The Map Stick -

The first journey

By

Alp Mortal

The Carter Seagrove Book Boutique Edition

Text Copyright© 2014 Alp Mortal

All Rights Reserved

Contents

Author's Note 5

The Map Stick 7

Chapter One 9

Chapter Two 13

Chapter Three 24

Chapter Four 35

Chapter Five 45

Chapter Six 48

Chapter Seven 54

Chapter Eight 56

Chapter Nine 62

The Seeing Stone 78

Chapter One – The fox 80

Chapter Two – The lynx 85

Chapter Three – The fawn 96

Chapter Four – Rane’s Desolation 102

Chapter Five – War’s descent 106

Chapter Six – Rane’s Progress 113

Chapter Seven – War’s decision 115

Chapter Eight – Rane’s Decision 117

Chapter Nine – The circle 119

Chapter Ten – The stair 122

Chapter Eleven – The wonders of the world 124

Chapter Twelve – The hunters reunited 127

The Obsidian Eyed Hunter 134

Chapter One – Blinded by the light 136

Chapter Two - Progress is halted 141

Chapter Three - Precarious holds 152

Chapter Four - Separate paths 165

Chapter Five - First reaction 170

Chapter Six - Moving forward 174

Chapter Seven – Storm Demon 181

Chapter Eight – The path to the cavern 186

Chapter Nine – The Cavern under the Mountain 190

Chapter Ten – Game Over 195

Chapter Eleven – In the beginning 199

Chapter Twelve – Day 205

Chapter Thirteen – Night 210

Author's Note

'The Map Stick - the first journey' is the single volume that contains the three stories: 'The Map Stick', 'The Seeing Stone' and 'The Obsidian Eyed Hunter'. Each of the individual stories is available standalone. The decision to combine them was taken to make it easier for you to enjoy the first journey made by War and Rane.

The story, 'The Map Stick - the first journey', charts the journey of two hunters, Rane and War.

In part one, 'The Map Stick', Rane leaves his tribe to find answers; he is shunned by his people and his father is absent; no one will speak to him. He travels and happens across a valley where he stays to hunt and he meets War. War was abandoned in the valley as a child. Rane finds a stick that is carved and it looks like a map to a mountain cavern that holds a star and a fire. They wait out the winter and then leave, determined to find the cavern and answers to their questions.

In part two, 'The Seeing Stone', Rane and War continue in their quest and hold to the path drawn on the map stick. In this part of the story they meet their 'protectors'. The men are separated for a time and War is injured. The consequences of the injury will bring about the greatest change and the biggest test of their love for each other.

In part three, 'The Obsidian Eyed Hunter', the hunters find the cavern under the mountain. How they got there and what they find are nothing like they imagined, and perhaps, nothing like you were expecting either! No spoilers from me.

This is a love story. Neither hunter has loved before, neither has the vocabulary to describe it but love each other they most assuredly do. The journey is a metaphor for love and relationships as much as it is about a quest to find answers to questions and maybe ultimately to discover something amazing.

I hope you enjoy the story and I'm happy to inform you that Rane and War are undertaking a new journey.

Feedback is always welcome. Please feel free to email me:

alpmortal@hotmail.com

And visit the websites

www.alpmortal.weebly.com

www.carterseagrove.weebly.com

And join the forum

www.carter-seagrove.proboards.com

Thank you

Alp Mortal

August 2014

The Map Stick

By

Alp Mortal

Text Copyright© 2014 Alp Mortal

All Rights Reserved

Chapter One

From his vantage point he could see the whole valley from the lower reach to the col at the northern end. He was stood at the entrance, on the western flank looking north to the col and the passes, beyond which lay the plateau of lakes and streams feeding down to the mighty Roge. He’d followed the river for much of its length from his home where it joined the mightier Oarke. The journey to this point had taken two full moons, two more would bring him to a settlement where there were connections to his own through his grandfather and somewhere he could obtain the finest worked stone for his need was arrow heads and a new axe. He had boar’s tusks to trade, the stock of which he hoped to add to with other hunter’s booty for he was a hunter.

A young man of twenty, fit and strong, tall and blessed with his mother’s fair looks and his father’s black hair which flowed about him like ravens’ wings when he didn’t tie it back. He was different to the others in his tribe and his mother was often angry with him, for no apparent reason and the rest shunned him especially his grandfather who would not answer his questions about his father who had been absent his whole life. His prowess with the bow and the spear his only salvation and comfort; yet for all his contributions to the communal pot he was shut out. For these reasons he had volunteered to make the journey, to find inner peace and the answers to his questions.

In the weeks before his departure it was as if he had already left and only his mother spoke to him; she and the grandfather the only ones to say goodbye.  His grandfather had drawn him a map, on a piece of bark, marking the features along the route he should take, keeping to the river until he reached the valley and the passes over the shoulders of the col, thence across the plateau and the valley system at its northern edge still tinged with the cold and blue of the ice fields that fed the bitter winds.  He travelled steadily, camping each night and lighting a fire to heat water and cook his meat.  When he retired he wrapped himself in his fur and curled up to watch the embers die and dreams to fill his sleep.  He hunted and foraged and was never hungry and the weather was reasonably kind for he had left at the very beginning of spring to take advantage of the lengthening days and the growing heat.  If he was lucky he would make the settlement, trade and be back to this point before the snows came and blocked his path.

As it stood he was two months into the journey and by his reckoning at about the point he hoped to have reached.  It was noon judging by the sun and he wanted to hike up to the ridge and find a camping site before night fall.  He climbed steadily for a few hours and made it to the very start of the ridge.  The ridge ran due north to the col and he estimated that it would take two days to reach the plateau.

His hike had been through the forest so the way was slow for there seemed to be no path and as it became steeper it grew rockier and easy footsteps and handholds diminished.  Just on the ridge he found a depression with an overhang at its rear to provide camp for the night and being higher it was cooler and he needed to light the fire early.  It afforded him the best views though and he debated whether to remain a day or two to hunt in the forest which promised much judging by the footprints he’d seen.  There was a spring close by and a stand of ancient ferns which he pillaged for bedding.  He knelt and kissed the bare soil and gave thanks for his safe deliverance that day, a habit learned from his mother.

As the fire grew hotter he rummaged and found his one pot which he filled with water and herbs from his pouch to make an infusion that cleared his head and formed the basis of a broth he made to stave off the chill for although his mother was often angry with him she had taught him many useful skills, not grudgingly, unlike the men in the village who had refused to teach him to hunt until, having taught himself the basics he triumphantly dragged a young stag into the village, to crushing silence, until his grandfather had said something which he hadn’t heard.  After that day he was given lessons, grudgingly but his prowess grew in spite of it.

He roasted some meat on a stick.  The fat sizzled in the fire and it ran down his chin as he fed the succulent pieces of meat into his mouth.  He was dusty, sweat-stained and habitually decorated in soot, earth and dried blood from the kill.  There was still light so he rose and headed for the spring which collected in a natural pool, not deep enough to plunge into but certainly enough to afford a decent wash.

He stripped off the hide shirt and the hide leggings.  His foot coverings were ragged and stank!  He stood naked and used a scrap of hide to wash himself.  The water was bitingly cold but fresh and the prospect of the fire more appealing for it.  He cleaned himself up as best he could and plunged his head into the water.  He bellowed as he withdrew and shook his head vigorously.  He debated if he should wash his clothes and let them dry in front of the fire but he had no soap and opted in the end to don the shirt and leggings but remain barefoot.  The stink was reason enough to dally for a couple of days whilst he made new shoes!  Refreshed he returned to the camp to warm up and take stock of his goods to trade and to make a final decision about remaining in the valley for a day or two to hunt.  He counselled himself that the weather was improving and the way was straight so he could afford the delay and the hunting promised much and his trade goods looked meagre upon inspection.  He fell asleep happily tired ready for the dreams of the chase and the kill to envelope him.

In the morning the light of dawn and the birds woke him and he was refreshed.  He occupied an hour thinking about his life and the journey so far.  Of one thing he was pretty certain and that was if he never went back his loss would not be mourned, not even by his mother or grandfather.  It confused him because he didn’t know why and he couldn’t remember anything he’d said or done that would justify his near ostracism.  His grandfather would not tell him anything about his father and his mother was too angry to approach on that subject.  Being shunned he occupied himself with learning to hunt having first made a spear and thence a bow with bone tipped arrows.  This solitary confinement allowed him to hone those skills and on the rare occasions when he saw the men hunt he saw that he was as good if not better.  Things did change when he dragged his first proper kill into the village.  He assumed the silence was shock but began to feel uncomfortable and wondered what law he might have broken.  Evidently his grandfather said something and the mood lightened but there was no celebration.  However, from that day the men began to teach him their skills, grudgingly and mostly silently.

He wasn’t angry just confused and he wondered what would happen to him if he didn’t go back and what kind of life he would lead.

He decided to stay for a day or two.  He lit the fire to brew his infusion and as he sipped the bitter concoction he practised sound-sight, a skill he’d taught himself.  He sat very still and breathed slowly and deeply for a few minutes.  He picked out a sound, the buzz of a bee and let the colour of the sound take its shape in his mind.  He picked out another, then another, each sound creating a colour which took on a form and in this way he saw things, often a long way off and for hunting it had proved to be extremely useful.  He became aware of a sound and having not heard it for two months he hesitated for it was the sound of someone walking through the forest towards him and if he was not mistaken they were coming along the ridge and within minutes would be behind him.  He sat still with his spear beside him, poised.

Maybe it was the fact that the terrain was unfamiliar but the stranger did not appear along the ridge and just as he began to think that he might have been mistaken he felt the cold edge of a sharp knife on his throat.  He could see nothing of his assailant but if he looked to his left without turning his head he could just make out the edge of the fingers which gripped the blade.  He moved his head slightly and as he did a crack put out his lights.

Chapter Two

He came to and was instantly aware of being bound.  His hands were tied behind his back and his knees and ankles were locked together.  He was lying on his side, facing out, looking over the dead fire towards the other side of the valley.  The shadows told him he hadn’t been out for long, maybe an hour; the pain in his head and the taste of blood in his mouth told him he hadn’t dreamt the attack.  He was alone and because his view was limited he practised sound-sight.  The picture he drew in his head was as lifelike as the paintings he’d seen in the caves at “_____”.  A trip he’d taken with his grandfather and he was sure it had been a reward for his first kill.  After that trip he had used the gift to bring down an owl with his bow one night which he gifted to his grandfather.  The old man sat in pained silence for weeks afterwards and he was sure answers would come.  They didn’t and in fact it got worse; almost as if his prowess was seen as some kind of curse.

He lied for an hour and “saw” nothing then he heard his assailant approach and he feigned unconsciousness.

“I know you are awake” said the man’s voice.

The voice was very different to the voices he knew; it was almost musical.  He recognised the sounds and understood the words but they tasted differently, like meat cooked in strange herbs.

“Where are you from?” asked the voice

The hunter stirred himself and opened his eyes.

“My tribe lives at the joining of the Roge and the Oarke…”

“Why are you alone?”

“I am travelling to the source of the river to a village where I have connections to trade for stone…”

“You still have far to go…I will release you if you promise not to fight”

The hunter thought the words almost child-like.

“You have my word”.

He felt a tug at the thongs which bound him and the blood flowed painfully back into his limbs.

“Sit up and turn around slowly”

He did and just as he thought, the tip of the spear was less than the length of his arm away and level with his heart.  He focused on the point for a moment and then looked along the shaft to the squatting figure.

“What is your name?” said the man

“Rane” replied the hunter

“I am War.  You’re a hunter…”

“Yes…”

Rane wanted to ask a hundred similar questions but his attention was fixed on the face of the man.  The eyes held his attention and his tongue.

“I mean you no harm…I am careful…it isn’t often a lone hunter from a distant tribe is found under these trees.  I am camping not too far from here…you are welcome to share my fire”.

The man’s sudden cordiality allowed Rane to relax a little.

“I would be honoured”;

War got up;

“Gather up your things”;

Rane broke his camp and stowed his gear.  When he was ready War turned and simply said;

“Follow me”.

They hiked for two hours, along the ridge, due north towards the col.  War said nothing and Rane bit his questions back saving them for the camp.  War slowed and then stopped; stooped and pushed back a curtain of low hanging branches; he motioned to Rane to proceed; he pushed through and found himself in a small clearing.  War followed.

The clearing was roughly circular, created by a shallow depression much like Rane’s; on the side farthest from the entry point was a kind of shelf, screened by a framework of branches over which some hides were stretched.  The shelf served as a bed platform.  The hearth was right and centre of that and War quickly got the fire going again;

“Does your head still pain you?” he asked

“A little; I have some herbs in my pack which I will use to make an infusion once the water is hot…”

War didn’t reply and busied himself with the fire and heating the water.  Rane sat watching him.

“Are you a healer? War finally asked

“No, just what my mother showed me.  Do you live here alone?”

“Yes, this is my summer camp, which I will break, I move to my winter camp when the chill comes; the winter is cruel and I need to make repairs to the shelter…”

“Why are you alone; where is your tribe?”

“I don’t know; I was left here as a child…”

“Why?”

“I don’t know…”

“My family has shunned me ever since I can remember and I don’t know why, my mother is always angry and no one will tell me where my father is…”

“Maybe you will find the answers on the path…”

“I hope so…”

Neither said anymore for a while and War just handed him a cup of the water, now steaming.  Rane added the herbs from his pouch and breathed in deeply.

“Try it; it tastes strange at first but it lifts the spirits and dulls the aches in your heart”

War accepted the offered cup and sipped;

“It is good”

They shared the brew, eyeing each other with curiosity rather than fear.  Rane guessed that War was his own age, about twenty, tall and strong but thinner.  His hair was light brown.  He wore similar leggings and a shirt but they were strangely made and he was bare-foot.

