Men of Winter

Chapter XIV

His secret would be out if she touched the telltale scare. —Odyssey 19

"Here we are," I said to Helena. "We have come all this way and now I am not certain what to do next."

"At least I am quite certain. I cannot live in this filth, even for a day or two. There is an old broom in the corner and some rags and a pail. I can make this horrid place a bit more livable."

Yes, I thought, but said, "What shall I do?"

"Get me a pail of snow that I can melt on the stove once the fire is raised, then go amuse yourself for a time. Here you will just be in the way."

I got her pail of snow and went out as she had instructed. I decided that, if nothing else, I could get the "lay of the land" so to speak. I had already been west, at Command, and I knew that the line of battle must be to the northeast; hence I wandered in that direction. The forest soon became denser and the air colder. There were no more ghostly tents strewn among the trees. Yet there must be troops somewhere. The snow was no longer trampled down, so I sank in it to my ankles. My toes were becoming of stone, as were my fingertips in spite of my gloves, especially the fingertips of my left hand because of rigidly carrying my valise, which I had left in Helena's care.

The forest was quiet, except for the wind in the tree tops and an occasional glob of snow that would fall to the forest floor with a surprisingly heavy thud. In fact, one such accidental projectile struck me on the shoulder and startled me severely. I continued walking slowly northeast trying very hard not to lose my bearings. I had no desire to be lost in the woods, only a few miles from the enemy encampment. I wondered if at night I would be able to see their fires – probably not, due to the trees.

The woods were oddly illuminated, as if from the ground up; or as if there were no light source whatsoever. The light was simply there, like the air and its frigidness, like the scent of spruce. These things were all around me, reminding me of the gathered elements of a terrarium. Perhaps that is why the pieces of sky appeared so queer through the forest canopy: the sky was made of glass; and we all acted our parts inside the terrarium for some child-giant's amusement. I stole a glance upward to catch an enormous eye peering at me from above the glass lid, from the heavens. But only the monochrome sky was there; perhaps I looked at the wrong instant, just missing the eye before it focused elsewhere in my contained environment.

Then I felt the loneliness of the forest pressing in on me. The emptiness an almost tangible element added to the light and air and smell of spruce. Where were these great armies that had been clashing for these many years? I thought a moment: nine years! The forest's desolation was so complete I believed the sound of artillery would be welcome – a sign of life somewhere in the world. I felt like running from the forest, back the way I had come, to the army's camp and beyond, all the way to Iiloskova maybe, or at least as far as Mink Farm. It was a foolish thought. Exhaustion was getting to me.

I would not succumb to my childishness. I leaned against a tree trunk and began preparing a cigarette. I would smoke a cigarette here in the lonely wood before returning – that would prove something about me. Another ridiculous notion, I realized, as I finished rolling my cigarette. I lighted it and flicked the spent match into the snow. The earthy taste of the smoke and the feel of it in my lungs were a comfort, and I could sense my mind becoming more lucid with every breath.

Standing perfectly still, my hands in my pockets, the cigarette in my lips, I could detect things that had escaped me before. High above, the canopy made a swishing noise as the wind caused the needled limbs to brush together. I could hear the snow scraped from its resting place before falling to the ground with strange impact. (I thought of the River Vulpa back home and of the serene walks I had taken there.) Behind me, a clicking sound must be a small animal – squirrel or chipmunk – on a tree limb. I turned slowly. The clicking ceased ... but there only a few yards from me was an enormous buck, a bona fide lord of the forest, wearing a majestic crown of twelve or fourteen points. He stood as stock still as I had been and was again. Brown and white, he was nearly invisible in the wintry wood. I began to wonder if he was there at all – if he was some creature of my imagination, like the giant eye I had tried to spot just minutes before. The only thing at work on him was his black nose, which moved ever so slightly from side to side, like a rabbit's. His lordship was trying to pick up the scent of something. I hoped my cigarette would not give me away. In my dark coat and beaver hat, I imagined myself his equal phantom in the woods. If I did not move he would not see me. I thought that if I could somehow glide noiselessly through the air, I could touch his great muscled back before he realized I was there. Perhaps even then he would not move, believing me a thing of the forest too – not his peer but not his enemy either.