumstances require, yet right now I see you being completely inflexible and utterly refusing to consider that maybe there’s another way, here.  That you really don’t need to kill your body—which is what you’re headed for, and in a pretty efficient manner, even if not intentionally—in order to get your mind in line.  Think about it.  That doesn’t even make sense!  Does it?”

Too weary to argue, to try and explain any more of it to her; had to use what little strength remained—for if not quite agreeing with Liz’s assessment of where he was headed that night and the associated peril, he did feel himself dangerously short on energy—to get himself out there into the darkness away from camp and climbing that ridge in search of the spot where he could pass the night doing one of the few things he was absolutely certain would help in such situations.  Was going to be enough of a stretch just to physically get himself up the remainder of that slope, without first wearing himself out in argument.  Besides, he had no words.  Nothing to say, even if he’d wanted to participate.  Which, he knew, would only have served to help reinforce her point, had he mentioned it.  She was staring at him.

“Nothing?”

He shrugged.  Wondered what was next.  She looked pretty mad.  Though it was hard to tell sometimes, in the firelight.               

“Well, I’m not doing it anymore,” she said with an alarming finality.  “I could knock you in the head with the rabbit stick—goodness knows you’re not moving quickly enough right now to dodge it, if I plan things right—tie you into the bear hide and sit on you for the night, but I don’t want to do that.  Just don’t want to do it anymore.  I’ve never really felt right about pushing you into one thing or another against your will like that, have only done it for little Snorri now and then, but at some point…you’re just going to have to decide for yourself whether you’re staying here with us, or not.  I can’t keep deciding that for you.”

“You never decided…”

“Oh, I know you probably don’t see it that way, but yes, I have.  More than one time you almost certainly would have frozen in the night if I hadn’t stepped in, in a way I probably shouldn’t have done.  And I’m all through with that.  You’re on your own.”

“Our agreement?”

“Done with it.  You’re released from it.  Go and starve, if that’s what you want to do.  It’s no good, that sort of agreement, unless at some point you come to see the sense in it, take some interest yourself in changing what you’re doing.   I appreciate your sticking to that agreement so faithfully, because I know what it cost you, sometimes, to do it, and you certainly stuck to the letter of the law…but it’s pointless.  You were only doing it for me, and that’s pointless, so it’s done.  If you can’t take some responsibility, yourself, when it comes to making sure you’ll be around to see Will grow up—or even to see the winter end—then I guess you really might as well just go out there right now and sit in the snow until the end comes, because it’s going to happen sooner or later if you keep up this way, and it would spare me a lot of pain—and certainly would spare you a lot; I can’t even imagine what it must be like, going on as you are day after day with practically nothing left of your body, nothing to power your mind, just struggling desperately to find a little energy somewhere, some other part of you it can start dissolving and absorbing in the hopes of keeping itself going for a few more hours—so if that’s how it is going to be until the end, it would probably be better for everyone if you went ahead and got it over with.  Don’t you think?”

“Aw Lizzie, I’m not going anywhere.  Got no intention of leaving the two of you anytime soon.  You ought to know that by now.  Besides, it’s really not as bad as all that.  Life’s pretty good, spring is coming and I’m doing just fine, really, not nearly as bad as I guess it must look..”

This time, staring at him almost in disbelief—he really doesn’t get it.  Doesn’t realize—she did not have any angry retort, no argument, nothing….she simply slumped down by the fire and wept.

Einar did not know what to do, had only seen her a time or two display her emotions in such a way and he glanced from her to Juni as if hoping she’d know what to do, but the reporter-turned-survival-student just looked away.