“Not far from here is a cascade; do you wish to bathe?”

“Yes, I would…”

“Come…”

War led them out of the camp and off the ridge.  Rane could hear the water already.  They followed a worn path that ended abruptly at a cleft in the hillside which created the waterfall.  War led them down further to the point where they could enter the pool at the cascade’s feet.  At the edge there were several, large smooth stones that made entry easier.

“The water is cold but like your herbs it lifts the spirits”

War began to undress, shedding the shirt first then the leggings.  Rane followed suit, eyeing the other hunter, making the obvious comparisons, assessing his physique.  Both were young men in their prime with bodies sculpted by survival and hunting.  War looked at Rane but seemed less interested in what he saw and without saying a word he turned and strode into the pool, launching off to dive under as soon as he had reached the middle.  He surfaced near the cascade;

“Come, dive; the shock isn’t so great”

Rane hesitated for a moment and then dived under, surfacing quickly, letting out a bellow.  War laughed as he headed to the cascade and stood under the falling curtain.  Rane joined him and stood with arms raised and face upturned allowing the water to flow over his body; it enveloped him in its chill and he recalled a story that his grandfather told of seeing a man encased in ice high in the mountains south and east of his home.  He bowed his head and let the water run over the bump on the back of his head until the pain disappeared.

When he looked up he was alone for War was back at the side of the pool, on one of the stones, drying in the sunshine.  Rane made his way back to sit beside him and to let the sun banish the tingling numbness.  War was laid back; his legs were stretched out and his feet were barely out of the water; his hands were behind his head to provide a cushion against the cold, hard granite; his eyes were closed.  Rane looked across at him and his eyes dwelt on the powerful muscles in his chest, his flat, hard stomach and his manhood, which was thick and long.  Unlike himself, War wasn’t at all hairy, merely covered in light soft down which flowed like whirlpools around the dark buds of his chest and trickled down his body to his manhood where it created a nest of curls out of which the member grew.

Rane felt a surge of energy and he recalled a visitor to his village a few years before, a man, older than himself, who he prayed was his father but the warmth of the welcome his grandfather extended dispelled those thoughts, still, the man was intriguing and Rane could barely keep his eyes from him until his attention was roughly spurned.  He remembered the feelings he had then and the desire to touch the man, at first to make sure he was real and second to feel the warmth of his skin.  He continued to stare until War opened his eyes and then he quickly turned his head.

“How old are you?” he asked to cover his awkwardness

“I think I am twenty years old, I was about eight when I was abandoned here…”

“How did you survive the winters?”

“I was lucky, I found my winter camp first and it has more protection.  I set traps and caught rabbits and soon I had fur and hide to make clothes and coverings but the winter is long here and often I was very hungry…”

“Did you see no one; why haven’t you left?”

“Sometimes I see a hunter and we trade, but mostly all I want to do is talk…where should I go if I left?”

That caused Rane to pause and reflect on his own questions and decisions, indeed, where should he go?

“I need to hunt and it will soon be time to start the preparations for winter, I have repairs to make to the shelter and food and wood to gather, will you stay and help?”

War was looking at him directly, his face open and earnest.

“I planned to get to the village and back before the snow blocks the path over the passes; if I stay I won’t get there before the spring and…”

Yet even as he spoke these words he heard the echo in them because he wasn’t sure he needed or wanted to go farther and if he planned never to return to his village then there was no reason to go so far, at least, not yet.  All the roads he could take and all the questions and decisions arrived at that time and place and he felt pinned to the earth, paralysed and vanquished.

“What is it?” asked War

“I need to think about my journey” was all Rane could say without betraying his emotions

“Come, we should hunt and enjoy fresh meat” said War, unsure of the mood of his companion

They left the pool and returned to the camp to pick up spears and Rane’s bow.

“The bow is less useful in the forest” said War

Rane left it and they headed off, back along the ridge to the south and after an hour they angled down slightly where the trees were thinner and there were a few small open spaces.

“This is the best pasture, there will be deer soon and I need new hides to repair the shelter…”

They hid and waited.  Rane practised sound-sight and caught the sound of a deer, maybe two or three, approaching.

“They come” he said

“How…” but before he could finish the question the deer entered the glade, three females;

Rane slowly picked up his spear and tested the balance.  With practised ease he launched the spear and skewered a doe through her neck; his throw was extremely powerful, created by the whip action he had mastered when he taught himself to hunt.  The doe fell and the others scattered but it mattered not for she would provide ample meat and a useful hide.

“You must teach me to throw like you” said War

“I will…”

They moved forward to retrieve the beast.  As Rane moved closer he bent down to grasp the shaft of the spear, to pull it free and as he did there was a crashing and thundering sound out of the scrub and a large male boar suddenly appeared in the clearing.  Its pace slackened fractionally as it saw Rane and the dead doe but it continued and charged headlong.  Rane could do nothing as his spear was still buried in the doe’s neck.  War could not react quickly enough and his angle was wrong so he could only shout which did cause the beast to turn its head in his direction.  In the few seconds that it took the beast to travel to where Rane was semi-crouched neither could move and the beast crashed into him sending him spinning.  The beast turned but in that moment War was able to adjust his position and he launched his spear which the beast took in the shoulder and it stumbled.  It gave Rane just time to withdraw his spear and he used it to thrust deeply into the animal’s chest.  It punctured its heart and the beast slumped and dropped like a stone.

War ran over to where Rane was standing but his joy at the double kill was short lived because he could see the blood and it was Rane’s.  He had sustained a deep cut along his forearm and across his thigh from the beast as it had crashed into him.

“War!” was all he could manage before the loss of blood and the shock overtook him and he collapsed.

War stood transfixed for a second and then leapt into action.  He tore off his shirt to make bandages for the blood was flowing freely.

“We must get back to the camp for I cannot treat these wounds here and the smell of the blood will attract the wolves…”

He half-picked Rane up and between them they headed off to the camp, which was still an hour’s hike away.  Rane weakened and stumbled frequently but War never let him fall and for the largest part he practically carried him.  Finally they made the camp and War let Rane down gently so he could start the fire.

“I need to stitch the wounds for they are deep and infection or blood loss will finish you off if I don’t…”

But in reality he was talking to himself for Rane was already delirious, shaking and soaked from the sweat of his exertion; his skin was hot but the flow of blood was slowing.  War worked quickly and soon had hot water to bathe the wounds and clean them; the cuts were deep but the edges were clean.  He threaded his fine bone needle with the gut he used to mend his clothes.

“Rane, I am going to stitch the wounds; the pain will be great but try to lie still…”

He pinched the sides of the arm wound together, at one end, and pushed the needle through.  Rane groaned but lay motionless, already weak and barely conscious.  War proceeded to stitch the wounds, ignoring as best he could the groans and cries.  When he had done he covered the wounds in honey and wrapped them in moss, binding them with strips of hide; it was all he knew how to do, except wait.

He banked the fire and laid Rane close to it, wrapped in fur, hoping to sweat the fever out, all the while bathing his face in cool water.  Three days Rane lay and three days War tended him, barely taking his eyes from the young hunter’s face or the shallow rise and fall of his chest.  On the morning of the fourth day he stirred and croaked;

“War…”

“I am here Rane, be still, the fever has passed and you will live to fight another boar”

“We lost the spoils…”

“Better they than you, there are more deer and more boar…”

War redressed the wounds which were healthy and the skin was cooler.

“I fear you will not be moving on until these are healed …”

The answer to his question had come, made for him and he was easier in his mind for it;

“I shall stay and help you through the winter”

War was happy because each Winter was very hard for him and even now as a young strong man he felt anxious the whole time; his childhood nightmares were never far away and in the earlier years he had come close to death a few times; with Rane to help he felt confident for the first time.

“We will stay here until you can walk and use your arm; I will hunt and forage as I planned; when you are stronger we will visit the winter camp and see what repairs are needed; for now I need to wash you because you stink!”

War set two hides on the ground and helped Rane to reposition himself so that War could bathe him for he stank to high heaven.  With warm water infused with sweet herbs he bathed Rane’s body and cleaned away the dried blood, stale sweat and grim.  Rane lay naked watching War as he washed him.

“It is a long time since someone washed me” he said, feeling a little awkward

War smiled but said nothing and just continued to bathe him, letting the hot sun dry him off.

Rane closed his eyes because it was easier and he liked the feeling of the rough cloth being rubbed over his skin; he sensed that his manhood was swelling, though it was not yet hard.  He felt War’s hand brush against it as he washed his thigh; it twitched; he felt the hand return and the hand grasped him just beneath the head which was now exposed; he moaned softly because it felt good and he grew under the pressure of the hand.  He’d seen the men of his tribe naked many times and a few, like the visitor, had stirred feelings in him; whether it was right or wrong he knew not for no one had spoken to him and unlike the other young men of his tribe he had not been initiated into the fellowship of the hunters so he’d kept the feelings to himself.  No one had ever touched him before and the sensation was magnified tenfold; he breathed out heavily and the hand was withdrawn; he opened his eyes to see War kneeling beside him, looking down at his body;

“No one has ever touched me before…”

“I…”

Rane reached out and took his hand, bringing it back slowly; placing it on his manhood, letting his own fall away;

“It felt good”

War grasped the shaft again and squeezed gently; Rane let out a moan and War squeezed again.  Instinct took over and Rane lifted his hips slightly so that the shaft slipped within War’s fist; the feeling of the hand rubbing over the head of his manhood was like a Summer storm and he lowered and raised his hips again to repeat the thrusting movement; War took over and moved his hand, gripping all the while; lengthening the stroke and squeezing harder; he increased the speed watching as Rane’s face creased in pained ecstasy, his mouth slightly open, his breathing ragged, faster he went, gripping harder until Rane let out a bellow and his fluid shot out in hot ribbons.

He released Rane’s manhood and waited for Rane to open his eyes.  He had never touched anyone before and the infrequent visitors he’d had over the years had never engaged with him in this way, perhaps some horseplay at the pool but not like this; he too knew not if it was right or wrong but he too knew it felt good and ached for a hand to touch him there.

Rane opened his eyes and smiled;

Neither had words to express their feelings; eventually War said;

“You should rest; I will cook us something, you need to regain your strength, the loss of blood will leave you weak and prone to fever…”

In truth, Rane felt stronger but almost instantly, as the hardness and the feelings subsided he felt weak and thirsty.

War prepared a broth, steeping fresh meat in some hot water to extract the goodness to which he added honey and herbs, some pungent bulbs which Rane had never seen before and some seeds, a greenish brown in colour that were bitter yet sweet;

“Drink it slowly.  It will help you to make up the loss of blood and the white bulb will cleanse the blood and make your heart stronger…”

“How do you know this?”

“I ask a lot of questions when I have a guest!”

War left him briefly to pick the sweet red wild strawberries that were in profusion.  Rane slept again so he foraged and built up their wood pile and prepared more broth.  Rane woke just before the sun set.

“I should like to relieve myself, can you help me?”

War helped him to the place he used, it wasn’t far but the ground was steep and uneven.  Leaning on War’s shoulder, he relieved himself.

“Is it wrong when men touch each other like I touched you?” asked War as he waited for Rane to finish urinating.

“I don’t know; why should it be wrong?”

“Did other men touch you like I did?”

“No, but my tribe shunned me, but the men had mates and we do not…”

“I have seen young male stags mating each other; I think they do it because they do not have mates of their own…”

“I have seen this too, so I don’t think it is wrong, we do not have mates but we have feelings nonetheless…”

“Yes, that is how it seems…”

They returned to the camp and it was almost dark so War banked the fire and made Rane comfortable.  He tended to his own bed.

“I am glad you want to stay” he said

“I am glad too”

Chapter Three

The next few weeks proceeded quietly and for War, busily, for he had his usual preparations to make and the additional work of looking after Rane, but that was getting easier as the young hunter got stronger and soon he was up and about again albeit he needed to rest frequently.

The longest day approached.

“Soon we must go to the winter camp and see what repairs are needed, we need to hunt to build up our stocks and I will need hides to patch the roof of the shelter…”

“I am much stronger; I need to feel the shaft of my spear in my hand”

“Tomorrow we will hunt and feast to celebrate”

Rane sharpened his spear and check his bow and arrows and generally fussed with his kit.  He tested his strength and exercised his arm, working out the kinks and the aches.

“Don’t work it too hard”

“I feel the strength flowing back…”

War smiled, a hunter was always a hunter.

“How far is the winter camp?”

“Farther than we can go and return in one day; we should plan to stay there for a few days but I have things stored there so we shall not have to carry so much…”

“Why do you not stay there all year?”

“The hunting is poor in the summer for the animals move down the valley to the sweeter grass.  In the beginning I stayed there longer but then I learned to follow the beasts and was less hungry for the lesson!”

Rane contemplated what he said and realised that however hard his life in the village had been he had never been hungry and had never been in fear of his life.  He still could not imagine how a child had survived the winter alone, he eyed War with a little more wonder and a great deal more respect.  As he looked upon him he also felt something else but he had never felt it before, it was strong like anger but different in that he felt that he wanted to be there with War, to protect him and more than that, to be close to him, to feel the warmth of his body and the grip of his hand.

The following day they hunted and brought down a young male deer, they feasted on the most succulent parts and hung the rest for drying.

“We celebrate this day in my village with a feast and there is song and dancing until sunset”

“A visitor to the valley, a long time ago, gave me this” said War and he found the instrument, a piece of wood hollowed out and a beater, he struck the wood and made the “glock” like sound

“It is like some of the drums in my village; we can feast and make song and dance!”

War beat the drum and Rane danced, a tribal dance of thanks giving and they offered gifts to the gods and Rane taught War a few songs although he knew some, gifts from other visitors.

