The Mountains of Mourning

Book 1 - Chapter 3 - Patrick

The forest was eerily silent. He had heard no animal sounds, predator or prey, not even the hooting of some nocturnal bird. Even so, if he went off to search for supplies and his pod, he didn't want to go unarmed. He was vulnerable enough as he was, without his gem or clothes. It wasn't about just him anymore. Tar depended on his success. He had to get his act together.

Besides, maybe he could skewer a rabbit, or something. Not that he had any clue what to do with it after. Could you just hang it over a fire? He doubted that. There was always mention of dressing and the like. Maybe Val or Hyram would be here by then.

That thought cheered him up a little. With a last glance at the twitching and shivering boy, he walked a little way off, studying the broken greenery, peering intently into the shadows. It didn't take long before he found a long, sturdy stick, as thick as his wrist. Both sides broke off into jagged points, and it felt solid in his hands. It was also long enough for him to lean on. Not the best of weapons, but it was a start.

The next thing was fire. He didn't have a flint and steel, but Tarsus' pod crash might help him with that, if he was fast enough. Most of the scatterings of fire had been extinguished quickly. The foliage was too damp for it to catch on firmly and spread, and so was the wood. But only a few, a very short way away from where he left Tarsus, near the edge of the cliff, sheltered under the shattered remains of a tree, glowed the dying flickers of embers. The inside of the tree provided him with that crumbling half-decayed wood pulp. Holding his breath, he lay down on his belly and fed a pinch of wood crumbs to the coals. He didn't dare exhale. This was his only chance, Tar's only chance.

With torturous slowness, the kindling caught, smoked and took over the glow. He fed it some larger slivers until delicate flames flickered up. Fire. He'd done it. He had created a fire! Kindling it was only one part of the problem, sustaining it the other. Most of the surrounding chunks were too wet to feed to the flames, but once stripped of their leaves, the underbrush proved surprisingly dry. Before long, he had a steady fire going. It was far enough away from Tarsus to be safe for a fevered rolling over, but hopefully still close enough to provide some light. It was the best he could do for now.

The fire was mesmerizing. He knew he had to get up, and move, search the woods for supplies, for a life-saving pod for Tarsus, but he found himself sitting on the ground, staring into the flames. The heat made him realize how cold and damp the night had been. Some knots of tension in his muscles relaxed a little as the warmth seeped in. Fire. Mankind's most primal friend. Something so simple and yet so elusive if you didn't have the right skills or tools. He had gotten lucky; he knew that. He had to guard this fire, cherish it, nurture it, for if it was gone and he still hadn't found some flint or steel, they would be doomed.

The feeling that he was being watched came slowly, starting with the lightest prickling between his shoulder blades. When he looked back, there was nothing there, but had he heard a rustling in the bushes? One problem with a fire at night was that it killed his night-vision. Outside the circle of light, the darkness was almost impenetrable now. Animals were afraid of fire, weren't they? He should be safe.

He put another chunk of wood on the fire, drawing his sharp stick a little closer.
The feeling of being watched returned. This time, he took care not to make any sudden moves. He turned his head ever so slowly, tightening his grip on the weapon.

There was something there, close to the ground. More scratching, and then a gleaming eye became visible, unblinking against the firelight. It fixed him with a baleful glare, daring him to move.

He didn't. He stayed still, breathing only shallow breaths, waiting to see what would follow.
There were a lot of animals he might have expected to see here, but not this.
Gleaming white feathers shone even brighter than that eye. It shuffled closer, ruffled its feathers, shaking off tiny droplets of water. It turned his head to one side and then to the other, trying to study him with both eyes. Finally satisfied, it waddled closer to the fire, sat down, tucked its beak in and closed its eyes.