Collision

Part 21

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Fira's P. O. V.
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You must think it crazy, my idea of sliding, but it was practically the only easy way down. Climbing would be difficult and you could easily fall. With sliding at least you have a better chance of not falling down head first and bleeding to death.

Father was a little taken aback at my decision, but it didn't take that long to convince him. We quickly sat down by the edge and got ready. I smiled. "It's okay, I used to do this all the time in Artredland although the mountains were way steeper and bumpier there."

Suddenly where we were sitting crumbled unexpectedly. I shrieked as we shot down the cliff side on our bottoms. Then I laughed. Father was yelling loudly and frantically trying to find a means by which he could hang on to. I didn't have time to think of doing that. This was actually very enjoyable. We slid like a rocket shooting down, towards the ground. I was half scream laughing and enjoying the whole thing emensely. Father however was turning green, and bumping into practically every tree on the cliff.

"How are we supposed to stop!? " Father called over to me. "We don't! But as far as I can see there's a river just by the cliff, so when we drop at the bottom well just fall into the water so be prepared! " I hollered above the loud crumbling of the rocks beneath me. "Whaat?" Father gasped. But before I could reply we were near the bottom of the mountain and we started plummeting towards the river.

I screamed with glee as we slammed with full force into the icy river. It didn't hurt me that bad but poor Father had hit the water with a face plant, and when we climbed out, his face seemed like it was celebrating Christmas. It was a sick green from the ride down and red from hitting the water so hard.

I was surprised though because when he climbed out onto the grass he was laughing. "That's the worst experience I've ever had in my life! " He laughed. "But somehow I liked it kind of! "

We stayed that night there by the river, and Father built a fire. I do say, I was very cold. I leaned over the fire to dry my dark hair. Sometimes I hate my hair. It's dark and long, and yet it's wirey, stringy, wavy and constantly tangled. Most of the time it won't do anything I want it to so usually I look like a lion.

Father walked over to the river to see if there happened to be any surviving fish to eat. I don't think there were because he came back to the fire with an already dead squirrel. I still laugh when I think of it for this squirrel was laying suspended on it's back, eyes and mouth open, with the weirdest smile on it's face. It's fur was wet and gross like, as if it had been taking a luxurious bath and drowned. That's what it looked like. I must say I was reluctant to eat it but it was all we had.

That night I slept well, and dreamed about Peter. We had to find him.