As the sun set they sat and watched the shadows lengthen until it was dark.  War banked the fire and they continued to sit and watched the stars appear.  It was very late when they finally fell asleep.

Dawn came and they decided to head to the winter camp so they left early and it took the whole day to hike to the camp, which was due north, along the ridge.  They stopped frequently to allow Rane to rest and War foraged for berries, herbs and sweet young shoots and the blossom of a yellow plant which he used to make a tincture, it was especially good in the winter for easing the heaviness of the mind as he described it.

“When will the snows come?” Rane asked

“As early as the tenth full moon after the shortest day and it can lay for six full moons, but often it is just bitterly cold and wet, which is why the shelter must be repaired, it is where I store much of my food and wood, but you will see, we are not far now”

“Does no one else live in the forest?”

“I have seen no one in all the time I have been here”

They hiked a way further all the time towards the col and the passes.  Nearer the col the terrain became steeper, rocky and looser, and there were deep crevices and overhangs.

“We are here, take that path between the shoulders of those two rocks and you will find a plateau beyond but take care for the ground is loose” said War pointing

The path angled down sharply from the ridge.

Rane proceeded and passed between the shoulders of the rocks and found himself on a small flat plain; on the furthest side were two massive boulders, shoulder to shoulder and between them a space, protected by War’s shelter, a framework of young saplings covered in hides.  The awning extended out from the rocks some way and reached the ground, in the centre was a door flap.  Rane was amazed, the framework was intricate and it was covered in hides, some only the size of his hand, all sewn together.  The seams were covered in resin making it waterproof.

A few of the saplings had snapped and a few of the hides were loose or had rents in them.

“It is normal for there to be some damage, it is not too bad, I think it will take only a few days to make good”

Behind the shelter was the space which War occupied the whole winter; his bed was located under the overhang of one of the boulders and under the other he stored his wood.  In the area in front of the stones were his drying racks, piles of bones, spare hides and more wood.  Between the stones, he stored his food and further back he lit the fire and dried his meat.

The awning joined the rocks at the point just before they separated again, it was the weakest point and neither stone offered that much purchase and in fact the entire awning was held by a peg driven into the joint between them at a height of two men.  The structure effectively lay against the stones and was sealed around the edge as best could be managed.

Rane wondered how it withstood the winter but clearly it did.

“How long did it take you to build the shelter?”

“Three years, at the beginning I crawled into the farthest corner behind them to stay dry and warm, I could then for I was only a boy.  The longest task was collecting all the hides”

Rane noticed that many were small.

“It can bare the weight of the snow and remains dry for the most part…”

Rane examined everything closely and War smiled, pleased that at last his handiwork was receiving some credit.

The repairs were few and not that serious and the following day they started and with the two of them it took less than half the time.

“We should seal the seams with wax” said Rane

“With wax?”

“Yes, from the bees’ nest”

“I have not seen this done, can you show me?”

“If you can show me where there are bees?”

“Certainly, come…”

They hiked a short distance to an old tree the trunk of which was massive and there was a scar, caused by a branch which had broken away within which there was a nest; they could hear the hum some distance off.

“We’ll need a fire to drive them away” said Rane

They collected green stuff and lit a fire at the base of the tree, driving the smoke up and into the nest to force the bees out and soon they made their escape.  Quickly War dislodged the precious hive material and placed it in a hide bag.  They doused the fire and beat a retreat.

War had been stung three times and Rane only once, they treated the stings with honey and Rane told War that the sting was good for aches in the joints but War remained unconvinced.

They got back, immediately they separated the rich golden honey from the wax and then started on the repairs.  In the process they become plastered with honey and wax.  They had stripped for the work and stood back pleased with their efforts and laughed at the state of each other.  Rane stole a glance at his companion and his feelings were reignited.  The young hunter’s body was magnificent and the muscles were emphasised by the glistening sheen.  He reached out, pretending to brush something away from War’s shoulders so that he could feel the warmth of the skin; he let his hand drift down his back to the mound of his buttocks.  He moved closer, standing behind War, enveloping him in his arms.  He bent his head to kiss his neck.  War shuddered and moved back to press himself closer.  Rane moved forward, pulling War into himself, holding tighter.  His manhood was swelling.  He saw the young stags in his mind’s eye and recalled how they penetrated each other; he shifted to drive his manhood deeper.  There was some little resistance but the honey and wax lubricated his entry and he slipped into War who shifted to push his buttocks back and up to receive the stiff shaft.

Neither spoke and both were holding their breath but War let his go slowly and groaned.  Rane instinctively moved back and forth, at first slowly and then more quickly, in truth he had little control, need overtook thought, desire infused them both.  Rane’s hands slid from War’s shoulders to grip him at the hips and he thrust more deeply and more quickly, his breath escaping in short ragged gasps.

“War…”

He felt the intense feeling build and lost all sense of time and place, he just thrust, now more slowly and he felt the pumping in his loins and his seed shot out and with each spasm of his ejaculation he cried out, like a stag.  Finally he slumped forward, resting his torso on War’s back who was bent over slightly;

“Just like the stag…” he murmured

Rane did not want to withdraw but eventually War’s spasms pushed him out and the sound made them laugh.  War felt the urge to evacuate his bowel and some of the seed dribbled out and ran down his legs.

“Come, we need to wash, there is a pool just below us, large enough for one of us to bathe at a time…”

They headed to the pool and did their best to remove the worst of the sticky and now pungent mess from their bodies.  They ran back, dripping wet and shivering to claim the fire and dry off, both were bubbling with excitement.

War made them a strong and sweet infusion using the fresh honey and fresh herbs.

“Did it hurt?” Rane asked

“No, not like cutting myself or knocking my head.  The pain melted like ice in to the searing heat of the fire and I wanted it to last for a lifetime…”

“Perhaps the honey and wax helped”

“Perhaps and it feels like you are still inside me…”

“I should like to feel it too” said Rane

War looked at him;

“Men and women mate but it is different isn’t it?”

“Yes, but I have never mated with a woman, no one showed me or told me how it is done but I think it is like when animals mate, the male enters the female but in a different way and she bears young, the male does not.  Young males play and mate like the male and female, those without mates must surely have a strong need to release their seed; it makes sense that they do it that way; I think that is the way it is…”

“Your need was strong and you released your seed into me…”

“I want to feel you inside me…”

Talking about it re-ignited the feelings and they were both hard again.  War fetched the honey and wax and his cries echoed across the valley as he released his seed inside of Rane.

That was how it was, whenever they felt the need to release their seed they mated like young stags.  That night they lay together for the first time and every night thereafter, with their arms around each other and their bodies pressed close.

The following day whilst War was out foraging, Rane stumbled for his leg was still a little weak.  He had been using his spear to support himself.  In his fall he broke the shaft.  He did not get up immediately in fact he closed his eyes for he took it as a sign and he practised sound-sight, not outwards like he did when he wanted to find his quarry, but inwards to find answers to his most difficult questions.  He did not know why his mother was always angry with him or why his grandfather refused to answer his questions; he did not know why the tribe shunned him and the why the men had refused to teach him to hunt or welcome him into their brotherhood.  He did not want to spend the rest of his life asking the same questions and receiving no answers.  He knew he had a choice to either return and demand to know or to let it go and never return, forging a new life for himself, perhaps to find another tribe and find a home and a mate; strangely though he felt anxious when he contemplated leaving War; could it be that he might stay with him, living together, two young stags without mates?

He knew that War was afraid to leave the valley but he had travelled and there was a vastness to explore, perhaps without end and he wished to see more of it.  As he searched deeper he saw only blackness.

He roused himself and found War back, busy making an infusion.

“You were so deep in trance I was afraid that you should never return…”

The sun told him that he had been gone for hours.

“I delved for answers to my questions but found only black emptiness…”

War handed him the brew and caught sight of the fresh scar on his arm;

“It is healing but it will be red and angry for a long time”

“Each time I see it I shall be reminded of how I came by it” the words said with some kind of pain, “I need to find a sapling to make a new spear…”

He left the camp.  War sat thoughtfully for a moment for he too had unanswered questions and he too felt anxious when he thought about the time when Rane would leave and he was alone again.

Rane did not go far for there was plenty of good wood thereabouts.  He wanted a young, strong, straight sapling to forge his new spear and he spied a coppice and went to investigate further.  It was as he bent down to grasp the base of the first sapling that he saw it, a piece of wood, not quite the length of his forearm nor quite as thick.  The unusual whiteness of it had attracted his attention and initially he thought it must be a bone, bleached in the sun.  It wasn’t a bone, but wood; it was heavy and unlike anything he had seen before, certainly not a species he knew.  He picked it up; if it had been the colour which had grabbed his attention at first then the markings on the surface of the stick held it.

“What have you found?”

War was beside him and he jumped.  He held the piece of wood out for War to see;

“It is covered in markings” said War, peering closer

“I can see rivers and mountains; flames of fire, wolves’ teeth; clouds and wind…”

The stick was covered in an intricate and beautifully etched landscape;

“It is like the map that my grandfather gave me when I left the village…”

“Where does it start and end?” asked War

Rane looked at the stick and turned it, it seemed to him that it started at a point on one of the ends where a small river joined the mighty Oarke and he followed the line and turned the stick to trace it all the way to the top where it ended at a range of mountains beneath which was etched a shape like a star amidst a sea of flames.

“If this is the joining of the rivers then it is a long march from here, south and then east and these mountains are like the ones my grandfather described when he saw the man encased in ice.”

They took the stick back to the camp barely able to take their eyes from it and fresh details emerged all the while.

Caverns, cascades, plains with herds of animals, valleys, the dens of wolves, the nests of eagles, all was revealed and each time they looked their eyes were drawn to the mountains, the star and the sea of flames.

They sat down, across from each other, the fire between them, neither spoke.  Rane had the stick but for all its power and attraction he looked across at War; the sparks of the fire rose and danced in the air.  War reached back and loosened his hair letting it fall about his shoulders.  He pulled his shirt up and over his head to reveal his naked torso, the shadows cast by the fire danced across his skin.  He held out his hand, inviting Rane to join him.  Rane came to his side and sat down, shedding his shirt.  War touched him, his hand was warm but he still shuddered.  War lent in and kissed his chest.  Rane ran his hands through the thick mass of his curls feeling the urge to pull his head up so that he could kiss his mouth.  War moved up and turned his head, Rane bent his and their lips met; the pressure as soft as a snowflake but the heat was like the hot coals of the fire.  They moved in unison and pressed harder, opening their mouths slightly to feel the warm breath.  War still had his hand on Rane’s chest and he pushed him back, he moved to straddle him, leaning in to kiss him again, this time forcing his tongue between his lips and teeth; Rane sucked it greedily.

No experience told him what to do; no words came to his mind, only desire and the need to be close.

War bent over Rane’s body and kissed his throat and moved down to kiss his chest and further still to kiss his stomach.  Rane squirmed slightly for he was raging hard.  War sat up and placed his hands on the edge of the leggings, curling his fingers under the fabric.  Rane loosened the thong at his side, War pulled and the leggings slipped, far enough to reveal the hair at the base of his manhood.  Rane lifted his hips and War pulled the leggings down further, to reveal the hard shaft.  He leant forward and kissed it on the tip, licking it slowly; it was wet and sticky; he liked the taste and licked again and then took it into his mouth and sucked.  Rane squirmed and put his hands on War’s head, pressing down.  War backed off slightly and looked along Rane’s body to his eyes; they were burning like his own.  He went down again and took the shaft deeper into his mouth and sucked.  Rane could not keep still, he bucked, wanting to thrust deeper and he could not find the edge of his feelings it was as if he were under water, or under the fire, in the fire, he was the fire and from the centre of that fire rose a pillar of fire and its sides were red from the flames which were wrapped around the pillar; tongues of red.  His seed shot out into War’s mouth, without warning, he had no control.  War gagged and swallowed.  He sat up to see Rane collapse under him, the fire quelled and the flames dying.  He lent in to kiss him and Rane tasted his seed on War’s lips and tongue, it was strange but he licked it up, for a second the flames leapt up again and then all was quiet.

He opened his eyes to find War’s, still sat astride him.

“It tastes like the herbs, sweet yet bitter…” he said

“I wanted to taste it” replied War, “it was not like I expected, I thought it would be like milk but it was more like honey”

“Your need is strong too” said Rane, for War’s manhood was pressed against the hide of his leggings, forming a mound

“Yes, it is strong”

“Can I take your seed in my mouth as you did mine?”

War didn’t answer but simply untied the thong and let the leggings slip down to reveal his shaft.  Rane coiled forward and kissed it like War had done, he could taste a little of the seed, it aroused him again.  He sucked deeply.  He touched War’s scrotum, feeling its weight, its heat, he gripped it gently; War cried out slowly.  He reached further beneath him, sliding his fingers along the soft skin until he felt the depression where War’s hole was buried, he found it out and rubbed it gently; War was moaning, gasping for his breath.  Where first his shaft had gone his finger followed; he pushed in gently, feeling the tension back off.  He found a place which made War mad with desire and he kneaded it, feeling the muscles contract and relax around his finger, slowly at first and then more quickly and he knew War would soon release his seed, he sucked harder and kneaded the spot which drove War into a frenzy; War’s cry told him the seed was coming and then he felt the thick liquid in his mouth, he sucked and swallowed, wanting it all inside of him, there was more, it came in spurts, hitting the back of his throat.

He backed off, withdrawing his finger at the same time and lay back, War collapsed on to him.

Neither spoke and they just curled up together in front of the fire and drifted off into dreams of red flames and green stars.

Chapter Four

In the few days after they toiled together, feeling the need to be close; the bonds were growing stronger and they started to move in concert, weaving themselves in and out of the chores that needed to be done.  War said he felt like the wind in the branches of the trees.

