Thursday, July 23, 2009

Chapter 2, Part 2

The Plains

Doug spent a week gathering and preparing food for the crossing. Game was plentiful in the forest, and more often than not he retrieved the arrows he used. The rifle he saved for extreme need: a bullet that didn't save your life was a waste. He had a dozen, as reliable as he could make them.

His horse waded into the tall grass at a bright, cloudless sunrise. The air was dry and spoke clearly of the colder weather to come. The dog, a large hunting breed, all but disappeared, his head floating above the green blades and leading a wake of waving grass behind him. He'd follow on his own, patrolling ahead or flanking the horse depending on the messages brought to his ears and nose

Around noon of the third day, clear and warmer, the dog stopped, ears pricked up and nose in the air. Doug reached back and gripped the rifle, but didn't pull it from its leather case. The horse's ears darted up, alert. The wind shifted and a low, rumbling thunder came from beyond the gentle rise just ahead. To the right and north a golden haze hugged close to the ground. The thunder wavered with the breeze and faded. The dog looked at the man as if for instructions and Doug grunted, shrugged his shoulders and nudged the horse into motion. He pulled the rifle free and held it across the saddle in front of him.

From the top of the rise, the land sloped down into a basin a few hundred yards wide before climbing to the next long frozen wave of a hill. Across the whole expanse, the grass was pounded flat and the soil churned into brown clumps. The damage extended as far as the eye could see south and north, where the haze clung and a hint of low thunder drifted back for a moment before dying away.

He was out of his knowledge. The maps showed a wide plain, but of whatever creatures may have lived here there was no memory. Inspecting the ground it was easy to determine that whatever came this way, they were big and there were thousands of them. The hunter thought immediately of meat and hide and was reassured. Just then, the dog uttered a short warning bark and the horse moved nervously beneath him. Reflexively, the man readied his rifle. Growling low, the dog directed his attention north along the opposite rise to the figure silhouetted against the blue sky, gazing at them. It was joined by another. The two groups studied each other for a moment before the two figures turned and disappeared behind the hill.

"Wolves," muttered the man. The dog looked at him and wagged his tail twice, as if in agreement. "Let's hope the rest of the pack is far enough away following whatever passed through here. Don't want those two convincing them there's easier meat back this away. " The dog began nosing his way toward where the wolves had been. Doug whistled him back. "Mind your nose, dog. Bad enough they know we're here. Least we're downwind. All the same, we'll veer southwards for a day or so." He glanced at the sun which stood about an hour past noon. He'd put a few more hours between this place and his next rest stop.

On the eighth day the sun set behind the first trees he'd seen since leaving the forest. Huge maples, mostly bare with a few flaming red leaves, hugged the banks of a wide, shallow stream, and were centered around the remains of an Old World foundation. He'd crossed more streams and creeks than he'd hoped for, so his water bags were never empty, but this was a blessing. He'd run out of firewood the day before and woke that morning colder than felt safe. Also, the food was running low. The stream promised fish, and perhaps he could collect some groundhog or squirrel before moving on. He'd crossed two more herd trails since the first one, but hadn't caught sight of the beasts that made them. He couldn't take the time to follow one as he was now in a race with the oncoming winter. His goal was either out there and he'd find it or he'd lose the gamble and most likely his life.

But for now there was food, water and wood.

The dog woke him late into the night. The fire had burned down to glowing coals and his blanket was rimed with frost. He roused himself and fed the fire generously until the flames leapt high and shadows danced between the trees. Then he heard what he thought had disturbed the dog.

A long howl came down the wind, far off, but not far enough. Doug checked the horse, who seemed to be listening very carefully to the night sounds, then made sure of his gun and spear.

But the dog was not aroused by the distant wolf. There had been a sound out of place with the night downwind. Just one, but it worried the dog until he was growling low with his back fully bristled. Something was there.

It ignored both man and dog and exploded across the firelight onto the horse's back, whose screams were answered by another wolf, closer and from a different direction from the first.

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