“We can return to the summer camp soon, our work here is almost done and I have never been so well prepared for the winter…”

“I want to finish my new spear and hunt for the softest, milkiest hide to make new boots; why do you always go barefoot?”

“When I was left here as a child I had none and they are hard to make so I gave up at first but then my feet hardened and I preferred the feeling of the earth under my feet…”

Rane knew how cold it was in his own village in winter and he could not imagine being without the fur lined hide boots his mother made for him;

“But in the winter?”

“I got used to it but sometimes the cold was so bad it made me cry with pain…”

“I can make you a pair, for the winter”

War looked at him.  He had never felt love, never seen love, never spoken of love; he knew how he felt when, in spring, he came out of hibernation and looked upon the valley and similarly when he looked upon the autumn colours, he knew there were strong good feelings.  When Rane offered to make him boots he felt a strong good feeling, different to the feeling when they released their seed, something like the feeling he had when they just lay together under the stars.  Rane had seen love but did not know love, he had never felt love but he could speak of it.  He knew how he had felt when he had thought about what it would be like if he left, to him, love filled the hollowness, filled the emptiness.

“I would like a pair of boots for the winter” was all he could say and the words felt thick in his throat and his heart was pounding in his chest and it skipped a beat.

Rane smiled and went back to smoothing the shaft of the new spear.

They finished their preparations and headed back to the summer camp; they returned by nightfall and the full moon rose, the first since the longest day.  The following day they hunted and Rane wanted hides for the boots.  War told him of a milky white doe, he was afraid of her; she had a strange aura he said.  Rane practised sound-sight and found the herd, lower down to the south on the pasture below the tree line, near the bank of the river.  They headed off; Rane was itching to let the new spear fly and he took the bow.  Before the tree line they split up, Rane headed behind the herd and War in front, the plan was for War to drive them up and higher, into Rane’s sights.  The white doe was amongst them yet she appeared to be standing alone.  War crept down towards the bank, crawling at times so that the grass hid him; the herd sensed something and a quiver ran through their ranks; they began to move off.  Rane was poised, with bow drawn, waiting for them to pass by him; he wanted to hit her in the neck for he didn’t want to spoil the hide.  As the herd passed him she looked in his direction, her gaze penetrated his brain and he felt unable to move.  She passed on and he went for a female near the rear of the group; he brought her down; her fall caused the others to bolt.  War came up;

“You had the white doe in your sights why did you let her pass”

He was unable to answer at first; he wasn’t even sure he knew;

“It didn’t feel right” he finally said

They dragged the beast back to the camp in silence and neither spoke as they gutted her and separated the parts.

War went to check his traps and brought back two hares, big males.

“We need the fur for the boots” was all Rane said

“What is troubling you Rane?” War asked

“I felt weak, powerless when the doe looked at me; I had no more strength than a child, I could not kill her…”

“She is special, I have seen wolves run passed her as if she were invisible; in all my time I have never seen her with a fawn…”

“Perhaps she is the Goddess herself”

They resumed their work and Rane showed War how he would make the boots, once the hide was ready; War soaked up knowledge.

“When I was a child my mother made coverings from soft hide, just gathered and tied around the ankle but as I grew they needed to be stronger.  She cut a sole from thick hide, sometimes more than one layer and to that she sewed a softer part that covered my foot and extended up my leg above the ankle.  In the winter she made a simple sock of fur to slip inside to keep my foot warm…”

“Older hide would be better for the sole, it does not wear so quickly” he said, watching intently, thinking hard “and we should seal the seam with wax to keep the water out”

Rane smiled

“Why are you smiling?”

“Sometime you are like a child and then in the blink of an eye you appear as old and wise as my grandfather…”

They carried on working and their feelings began to elevate for there had been a tension in the air since the incident with the doe.  That night they feasted and offered gifts to the Goddess.  They released their seed like young stags under a clear sky with the light of the moon shining on their backs, which glistened with sweat.

There was something Rane wanted to do; he wanted to explore the valley and maybe take War out beyond the mouth to show him that there was nothing to fear.  He suggested it but War looked afraid and visibly shaken.

“I came here from that way, the path is clear, I should like to show you and we do not need to go far…”

War sat contemplating; for years he had thought about leaving but something held him back; he had stood on the col and looked north across the plains imagining he could see the blue tinged edge of the ice field.

“I will go with you to the entrance” he said

They left the following day and headed down to the flatter ground which was easier to traverse, they camped within sight of the entrance.

“I travelled for two full moons without harm and the land is soft and green and the hunting is good and there are fish in the river”

“Fish?”

“Fish; the animals that live in the water, let me show you…”

The next day they walked to the entrance to the valley; War had never been to this place but even he could see that the country beyond was not that much different.

“I won’t leave you and if you feel afraid then we will go back” said Rane

War said nothing and marched on, passing beyond the valley for the first time in twelve years.  Instead of shrinking with fear he felt stronger, taller and lighter.  He looked back at Rane beaming with the joy of the release from his nameless fear, his invisible prison.

They found a shallow place to enter the river and bathed, drying in the warm sun.

“I will catch a fish for you to eat this night” said Rane and he entered the shallows and stood motionless with his spear poised.  After a considerable time he let the spear fly and something thrashed in the water which made War jump.  Rane retrieved the spear and on the end was a big fat brown trout which he carried back.

“Get the fire going” he said and War busied himself as Rane gutted the fish and skewered small pieces on thin lengths of wood which he held over the fire until the skin turned crispy; he offered some to War who took it gingerly, smelling it first.

He tasted it and chewed slowly.

“It is good, not like meat, but tasty…”

Rane stuffed his mouth full of the milky white and creamy flesh for he had not tasted fish since he had entered the valley and for many days before that.

“Do you wish to camp here tonight?”

War looked at him, conflicting emotions playing out on his brow.

“I will camp here tonight with you” he said, finally

Rane smiled and gave him more fish.

Later he brought forth the stick and in the dying light they examined it again.

“If this is the tributary then it is one full moon’s march back the way I came to a path east and one full moon to this point which is the beginning of the map.  I do not know this terrain and I would not like to venture how long it would take to reach the mountains…”

“We should leave in early spring” said War and Rane was momentarily confused

“Leave in early spring?  Together?”

“Yes, together.  I know you will not rest until you have seen the mountains and the star beneath the sea of flames but I do not want to be alone, I do not want to wave goodbye to another visitor wondering when I should see the next; I want to be with you…”

“We may never return to the valley…”

“I know and it has been my home for twelve years but I cannot stay here forever, I do not wish to die without seeing something of the land, but I do not want to go alone…”

“Then we shall travel together, for as long as our path goes the same way”

“Tomorrow I wish to travel for one day from this place, out of the sight of the valley and the col”

It was concluded and Rane had many thoughts that night as he lay with his arms around War who slept soundly!  He knew he had to travel to the mountains to see the strange star beneath them amidst the sea of flames and he did not want to leave War behind but he was unsure of the rest, mating like stags because they had no mates was one thing, living together for the rest of their lives was a matter which to him felt strange and if there was a choice he did not know which he would choose yet.  As he finally closed his eyes his last thought was that the path would be more lightly trod with War at his side; by way of confirmation War stirred and then held him more tightly.

The following day they journeyed, due south, out of reach of the valley and by noon it was too distant and obscure to see; War marched on, he did not look back, only ahead, with Rane beside him, chattering about the journey he had taken in.  They stopped in the late afternoon, camping by the river on the soft sweet grass.  They bathed and dried in the sun as she dipped.  Rane practised sound-sight and “saw” some deer approaching and at the edge of his vision a different shape, one he had never encountered so he did not know what is was, only that it moved stealthily.  War’s senses were on alert since he’d left the valley;

“A lone wolf” was all he said

The hair on Rane’s back and neck stood up, not in fear but in excitement.

A small herd of deer emerged and went to drink at the water’s edge; they were a hundred paces away and upwind of the strangers so calm.  Within a few minutes they could see the wolf, fifty paces closer to the herd; a lone, white wolf, female and injured.

War turned to gain Rane’s attention but he had already moved off, crawling in the long grass, his bow slung over his back and his spear grasped in his hand.

“Is he mad?” whispered War to himself but he had no choice but to follow.

They crept along the margin of the river, following the wolf.  Whereas the deer had been the intended quarry, it was now the wolf that Rane wanted, or rather, her white fur, it was highly prized.  They were gaining on her because she limped badly and it seemed unlikely that she could bring down a deer by herself in her condition, but something was driving her on.

She was twenty paces from the herd and they twenty paces behind her when Rane decided it was time; he drew the bow but her stance afforded him no real aim, he needed her to turn side on.  He lowered the bow and found a stone which he threw, to her right, into the water; the splash made them all turn and in the second it took deer and wolf to see the ripples on the surface of the water and no doubt conclude it had been a trout he drew the bow and let fly an arrow into her neck, just behind the jaw.  She yelped and made to flee but her injury and the arrow slowed her and Rane was up and running with his spear poised to finish her off; the deer bolted as soon as he stood up.  She turned to defend herself and as Rane approached she leapt at him, seemingly with no regard for her safety.  His spear met her in mid-flight and she dropped; landing so that she drove the spear deeper into her chest.  It punctured her heart and she was dead before she had stopped rolling.  Rane moved warily, remembering the boar but she was lifeless.  He already had his knife unsheathed by the time he was kneeling at her side.

War came up to his shoulder.

“Are you mad, there could have been others…?”

“I would have “seen” them; she was injured and slow…”

“And desperate…”

Rane wasn’t really paying any attention for he had already started to remove the pelt.  War moved off and heard a sound, a meowing.  Further back along the river he found her cub in a clump of grass, its coat still wet from where she had carried it from the den site, it was crying with hunger and fear so he picked it up and held it close to his chest, instantly it looked for the teat, finding none it squirmed and meowed all the louder.  He wandered back to Rane.

“She had a cub”

Without looking up he said “kill it, it won’t survive”

War had no intention of killing it not that he had any idea how he was going to feed it but the cub was pure white with blue eyes, surely a gift he thought.

“No, I won’t kill it but I do have to try to feed it, he’s hungry…”

Rane looked his way and saw the white ball of fluff in his arms.

“A white cub!  The pelt would make for the softest and warmest lining for your boots…”

“This one is special but I don’t know how to feed it, it wants milk”

He rummaged in his pack and found some honey; he dipped his finger in it and held it under the cub’s nose, almost straightaway it licked it up, instantly crying for more, he gave him more and eventually the cub was quiet.

Rane came over.

“He is indeed special, his mother was carrying his unborn twin still in her womb, I think the birth must have been difficult and she was somehow injured…”

“You have your pelt…”

The words carried a tension and discord but Rane wasn’t sure why War should feel that way, they were hunters and white pelts were highly prized.

“We should head back to the camp” was all he said

“Tomorrow I wish to return to the valley” said War

Rane said nothing as he gathered up his things and moved off, except;

“You will need to give the cub a name if you intend to keep it and train it to hunt”

“What do you call the full silver moon?”

“Fen”

“I shall call him Fen; he shines like the full moon”

“Fen…it is a good name, let us hope he survives to see the next”

They returned to the camp and by the time they got back the cub was restless and War put him down, instantly he was into everything and scampering about.  He shied away from Rane and eyed the pelt warily; eventually he started crying again and War fed him more honey, it satisfied him and it wasn’t long before the cub fell asleep in his arms.

“He cannot survive on honey…”

“Tomorrow I shall grind some meat with it and make a thin paste; perhaps that will satisfy him”

Rane eyed them both with doubt written across his face but the cub was special and if trained properly he would make a fine hunter.

The cub slept with them, curled up between them and the night passed peaceably.

The following morning War was more relaxed and Rane wondered if he would make the journey in the Spring, still, that was months away and they had to survive the Winter, in his village he never thought about the possibility of dying due to the cold or hunger and he wondered just how bad it was going to get in reality, War had survived alone hadn’t he?

They hiked back to the camp.  War carried the cub for the most part, in a make shift sling, but from time to time he put the cub down and watched in wonder as the youngster was already picking up scents and laying ambush for voles and mice.

They got back to the Summer camp at dusk; War lit the fire and prepared the paste for Fen which he made by grinding some meat with honey and water.  The cub licked it from his fingers greedily and was soon asleep in War’s bundle of hides and furs.  Rane examined the stick again, turning it this way and that, tracing paths and all the while he was nodding his head slowly;

“Are you sure of the start?”

“More than sure; although I have never been there it is as my grandfather described his journey from the mountains to the south and east.  We should have no difficulty finding the place where the rivers meet and if the markings and my grandfather’s memory are true there is a settlement there”

War felt both anxious and excited, despite never leaving the valley in twelve years he dreamed, one day, of finding his tribe and understanding why he had been abandoned, he knew there must have been a reason and he wondered if the map had been left for him to find, when he was ready, but Rane had found the stick so were their Fates somehow intertwined or was it just luck on Rane’s part, he, War, had scavenged around the Winter camp untold times and had never found it, was Rane therefore part of his future?”

The last few days had brought forth so many emotions and he struggled to digest them; he resisted Rane’s advances that night, grateful that the cub became restless, it plagued his mind that Rane should have so little regard for his own safety and so little respect for the white wolf, his desire to possess the pelt had blinded him to the danger; was that how it would always be?

Chapter Five

In the following few weeks they trained Fen.  Well, Rane started but had less patience and he got angry when Fen made a mistake but having scolded the cub would pick him up and apologise.  It wasn’t working.  War took charge of his discipline and training, leaving Rane to be the den mate, and secretly both were glad it worked out that way.  Fen responded to War’s voice much more readily and made fewer mistakes, was heartily praised when he got it right and told off when he didn’t but War was constant and fair.  The diet of honey and ground meat obviously suited him for he grew at an astonishing rate and his coat was thick and shone like the silver moon.  He rarely let War out of his sights but he played with Rane all the time and he was none too gentle but Rane never complained.

At night the wolf insisted on sleeping between them and it was weeks since the hunters had released their seed.  Each time either of them moved to caress the other the wolf got agitated and most often attacked Rane and defended War.

“He has to learn” shouted Rane, exasperated

“He thinks you are attacking me and is defending me, shouting won’t help…Fen, go and hunt”

The wolf looked confused for a moment but War had not spoken the command angrily, in fact he had used a special voice, one which he didn’t realise he possessed; the wolf responded, at first by nuzzling up to him seeking reassurance and then he bounded off.

Rane looked on, a little put out, but pleased none the less that he had War to himself at last.

“You have a way with him…”

“I hear his thoughts, what he needs…”

“I need you…”

The evening was still and warm, a few days before the full moon in August.  The fire was low for there was no need of the heat.  The hunters were lying together, naked and uncovered.  War moved the fill the gap which Fen had created; he touched Rane on the chest lightly with his fingertips; Rane shuddered and closed his eyes.  Fingertips were replaced by his lips; he kissed softly, just with his lips, barely making contact with the warm skin.  He moved to graze on one of the hot erect buds and Rane moaned, shifting his position to turn slightly.  War slowly licked the bud and breathed on it; Rane grew hard under his caress.  He sucked the teat, gently at first then harder and at the same time his hand found the stiff shaft and he gripped it tightly, just under the head;

“War…” groaned Rane, lost in waves of blue ice and red flames

War moved from one teat to the other then descended down the centre of Rane’s body, kissing it all along its length until he reached the base of the shaft.  He licked up and down, avoiding the head for he knew Rane was driven mad with the anticipation; when he registered that Rane was nearing the point of frenzy he enveloped the head of the shaft in his mouth and sucked, slowly and deeply, rhythmically and he massaged the shaft all the while.  Rane arched his back, pushing up his hips to drive his manhood deeper which War allowed.  It had been weeks since he had released his seed and whereas their love making had become slow and long this time it was urgent and Rane released almost immediately and War struggled to contain the seed in his mouth as he swallowed.

Rane relaxed his body and gently let down his back and hips.  He knew there were words he wanted to say, words that perhaps all mates said to each other at this time but he didn’t know the words, had never heard those words;

“War…I…”

He didn’t know what to say but his need to express it was so strong, stronger than his urge to release his seed had been;

“I…”

“Rane, I know, the words don’t come to me, but I know there are words; these feelings are stronger than any I have ever felt…”

What neither of them could frame just yet was the thought that, whereas at first the release had been just that, a release, like the adolescent stags, it had become more, not just a release, greater than a need, it was a choice.

They held each other and kissed.

“Do you want to release your seed?” asked Rane

“No, not yet, I am satisfied, your fire was hot enough for both of us…”

Fen returned at that point and dropped a fat hare at the side of the bed;

“Praise him” said War, “then he will always do it, for me and for you”

“That is good Fen, very good” he said

The wolf forced his way between them to be petted.  That was how it was, whenever there was a need for them to be alone, he, Rane, or War, commanded the wolf to hunt and he left them be, in time even learning to wait until he heard their cries.

Chapter Six

The weeks edged passed them and the full moon in September signalled a change, all felt it, the wind swung round and the air was cool.  Days were still warm enough but the nights were chilly and they didn’t mind Fen between them then!  They hunted almost daily, building up their stocks and improving their strategies; the two men and the wolf.

“It is time we moved” said War, “the chill will deepen now and by the next full moon it may even snow, we need to be ready and every day spent collecting wood will be well spent”

They closed the Summer camp and headed off to their Winter retreat.  Fen was excited and ran forward and back, eager to know where they were going.  The first few days were spent checking all the supports and the seams, well, the hunters did, Fen spent his whole time scouting about and making his den, at the back of the stones, in the farthest corner which was the driest and the warmest.  Sundry small repairs and adjustments were made and they judged the shelter ready then they started in earnest to collect wood and the last of the season’s bounty.

“How deep will the snow be?” asked Rane

“One year it lay above me” replied War with his hand stretched up above his head, “but often it is not too deep, but it will be cold, bitterly cold and when the snow thaws it is wet, everything gets wet…”

They sorted out the driest areas under and behind the stones, at least those they could reach and stuffed them full with their supplies.  War buried a cache of tubers and roots in the ground, quite deeply;

“For the spring” he said

“The last perhaps” said Rane, deliberately testing the reaction

“The last” came the reply, with no hint of any kind that War had changed his mind about leaving.

They hunted to dry and store as much meat as possible, especially as Fen needed to be fed too and he was still too young to hunt for himself or catch anything bigger than a rabbit.  The days began to shorten noticeably and the nights became cold and the fire needed to be banked, it simply proved that they could not collect enough wood.  Rane piled it on the small plateau outside the shelter, stacking it in a certain way and covering it with old hides;

“It will keep dry enough”.

October was dry, albeit cold but that didn’t bother them and War had new boots with fur socks and positively relished going out!

By the full moon it was cold during the day and the fire never went out.  War had walked with Fen towards the col while Rane had sorted more wood.  He returned;

“I smell the snow”

“You smell it?” Rane said quizzically

“Yes, by nightfall it will be snowing on the col”

“So early?”

“This Winter will be the hardest yet…”

And he was right, it did snow on the col that night and a few flakes tumbled down onto the roof of the shelter although it was dark by then and they didn’t see them, but they felt the chill and sensed the silence like it was a fur wrapped around them.  There were traces of snow on the col the following morning but none around the camp although it was wet.  The sun shone the brightest and warmest than it had for days and that was the last they saw of her for four months for the north winds pushed thick grey clouds across the sky during the night and it froze for the first time.  They were ready;

“We are two and ready, more ready than I have ever been and we will survive”.

The wind picked up and the supports of the shelter moved slightly, creaking, rattling and a loose hide flapped like a wing.  They secured it and fastened the second curtain across the entrance, a fur drape which had been Rane’s idea, copying the style of the huts he lived in at home.  If they’d had the time he would have double lined the roof.  The fire was banked and they crawled under their mountain of hides and furs with Fen to wait out the winter.

At first it was just cold and the threat of snow seemed to lessen and the clouds even began to lighten, or so they thought, there was time to collect more wood and even hunt but those few days were short lived and then the first proper snow came.  It started in the afternoon and didn’t abate for hours by when it lay to the depth of their knees.  The ritual began; the ritual of clearing the snow from the shelter’s roof and across the plateau to the path.  Their hands and feet were numb from cold despite the thick fur socks and Rane could not imagine stepping outside barefoot.  Their hide boots became sodden and barely dry before they needed to venture out again.  The first week was a true test of their preparations and of their bond; they came close to being angry, brought on by the wet boots and cold, but each evening they bolstered their spirits with hot food and laying close by the fire under their furs.  Fen retreated to his den when they wanted time alone.  At the end of the first week it thawed and then the real test came for everything was wet and the plateau became a huge slushy muddy bath.  The fire was banked constantly to dry their clothes and the stock of wood.  The wind swung to the east and it was a drying wind but bitterly cold and they barely left the shelter.  It was a time to think, to speak and to prepare for the journey in the spring.  Their industry before the winter was nothing compared to their efforts now.

The shortest day approached and in his home, Rane would have celebrated; there would have been a feast, music and dancing, noise and energy to banish the night and the cold and to reawaken the spirits of the day.  They beat the drum and sang songs.  They offered gifts of wood, earth, seeds, stone and a little of what was left of the honey.

It snowed the hardest War could remember and the snow was up to their shoulders and the roof groaned under the weight before they could get out to clear it.  It was the hardest time and for four weeks they were like ghosts, moving silently between their chores, barely speaking through exhaustion and each night they sank into slumber with just a mumble to each other.

It was the end of January and War fell sick.  It started with a cough, nothing serious and then it developed and he struggled to breathe for the mucus was thick on his chest.  He began to wane.  Rane administered every potion, poultice and salve he could think of or find and made thick, herb laden broths and infusions to fight the fever and the pains and the hacking cough;

“I will lose you if I do not do something” he thought as War lay by the fire, pale, hot with fever, drenched in sweat and mumbling;

He cleared a space as far as he could reach under the stones, evicting Fen from his den.  He moved War to the space and lit a special fire, laden with the freshest pine cones they had stored and specific herbs.  The smoke from the fire was dense and pungent and War had no choice but to breathe it in.  He coughed, retching to the depths of his stomach but it began to work to clear the mucus and he brought it up, easing his chest.  After a few days he began to pick up and his strength returned along with his appetite.  All this time Rane did the work of two and carried the additional load of looking after his companion.  The fever broke and War was through the worst.  The weather broke at the same time and by the full moon in February the sky did lighten and the sun made an appearance, pale and ghostly but it lifted them and both knew that they had come through.

It was a turning point; War would not have survived had it not been for Rane; he, War, had to let go of certain tasks whilst he regained his strength and Rane felt the weight of the responsibility and it rested well on his shoulders.

“There is still a threat of snow but I think the worst is over” said War, now up and about, still weak but strong enough to tend the fire.  There were light flurries but nothing heavy, it remained cold but dry and Rane ventured further afield to see what signs there were about.  Fen went with him, unleashed at last, seemingly happy to leave War behind; whilst he had lain sick the wolf had not left his side.

They brought back a scrawny fox from which they made a rich pudding with the blood and fat such as it was and nothing had tasted so good!

“When will we leave?” asked War

Rane turned to him, a little surprised still;

“As soon as we can move freely and the sooner we head south the warmer it will be and the hunting better…”

“I wish to spend a few days at the summer camp, leaving it ready, we may return one day…”

“Agreed, by the third full moon since the shortest day we should be on our way and by the fourth at the point on the path where we need to turn east and by the fifth at the starting point of the map; I do not know how long the journey to the mountains will take and I do not wish to arrive in the Winter; I am hoping the tribe at the meeting of the rivers can give us guidance…”

They examined the map again that night and Rane’s excitement was like the flames of the fire, dancing and bright.  War was anxious but he knew it was his best chance to leave; he would never have attempted it alone; even his desire to find his tribe had never been stronger than the fear.  Rane was still thoughtful for he knew at the turning of the path he would be one full moon from his home and perhaps answers to his questions; would his sojourn bring with it rewards, explanations, understanding and finally peace?  He was hopeful of a sign by the time they reached that point to help him to make a final decision.

Within a few days they made their preparations to leave the winter camp.  War dug up his roots and they feasted and gave thanks for their deliverance.  Everything they didn’t intend to take was wrapped and piled in the driest part of the stone shelter and they left, heading for the summer camp which they reached by the late afternoon of that day.  The shelter had suffered in the winter and was practically useless and they camped under the stars for the sky was clear, holding each other tightly against the chilly night.  Fen was banished for they had not released their seed for weeks.

They spared a day to repair the summer camp shelter and spent one more night there, the full moon bathed them in its silvery light and Fen glowed in the darkness, his fur shimmering like ice crystals in the full sun.

The following day they left and Rane purposefully held back a little, encouraging, tacitly, War to take the lead; he did and he strode confidently to the entrance to the valley.  He looked back just once and they heard a buzzard overhead; they looked up, it was circling and moving south along the river plain;

“We should push on and find a good place to camp tonight and I would like to eat fish again” War said

Rane smiled broadly;

“Lead on…”

Chapter Seven

It was easy country to travel and the river made navigation simple and they headed due south under clear skies.  By day they felt the growing heat in the sun and even bathed in the river albeit the water was ice cold.  By night it was chilly.  Two weeks into the first stage of the journey, having made good progress, they stayed for a few days at a good place and hunted.  Fen was much bigger now, something like six months old and beginning to explore further and bring down larger quarry by himself but he relished hunting with the men and naturally stayed at War’s side.  Rane would drive the quarry into their midst and nothing survived the spear or the jaws.

They saw no one and Rane knew that there was no settlement between the valley and his home still there was the chance they would happen across other hunters but they encountered no other human soul.

“We are not far” said Rane, looking ahead across the plain, “a few days and we shall have reached the path and we are early”

War felt no pangs, it had been almost three weeks since he had left the valley and although it wasn’t yet a distant memory, it felt much farther away and the sharp edges of his memory of certain things were beginning to blur.

Just before sunset two days later they reached the place where the path split; they stopped and camped.

“My home lays in that direction, one full moon from here…”

War understood the conflict, the emotions and his need for answers;

“If you wish to return, then go but I will return to the valley…”

Rane sat looking into the heart of the fire;

“My people, my family, have shunned me my whole life without cause or explanation”

“Do you think or hope that will change?”

“Hope, I don’t know; no one seemed to mourn my departure and I do not think it will be different if I return; I do not have the stone that I was journeying for, why should they welcome me…”

“Is there anything you have missed?”

Rane could not explain his feelings; it was like a pain once it had eased, there was a sense of loss for the feeling however bitter it might have been.

War counselled him neither one way nor the other and sat whilst Rane meditated on his choice.  The sun set in a bath of the deepest blood red light.

“I wonder if the star beneath the mountain is truly a star and the sea of flames truly a sea?” War asked

Rane opened his eyes and looked at him;

“Let us go and see for ourselves…”

The decision had been reached and within two days they turned east and took the path neither knew.

Chapter Eight

They needed to cross the river; it now lay between them and the path east.

It wasn’t deep, perhaps waist deep in the middle;

“We can carry everything across; it runs swift but the bed is sandy here and I do not fear to stumble”

In truth Rane was the least concerned because he could swim but War couldn’t.

“I will carry the packs across and Fen and then come back for you; I will support you”

War felt like a child again and perhaps embarrassed;

“You should teach me to swim” he said bravely

“I will, but not here; we’ll find a pool or a slower running stretch and I’ll teach you then; not the way I learned which was to fall in and either swim or drown”

Rane strode out and at the mid-point the water reached his waist but the pull was quite strong and he struggled to carry the packs and remain upright especially has he had the packs above his head; he made it; swimming back since he did not have the encumbrance of a pack and beating his limbs against the water was enjoyable and renewed some of the few good memories of his life in the tribe.  He carried Fen across for although he was sure the wolf would swim he was too small to make way against the flow; Rane returned for the final leg;

“Ready?”

“Yes; please don’t let me go”

“I won’t…”

They walked out side by side, Rane holding War’s arm, the level of the water crept up their legs and enveloped their lower half; they were halfway;

“Stand still” said Rane who moved forward and turned so he was facing War; he held out the other hand, “grasp my hand; when I say push forward and let your legs float up behind you; I will tow you across and you’ll float; then you only need kick your legs to propel yourself”

War looked frightened but leaving the valley was the bravest thing he could imagine; swimming should be child’s play;

“Push off and feel your legs float up behind you” Rane said as he moved backwards pulling War across

His speed kept War afloat and his legs trailed behind him just beneath the surface of the water; it was “fun” he thought to himself. They reached the shallower water and War stood up letting go of Rane’s hands;

“There is not too much else to master” said Rane

“It would be different if I knew I could not touch the bottom with my feet”

“Let’s hope there are no rivers that deep which we need to cross”

“Do we make camp here tonight?” asked War

“It is barely noon; but if you wish”

“I am a month and a day from my home of twelve years; a home I never imagined I would leave; this river which I would fear to cross by myself lies between me and the path home; I have reached the point of no return; I wish to camp here tonight”

“Then we shall camp” replied Rane feeling a little of the emotion but his eagerness to reach the start of the journey proper was forceful, he needlessly busied himself unpacking to make sure everything was dry and repacking to be ready as soon as the sun rose the following day; War sat and contemplated the river flowing in front of him; flowing ceaselessly unlike his twelve years in the valley, most of which had been held in a loose grip but a grip nevertheless. He slept alone that night leaving Fen to comfort Rane.

At sunrise he was ready and waiting for Rane;

“I am ready” he said

At the beginning the terrain was the same as the path they had trod since leaving the valley, flattish undulating grassy plains. Progress was swift but as they moved farther away from the river the landscape changed subtly; it rose gently but steadily. By Rane’s reckoning they had a journey of three, maybe four, weeks to the point on the map stick which was the start of the journey, a point marked by the joining of a tributary of the Oarke and the main river, a point also marked by a settlement. Beyond that point, due east, lay the plains, the hills and the mountain range; at the northern most edge of which lay the star and sea and if they were the right mountains the man encased in ice lay at the southern edge, for now their path lay due east.

They marched east for two weeks and nothing remarkable happened; the weather was kind; they had plenty of water and the broad plain attracted roaming herds so they had no lack of hunting and no lack of meat; on the second day of the third week since leaving the river they encountered their first obstacle, a river, not marked or remembered; it was a hundred paces wide and within two or three paces from the bank already deep enough for Rane to have to tread water;

“Let us light a fire and eat” he said, “this will demand more of us than I feel ready to give now”

War felt anxious but he knew that no journey as far as they planned to make could be without hurdles, in some respects he was more realistic than Rane but Rane had more confidence if not always the answers.

“How will we pass?” asked War as they ate

“There are two choices; we march north or south to find a shallower or narrower place to cross, or, we find a way to cross; have you ever seen a boat or a raft?”

“No”

“My tribe lives by the river, we use river craft but I was never schooled in their use but I saw how the simple kind are built; but we need wood and hide…”

“We are a day’s trek from the stand we passed…”

“Then do we agree to build a craft or do we march to find a safer crossing?”

War looked thoughtful; to him the river embodies everything life was; to march to find a safer crossing was to avoid life; he’d done that for twelve years;

“We cross here” he said

“Then best we get back to the stand”

They marched back and in that time Rane explained the construction of the raft he proposed to build;

“We shall need some quantity of wood and it will need to be cut and bound to form a platform; and we will need hide for the strips to bind the wood and to cover it to help keep everything dry”

“Let us hunt once we are upon the stand; the hide can be drying as we cut the wood”

Rane was impressed at how quickly his companion’s brain processed the problems and sought out easier or better ways to achieve their goal. They hunted and there was no lack of suitable quarry;

“Do we build the craft here and drag it back or drag the wood to the river and build it there; I’m sure we cannot carry all the wood in one trip…” War asked

“A day is lost each time we travel back and forth…this problem becomes wicked!”

“If we prepare the hide then we can perhaps drag the wood in the hide; the grass is short and will ease our burden even if we take two days to get back…”

That was what was agreed; they prepared the hide and started the arduous process of cutting the wood; felling them was easy; trimming them harder and it took all day from sun rise to sunset to have the lengths they needed;

“The raft does not need to be big; it will carry just our packs and Fen; once on the water we will hold the sides and kick to propel ourselves across; the river will carry us downstream but if we angle it right we’ll reach the opposing shore no more than one day’s march back to the crossing point and we shall have the raft again if we need it”

The following day they loaded the hide with the wood and dragged it a short distance; it did not tear as it was pulled across the short sweet grass and the few times the terrain became rougher they hoisted the bundle between them and carried it that distance; but War was right, it was slow going and in the end it was three days before everything was back at the original point and a fourth to build the raft; they sank exhausted but happy for the following day they could attempt the crossing and if all went well they would have used the week Rane suggested they had in hand; but the raft was built and much learning had occurred.

The fire was low for it was not cold and they lay together with Fen watching the embers die before sleep took over. They lay naked under a fur both on their sides looking out across the fire; Rane was behind War and Fen nuzzled into War’s chest his head tucked under his chin;

“I wonder what we shall find?” said War, more to himself, “sometimes a star falls from the sky although I never found a place where it struck the earth; perhaps the green star is that; one which fell and it caused a fire to start which never goes out”

“Why green?”

“I don’t know; who knows what they are made of”

There was another question on War’s mind;

“Rane; if something should happen tomorrow as we cross…”

“If one of us should die?”

“Yes…”

“I would continue to the village”

“That would be my plan too; beyond that I do not know”

Naming their greatest fear made it easier to sleep; both had thought it; the death of a friend would have been hard but neither knew the love of friends or the loss of one; they only knew love; their love; losing it seemed like it would be the worst pain imaginable now.

They slept soundly except that at an hour or so before dawn War was roused by Fen stirring and he opened his eyes, Fen had too; he saw five falling stars reflected in the wolf’s eyes as they passed overhead; stars falling to the land; east and north; once they had gone out he returned to his slumber but it was fitful and he rose early to bathe and get the fire going.

Chapter Nine

They packed and loaded the raft creating a nest in the centre for the wolf; it was no easy task to lower the raft into the water. Rane climbed in and War pushed it slowly towards him; the air was warm but the water was still cold and Rane was already shivering by the time the raft was lowered. War had to quickly enter the water himself for the raft was already being dragged by the current and Rane could barely hold it; as soon as War was in and holding tight they turned and pushed out starting to kick immediately. They gained one pace towards the opposite bank for twenty lost to the current but kicking was good to occupy uneasy minds and they made swift progress to the centre.

War was tiring a little and Rane sang a chanting a song to keep up the pace and the beat of their legs; what neither realised was that the river curved in a broad sweeping arc and suddenly the noise of the cascade reached their ears as they swept round the bend and then they saw the cloud of spray above it;

“Kick harder War!’ urged Rane the first to realise that at their present rate of progress they would be hurled over the falls, the initial fear gave them added energy and they moved towards the bank more quickly and it helped that the river slowed at this point but Rane estimated that they would be within fifty paces of the fall if all went to the good but all was not going to the good for War was labouring and he too was finding it hard to keep up the kicking; their legs were numb from the cold;

“We are almost there” he shouted

“I cannot continue”

“We must else we’ll be dashed against the rocks at the head of the falls and hurled like sticks”

What neither really knew was how best to exit the other side; both hoped the water would be shallower there and they and the craft would ground out before they needed to haul the raft out of the water; cold was beginning to numb senses and limbs alike, but they neared the bank but the water remained deep. There was a kind of cleft in the bank;

“War; we’ll jam the raft into the cleft; it should be enough to hold it whilst I climb out then I will pull you out”

The raft hit the bank and skewed but its progress was halted; Rane pulled himself out; a costly effort for he could not feel his legs and he could only use his arms at first; he was out but breathing very hard: he turned and grabbed the packs; dragging them to safety; Fen jumped; all that was left was War and the raft but he was exhausted and his grip was loosening on the vessel; just as Rane turned once more to pull him out the craft twisted in the water and the current carried it and War off;

“No” he screamed and with energy he did not know he possessed he got to his feet and ran along the bank chasing the raft which; in the more turbulent waters nears the edge of the falls slowed but bounced wildly; he skirted a tree whose branches leaned over the bank but round the other side he could see nothing;

“War!”

Nothing came back;

“He is smashed to pieces” he cried but it was Fen who saw that War and the raft were caught in some branches overhanging the water; he was crying and pawing at the edge but too afraid to go closer;

“War, hang on; I can reach you but you’ll have to let the raft go”

War slipped beneath the surface pinned by the raft and almost out of reach;

“I must get him out!”

Rane lowered himself again and holding on to one of the branches he reached out and down and felt the edge of War’s tunic; he grasped it and pulled and his companion’s head re-surfaced but his eyes were closed;

“I cannot lose him” he cried and with effort that caused every muscle and sinew in his body to scream he pulled the dead weight of War out further; he scrambled to get a foothold and just kept pulling until both were half on the bank; he allowed himself to rest for a moment and then he pulled as hard as he could; in one final contorted lunge he managed to get them on to the bank;

“He is not breathing and his skin is ice cold”

He’d seen this once at the village and knew roughly what to do; he pushed down in the middle of War’s chest to force the water out of his lungs; it spewed out drenching them both but the coughing started and the gasping so he knew War was alive but they would quickly perish if he did not light a fire: naked and freezing he found a fur and wrapped War in it whilst he tried to make a fire; his hands shook uncontrollably and he could not strike the stone; in exasperation he struck once more and the spark left the stone and landed in his nest of dry moss; the flame gave him hope;

“Please do not go out”

He had a fire and looked about him for stuff to build it with; there wasn’t much but it did for the start; he dragged War closer who was semi-conscious but still ice cold; when there was no risk the fire would die too quickly he wrapped himself and War in the fur and called for Fen; never more grateful for the wolf to come between them; heat spread out to his limbs and the sensation was painful;

“War; speak!”

There was a moaning and his skin was warming and colour started to seep back into his flesh. Once he had warmed he left War with Fen and put more wood on the fire and filled his pot with water to make the infusion;

“He must have something hot to drink”

The occupation deadened the shock of the near fatal incident and neither had heard the raft smash to pieces on the rocks and get hurled over the edge; calm returned slowly; the sun was high and warm and Rane was dry and he could feel his toes at last; once the infusion was ready he helped War to sip it;

“My throat burns”

“It is the water of the river; it invaded your lungs; I had to force it out”

“We crossed!”

They had. It took some hours before they felt strong enough to move about and make a proper camp;

“The raft is lost” said Rane

“Rather the raft than you or I”

“I nearly lost you”

“It was like death; the cold numbed my body and heart; I felt like I was sinking into blackness and then I was pierced by a ray of light and I heard you call…how far did we travel?”

“A day’s march I think”

“I shall be grateful for the walking; my legs are dead still”

“Rest War; tomorrow is soon enough or the day after”

They rested and assessed their condition; they had not come to any great harm and neither of their packs was lost; Fen was quieter but he wouldn’t leave War’s side;

“He has grown much attached to you”

“He is a protector; I’m sure if we had not saved him we would have fared less well today”

“I agree”

“Do you wish to hunt; I feel the need for fresh meat to put heat in my bones”

Rane never needed any encouragement and they hunted bringing down a young male stag; only once their bellies were full of the spit- roasted meat did they feel like themselves again;

“We are being tested” said War

“We have proved equal to the test so far”

“Let it be ever so”

Replete and tired they slept like logs.

The marched back up the river bank the following day and reached the crossing point by sun set;

“So far it carried us!” exclaimed War

“We have lost six days all told”

“I would lose sixty to be safe and sure of your arms around me this night”

“They are here and there is no need to ask for them”

“You saved my life”

“You saved mine once” replied Rane, rubbing the scar on his arm

“I should not choose to be with anyone else given a choice”

“I would choose you also”

Later they were basking in the glow of the flames again;

“How far to the village is it do you think?”

“Seven days; perhaps ten; we should still reach it by the time the moon is full”

“A village…”

“People…”

To Rane the village was life; like his own; hunting and gathering; everyone occupied with their business; feasting, music and dancing, storytelling; despite his ostracism he still longed for the warmth of the community; perhaps there he would find not the answers but a life nonetheless; he was a strong hunter; they would have mates looking for a man to bear children and ensure the health of the tribe; he could earn status; establish his own hearth; have children; a son.

War had less easy thoughts; strangers, alien things; questions he could not answer; above all he had a kind of fear that it would be his own tribe; in which case, how would he be received? If it was his own then he might find the answer to the question which had plagued him for twelve years; why was I abandoned?  He was never sure if he really wanted to know the answer or not.

These and sundry other thoughts occupied many days; the land did not change but rose steadily and then more steeply; just before sunset on the eighth day since they had left the river they reached the top of a rise and at the top they could see a broad flat plain; in the distance; at least a day’s march away they could see the light reflecting on the surface of two rivers and in the cleft of those rivers, the lights of fires; at least they thought they could; the village was close; it was occupied and all fears and hopes crystallised in that moment.

Neither spoke.

They camped and said prayers for their safe deliverance;

During the evening they sat and talked about the journey beyond the village during which Rane brought forth the stick; the one covered in the myriad of markings that suggested to him that the village here; at the joining of the rivers, was the start of the journey which the map stick displayed; they hoped to augment their knowledge of the terrain from the village;

“Do we show them the stick?” asked War

“No; at least, not straight away; we will ask for their guidance to the mountains and only show them the stick if it is absolutely necessary”

“And if they ask why we venture there?”

“To seek out your tribe; if these people prove not to be yours”

“That is my reason; what is yours?”

“To seek answers to questions; that is what I shall say”

“How do we approach the village?”

“With caution; when it is clear we have been seen then we should stop and lay down our weapons, to show we mean them no harm and then wait for the chief or elders to come out to us”

“What about Fen?”

“Have him in your arms; it will show them he is not dangerous”

Later they lay together; the desire to release their seed had waned since the river crossing; suppressed by fear and too many private thoughts; not tonight; they moved in unison; caressing each other; rubbing hands along strong limbs, touching cheeks, closed eyes, the buds of their chests, their manhoods, re-connecting themselves like before; War had grown more confident of late and he entered Rane first; his thrusting like the strong beat of a drum and his release was powerful; he held Rane long after he had subsided; Rane entered him as he lay on his side and moved more slowly but his release was none the less powerful and he cried out with it and was sure the tribe would hear it;

“Whether the opportunity arises or not; I think it best if we do not release our seed whilst we stay in the village” counselled Rane

“I agree; I wonder if we will be invited to stay and take a mate; it would be common practice would it not; to ensure the health of the tribe?”

“It is common place; my tribe follows that custom; but we do not wish to stay; if we return that way it might be different”

They held each other; certain of their choice but that had been made in the absence of any other.

The following day they strode together towards the village and late in the afternoon they reached it; they stood still some five hundred paces from the encampment; War picked up Fen and not too long after they heard a shout and then some of the villagers appeared; one came forth; a powerful man; not young or old; moving like a mature stag;

“Welcome; my name is Tranc; I am the chief of this tribe; my elders say no one has walked your path for at least fifteen moons; what brings you here?”

“My name is Rane; I am a hunter”

“My name is War; I am a hunter”

“Hunters are always welcome; I have many mouths to feed; come…”

They strode to the village in silence and entered the camp; the men of the village came forth whilst the women and the children kept back;

“This is Rane and War” said Tranc, “They are hunters; hunters, the village welcomes you”

“We are honoured to be received” said Rane using a phrase his own villagers used to greet a stranger and then he bent down and kissed the earth; a murmur of approval went through the group

“I offer prayers to the goddess for the safety of the village and its people” said War and he copied Rane and kissed the soil

“The wolf is a strange travelling companion?” said Tranc

“He is; we saved him as a pup after his mother was killed; he hunts with us and is a protector”

“He is welcome too but please keep him under your guard; no one has seen a wolf with a man like this”

“We seek respite for a few days” said Rane, “some questions we have and it would be our pleasure to hunt with you” he withdrew a soft pelt from one of the packs and presented it to the chief, “in honour of your gift of welcome”

The villagers rarely saw strangers and the formality of the greetings was not lost; indeed it was appreciated; the chief bade them to stay and as he dismissed everyone else he invited them to his hearth;

“Come and take a drink; are you hungry?”

“We ate on the road but one is never certain of the next meal; food and drink would be most welcome” said Rane

The chief’s mate, Role; prepared a drink and placed dried meat, berries and nuts on a platter for them all to share, “tell us of the journey” the chief said

Rane recounted his to the valley; his and War’s sojourn there and the trekking since; the chief was curious;

“War; how is it that you were left there by your people”

“I have no answer; it is what I seek”

“And you Rane?”

“I seek other answers to other questions; we journey to the northern most edge of the distant range; it is where War hopes to find his people; your knowledge of the terrain and easier paths would be most welcome”

“I’m sure we can offer assistance; how long do you plan to stay?”

“A handful of days” said Rane, “we must reach the range before the harsher weather comes”

“You will have need of speed then for I counsel it will take at least five full moons to reach the foothills; stay a while; hunt with us; join the feast tomorrow to celebrate the full moon; show us your skills and we will share ours; I’m sorry but the children will plague you…”

“That is of no matter; all are teachers and children alike; they might wish to see the wolf; he is young; a mere child; but already an able hunter; he will not hurt anyone”

“There is a hut for guests; Role will prepare it for you; if you wish to bathe the river will serve you; you will see the place where we enter; there are smooth stones; refresh yourselves; the eldest of us; my father; wishes to see you…”

The hunters commandeered the hut and went off to bathe; en route they saw the eldest man’s hut; he was sat in the doorway apparently asleep. They bathed and when they left the river they heard the rustle and giggling of the un-mated females who were spying on them; the noise retreated as they left the bank to walk back. They donned their clothes and approached the old man’s dwelling;

“Where are you coming from and where are you going?” the man said in a voice that was amazingly rich and powerful

“From the joining of the Oarke and the Roge to the northern range in seek of answers” said Rane

“You will die in the sea of flames” he cried pointing at War and then he slumped again

The chief joined them;

“Do not mind what the old man says; in his day he was seer and healer and foretold many things but for years now he has become lost in dreams and visions which we do not recognise or put store by; come to my hearth; the children want to hear your stories and meet the wolf…”

They went to the chief’s hearth and a small group of the villagers had assembled; War introduced Fen who relished the attention and Rane recounted the story of the journey, his accident, acting it out for the children’s benefit who gaped in wonder; in the end all the villagers save the old man came to greet them properly and food and drink was served. Admiration, lust and fear were like the flames burning in the hearth. War tired from the sudden influx of energy and the heightened noise so they bade the villagers goodnight and retired.

In the morning, War was first up and went in search of a fire to warm water for his infusion; the old man was sitting in the doorway of his hut apparently awake;

“Come here traveller” the old man said and War ventured a little nearer, “I know what you seek and you will find it…”

War approached and sat in front of the old man;

“You said I would die in the flames…”

“There are many kinds of death; do not fear it”

“I do not fear death”

From within the copious layers of hides wrapped around him the old man brought forth something which War could not see until the old man held it up; War gasped;

“Take it” the man said

The old man held out a thong from which was hanging a green rock, the size of War’s thumbnail, and it was embedded in a reddish crusty material. War held out his hand to receive it and the old man dropped it into his open palm;

“For years I wore this around my neck and it spoke of the future to me but then it fell silent; now I am plagued by half remembered dreams and visions; put it around your neck and never take it off”

War did as the old man bid and slipped the amulet under his tunic;

“Go and be safe on your path; honour your gift”

“I will father”

As War got up to leave the old man pulled aside the many folds of his hides and revealed his chest upon which as a beautiful tattoo; War prostrated himself in front of the old man for the tattoo was of a green star surrounded by a sea of red flames. The old man pulled his hides back around him and slumped; War crept away.

He said nothing to Rane and they busied themselves for the better part of the day sharing their skills; teaching the children how to tie better knots and the young men how to throw the spear as Rane did with the whip action; they hunted for the feast that night to celebrate the full moon.

There were stories and songs, dancing and chanting; food and drink and laughter and prayers. Two young women served the pair and kept their eyes lowered, the hunters were cordial but gave no sign they were ready to take mates. The chief gifted the pair new boots and they were gratefully received for theirs were no better than rags; Rane gave the chief’s mate Role the white pelt and War gifted his softest hide.

Late they feasted and as the fires died they went to bed.

The chief alone was out to say goodbye to them the following morning; Role had left food for their packs and he, the Chief, drew a map on bark just as Rane’s grandfather had done, showing the easier paths and the landmarks which would hopefully bring them safely to the foothills;

“Tread lightly and be safe” he said, “come back this way…”

“We will father; may the tribe grow strong from the meat of many hunts and the fires never die”

They left and some distance from the encampment they turned and waved for all the villagers were out and watching their departure;

“We’ll stop at noon” said War, “I have something to show you which the old man gave me”

“Did he say more than the foretelling of your death in the flames?”

“He said we would find what we seek and to have no fear”

“Then no fear I shall have”

They marched and the ground was easy to traverse; it would be many days before they reached the other side of the plain and the valley system. They had crossed the tributary at the bathing point using the stepping stones so now the rivers were behind them but they stretched out either side like arms disappearing into the distance.

They stopped to rest at noon and Rane asked;

“What did he give you?”

War withdrew the amulet and held it up for Rane to see;

“He said to never take it off and that is not all; he had a tattoo of the green star and the red sea on his chest; he said the amulet spoke to him of the future but fell silent years ago”

“Has the amulet spoken to you?”

“No, not as yet and I am doubtful but the tattoo was just like the picture on the stick”

Rane found the stick and they looked again;

“It is indeed mysterious; how did he come by the amulet?”

“He said nothing more and fell into trance or sleep”

“We are here” he said pointing to the place on the stick, “And if we are, then cautious we must be for these markings I am sure mean “wolves”…but first we must find the lake”

Two days they marched and two days nothing happened to test them, they saw barely a bird or heard even the wind; the words of the old man came back to War time after time; “you will die in the flames” but the man had said there were many kinds of death but he did not know what he meant and still the amulet was silent yet he did not know how it spoke; he presumed through dreams but for two nights his dreams were void.

Rane took confidence in the words that they found that which they sought; if he was honest he was a little envious that the old man had picked out War; had he not found the map stick?

The marched and the edge of the plain neared steadily; before the start of the valley system the plain was dissected from north to south by a gorge; on their left a cascade, three hundred vertical paces from the pool at the base to the top formed by two huge boulders that blocked the valley behind them; the water flowing over the shoulders of these two leviathans pooled at their feet and then flowed to the south cutting a gorge; which was not yet that deep but too wide to cross; their route was up the side of the cascade and round the lake behind them, the flooded valley; at the northern end of the valley was the only safe place to cross and then the start of a series of valleys, one after the after like ripples which took them to the foothills of the northern range.

“Do we climb before we camp or stop and climb tomorrow?” asked War

“Let us climb in the morning; it is steep and the light is failing; my legs are tired” replied Rane

They made camp and Fen immediately ran off which caused no alarm until he failed to return by sunset;

“Did he climb?”

“I didn’t see; it seems unlikely; he’ll see the fire”

They lit the fire and began preparing a meal from the last of the supplies given to them by Role supplemented by some of their own;

“We need to hunt soon; I’ve seen no tracks this last day; but I am hopeful that the lake will bring game to drink” said Rane, always thinking of the next hunt

They ate and sat quietly as the moon rose and wrapped them in her silver mantle; it was chilly so they huddled beneath a fur and watched the fire; still Fen did not reappear.

“What should we do?” asked Rane

“He is getting older and more confident; if the map shows wolves he may have smelled them and went to investigate…”

Despite the tranquillity of the evening there was an unease caused by Fen’s disappearance, a nagging doubt and a few questions; not least; if he found the pack was he welcomed, shunned or worse; he did not reappear that night and War did not sleep, Rane was fitful and both welcomed sunrise for the respite afforded by some activity; they broke camp and then began their ascent of the cascade; in places they could hold out their hands and touch the water; it roared as it fell like a mountain lion jumping down the hillside in pursuit of its quarry.

They climbed steadily for although it was steep there were plenty of hand and foot holds and in an hour or two they climbed over the lip and found the valley spread out in front of them; a shallow bank skirted the entire body of water but just beyond it the water was deep; only at the northern end was it possible to cross as the river flowed in, there the banks were less than two strides apart. They moved some two hundred paces into the valley and selected a space to camp near two or three small boulders, planning to hike to the end the following day and climb out the day after, but all hanged on Fen and still he was missing. They needed to hunt and Rane found tracks by the water a hundred paces further on.

He set up an ambush site wary of hunting in the cloaking forest for there was the danger of wolves.

He sat still and waited using “sound-sight” to “see” any approaching deer; they were someway off but moving to the drinking place; no sign of wolves but they could not be too far away. After an hour the herd moved out on the lake margin and moved to drink; all seemed nervous. He selected his target and cocked his bow ready to loosen an arrow; they all froze and like smoke the pack descended from the forest and moved out onto the margin; they stood between him and the deer which darted back but the pack did not follow them and they themselves drank at the lake.

Some little time after Fen appeared and Rane almost shouted out but stopped himself; he looked back to see War watching from behind the boulders. The cub padded to the edge of the lake, he looked more mature suddenly and confident but he was dwarfed by the adults; they were big mountain wolves, easily the size of mountain lions and just as strong. Fen must have sensed War was close else he caught his scent for he moved down the lake and to Rane’s and War’s utter horror, the pack followed.

Before Rane could decide if he should stay or move, War was by his side, standing and waiting for the pack to reach them;

“War” whispered Rane, “Are you mad?”

“Fen will protect us” he said in a normal tone, “stand up so he can see you”

Rane raised himself up very slowly and when Fen saw them both he broke out into a run, the pack followed suit;

“Do not panic or make any sudden movements” said War but Rane was transfixed by the sight of the pack advancing at a trot with Fen at its head; they were thirty paces away;

“Fen” called War

The pack advanced; Fen reached War and rubbed himself across War’s leg raising his head to have it rubbed; War rubbed his head and spoke to him gently; the pack was upon them but the wolves adopted a similar habit; rubbing themselves over the hunters’ legs and allowing and even demanding that the hunters touch them;

“We have been welcomed” said War, “and we are invited to hunt with them”

The pack turned towards the forest and moved off, Fen remained with the hunters, neither could speak but it mattered not, the wolves communicated without sound and all saw the same and followed the commands of the leader; they fanned out and with the three travellers bring up the rear they formed a loose circle around the herd that neither Rane or War could see; the circle tightened; the hunters followed the commands and then the assault was launched; Rane fitted an arrow to his bow and War readied the spear; seconds later a stag was hurling itself at them to break through the ranks; arrow and spear hit their mark and the stag dropped; the pack ripped through the herd and brought down two more; the gutting  of the stag by the hunters and the frenzy all around them filled the air with the stench of blood; only then did they realise that Fen had taken no part in the kill; he stood protectively behind them watching intently as wolves and men satiated their blood lust. Almost as if the sun had disappeared behind a cloud the shared vision ceased and the men were left alone with Fen; he corralled them and they move back down to the lake;

Rane was first to speak;

“How did you know that they meant us no harm?”

“I had a vision; barely seconds before the pack appeared by the edge of the lake; I saw it as clearly as normal sight; I knew he would protect us and we would be invited to hunt; before I could explain the shared vision was in my mind and I could not deny its authority…”

“I felt the same; a force compelling me to obey…”

“Fen is truly our protector; he will not stay with them but we need to leave soon; the accord he has reached with the pack leader will not last neither will our safety be assured”

“The old man’s gift is truly a wonder”

“Fen is the wonder here”

At the sound of his name he came over and they welcomed him back, the aura so apparent when he appeared with the pack had gone; he was again Fen; still the cub.

They rested for the experience had drained them, neither sure how they had moved so fast with the pack.

It took the rest of the day to recover, towards sunset Fen got restless;

“We must leave; it is the agreement he has made; we cannot remain on the lake beyond sunrise; we must hurry under the moonlight” said War

They broke the makeshift camp for they had not unpacked everything and headed off with Fen; the sun set and the moon rose and their way was bright enough, the moon travelled with them and Fen’s coat glowed around him, scintillating in the light of the moon; they moved swiftly and seemed not to tire; they spoke little;

“Have you seen any more of the future?” asked Rane

“Fen running with us; he is full grown”

The sky was lightening in the east as they approached the end of the lake and the crossing;

“We must hurry; we must be across before the sun appears over the ridge” urged War

They crossed by jumping the narrow gap between the two banks; Fen held back and just as the sun rose above the ridge the pack appeared; there was a moment of silent telepathy and then they howled; Fen turned and ran passed the hunters who turned and followed and it was many hundreds of paces beyond before they stopped;

“I must stop” cried War panting heavily

All three stopped and the hunters collapsed.

The Seeing Stone

Being part 2 of ‘The Map Stick’

By

Alp Mortal

Text Copyright© 2014 Alp Mortal

All Rights Reserved

Chapter One – The fox

They rested but for a short while; the sun was barely up and it felt good to be walking into her arms; they marched east, Fen between them; he had grown; there was a power in his shoulders and his coat was shining like ice, it hurt the eyes, as if the very crystals of ice were being dragged across the retina.

They were in the valley system, the valleys that cut across from north to south, smooth undulations before the lower foothills and the terrain was easy and grassy here. Fen slowed and lifted his head;

“I think he wants to hunt” offered Rane

“We have no need of meat”

“We should continue with his training; this terrain is unlike the valley; he needs the experience and we can dry the meat and leave a cache for our return”

They moved slowly, Fen stopped frequently but soon they could hear the sound too, a crack, like rocks being struck together;

“Ibex” offered Rane, “It’s the rutting season; they will be aggressive and unpredictable”

Not long after they saw the goats and they were many in number;

“Single one out” advised War, “Fen and I will skirt round and drive them this way; choose your dinner”

These were big mountain goats, Alpine Ibex with impressive horns that curved up and over their heads, as long as an arm and some longer than that. War told Fen what he wanted him to do and they moved off, War going one way and Fen the other, Rane stayed and knelt down with his bow cocked. As soon as Fen and War had got behind the group the scent of the wolf spooked them and they froze momentarily and then started to move, nervously and their pace quickened. Rane selected his target but it wasn’t easy to keep the male in his sights, the group closed ranks and it began to stampede. Rane realised that he was in their direct path and if he didn’t move quickly he was likely to be trampled to death but he didn’t move; the largest male came into his sights and he was transfixed, completely blind to the danger. He didn’t see the young male to his left, readying itself to charge him, driven by the hormone craze and the scent of wolf. Only when the young male crashed to the ground feet from him with a spear through its neck and Fen clamped around its throat did he come to his senses and recognise the danger.

Soon War was at his side;

“Are you mad?”

“No and unharmed thanks to you”

“Why didn’t you move?”

“I was waiting for the big male, I was sure I could bring him down”

“You put yourself in mortal danger for a pair of horns and for what, to wrap them in a white pelt…?”

The cub sat at their feet listening to War, aware that Rane was being reprimanded;

“I hope these ones are big enough for you”

“War, I didn’t…”

“Didn’t think…didn’t care”

Rane had no defence and he was incapable of admitting his mistakes and saying sorry;

“The old man said you would fail me in the end…I am beginning to understand…what is it you want? The amulet?”

Rane couldn’t answer, the revelation was like a fist in his throat; he looked away;

“You found the stick and think the amulet is yours by right; do you want future sight?”

He couldn’t speak; his emotions pinned him like arrows; he wanted to move away but he was rooted. War turned and headed back to the camp. Fen looked up into his face and saw the tears flowing down his cheeks;

“Fen!” called out War and the cub scampered off

At least an hour passed before Rane returned to the camp, both he and War looked more composed. War was sat by the fire sipping the herb infusion he used to clear his head;

“The water is hot”

“Thank you” Rane replied quietly

The words of the old man needed to be discussed but neither knew how to open the subject. In the end, Rane spoke;

“Did the old man say anything else?”

“No; he foretold my death in the flames and that my mate would fail me at the end”

“You know I will never fail you…I cannot lose you. I would not take a step further if it brought you nearer to harm”

“I must go on but if you wish to return to your village I will not stop you. I believe the answers to my questions will only be found at the end of this journey”

“I cannot go on if you expect me to fail you; I cannot live with that doubt in my mind”

“Perhaps like death, to fail has other meanings too”

“I need to think”

“Think well then; if you decide to continue then we hunt together, like we always did, with respect for our quarry, each other and ourselves”

Rane moved off to be by himself whilst War sat and contemplated the flames. Future sight had already told him what Rane would decide to do. He also wondered if seeing the future meant you couldn’t change it. The issue of doubt needed to be resolved;

“Fen, fetch Rane, we should eat”

Rane came back with the wolf;

“I wish to continue with the journey, together”

“I am glad”

“You are?”

“Truly; I do not believe that you will consciously fail me, you have risked your life for me. The visions of the future may change, perhaps they teach us things, guide us…the old man was plagued by half remembered visions and dreams; perhaps the warning was an echo of something long since passed”

Rane moved closer and both sensed the need to be close. They held each other and kissed away the dregs of the harsh words and the doubts that had plagued them. Fen ran off and quickly dropped out of sight. Before he returned he heard both cry out and only then did he run back. In his mouth a white fox cub, which was not dead although barely alive for the mother was dead, her leg broken, she’d starved herself to death giving up the last ounce of her energy to save the cub. Fen placed the cub, which was sleeping, between the hunters and the fire;

“I wonder that Fen didn’t kill it” ventured Rane

“Maybe he thought it was another wolf like himself; when it wakes, which surely won’t be long, I’ll try the honey”

When the fox cub woke up all were curious to see how it reacted. He looked about himself and then stumbled over to Rane, demanding to be picked up and when Rane did the cub nuzzled into his chest looking for a teat. He dipped his finger in the honey and held it out to the cub, which sniffed at first but soon after licked the sticky nectar from Rane’s finger, instantly demanding more. If Fen had been greedy then the fox was greedier still and cried more loudly! Eventually, hunger dispelled, the cub curled up in Rane’s arms;

“He is too young for the meat paste; he needs milk”

For a couple of hours Rane just held him and stroked the soft white fur, feeling the thrumming of the little heart. When it woke it didn’t cry out immediately but sat up and looked about, already displaying his keen senses, the eyes burned bright. The cub called for Fen who padded over to lick its face. The cub looked stronger already and definitely more lively. Rane feed him again and once pacified, but not yet tired, the cub investigated the camp with Fen a pace behind, who steered the little one away from the hot coals that it seemed especially eager to examine.

“He’ll need a name” said War

“He won’t grow so big but he’ll shine brightly, like the guiding star”

“What is that star called by your people?”

“Tara” replied Rane

“He is Tara”

“He is Tara but he will perish without milk”

“There are mouflon grazing on the new grass by the river; they will have milk”

“How should we get it; I don’t think a ewe will willingly give up her milk for a fox!”

“If she believes the fox to be a lamb she might”

Two experienced hunters and a wolf, surely the ewe didn’t stand a chance but it was three hours before they caught the mother and her lamb and brought them back to the camp where they tethered her; the lamb didn’t move away. Rane rubbed the fox cub against the lamb and when the lamb moved to feed they placed the cub beside it but he wasn’t tall enough and cried pitifully; the mother lay down and the cub dived onto a teat and sucked. Fen wasn’t going to be left out and lay down with them and all fed together;

“Do we take the ewe with us?” asked Rane

“No; we’ll stay until the cub is strong and can survive on the meat paste. There is something we need to find here before we leave”

“Have you seen something?”

“Yes, in future sight we are here, or near here, and you find something, a rock, it is special”

Chapter Two – The lynx

The temporary camp became their permanent home for the next month, but as the days passed Rane became worried;

“We lose valuable time War”

“We must stay and find the rock” was all he would say and it brought no real comfort.

The fox cub grew on its diet of milk and honey and soon it was eating the meat paste like Fen had at the start. Rane fed the cub; Fen was more independent and rarely looked to War to feed him, if he did it was to renew the bond than out of hunger. They all slept together and when Rane and War wanted privacy, Fen picked the cub up in his mouth and ran off. Not long after Tara began to bring back eggs;

“You’re a little thief!” chided War

Tara stayed close to Rane and it was War that realised that the cub was learning his hunting skills from him;

“I swear he begins to look like you”

They returned after a hunt to find strange prints around the camp;

“I say a lynx; no doubt attracted by the scents of our brood, we should hunt it; I do not wish to lose the ewe or the cubs to it; fortunate were we that we didn’t lose her today, maybe Fen’s scent counselled caution”

“The den site will be higher up, no?” War asked

“Most likely, tomorrow we will climb and hunt lynx”

Rane was a hunter, his worth, his value, if only to himself, was he prowess and the spoils he won; tusks, horns, hides and pelts; lynx teeth were more valuable than any white pelt. War hunted out of necessity; in truth he hated to kill any living thing; he wondered at the plants and the fruits which bore seeds that themselves grew into plants the following year; he watched the cycles and gazed at the moon and the stars, spellbound that, as he watched the stars, they moved across the sky and he knew the sun moved and supposed the stars were like the sun; smaller of course and very distant; he wondered if there was a place where you could reach them.

It was agreed that they would climb the following day. They hiked to the river to wash and Rane hoped to catch a fish; they trailed the ewe and her lamb so that they could feed on the fresh young grass.

“We must move soon War; the mountains are no nearer”

“Soon”

“We are putting great trust in these visions”

“They do not lie”

“What do they mean; why do you see these things?”

“Guidance is all I can say; like the vision at the lake; it told me we would be safe”

“Why is the rock special?”

“I do not know yet; but it is”

They bathed and fished and succeeded in pushing the thoughts of the journey away to enjoy the sunshine and watch the cubs at play. War was less anxious than he had been and he concluded that the amulet was the source of this confidence; its weight around his neck was reassuring.

They went back to the camp and found fresh prints and the meat rack had been plundered;

“She is hungry, she has a cub to feed” said War

“Have you seen her?”

“Not exactly; it is too dark, the place”

They cooked and fed the cubs and both ran off;

“Is it wise to let them run off?”

“I see them full grown running at our sides; no harm comes to them”

Rane’s view of the visions was different to War’s; he felt paralysed by them; they robbed him of choice though he was happy that the cubs came to no harm. It felt like the weight of the journey was getting heavy; a pack carried too far without rest;

“War; I need to be with you tonight like no other night I can remember; I feel my strength running away and I am lost”

“This journey is not just about the cave Rane; it has deeper meaning; you have questions, I have questions; when we see the cave it will be wondrous but it will not explain why your tribe shunned you or why your father left; do not ignore those questions; they are like poison which is not drawn from the wound”

Rane heard a different voice when War spoke like this, the voice of the old man.

The cubs had not returned but War was not afraid for them. The sky was clear; it was a week before the sixth full moon of the year; she rose; more white than silver, the white of bones bleached by the sun, a dull, hard white, not the scintillating white of Fen, but the white of the death pallor.

The hunters lay side by side; of late their couplings had been tense, there was still the need, still the choice but so much else felt like thorns in their sides;

“Rane; I cannot speak of love as you speak of love but if I understand love and if I recognise the feelings in my chest that are like a hundred chattering and fluttering birds then know that I love you”

“I have seen love; the gentle touches bestowed by a man or woman on their mate and I have heard love; the tender words, the songs, the laughter, the cries; but until I met you I had never felt love and if I recognise love, which in my chest is like the rapids and the thundering waterfall, then know that I love you”

For the longest time they held each other; just skin against skin, their heat like a cloak about their shoulders, their breaths fanning the flames that burned away all traces of doubt and worry. Rane moved first and kissed War on his lips and then his chest and then his stomach and then his manhood and he took the member in his mouth and it was like the most succulent parts of the kill, and he feasted. War writhed under the hot tongue, wishing for more, wishing for the mouth to engulf him wholly, devour his sex, willing to give himself up to feed the beast, willing to sacrifice himself for the seed.

His abandon fuelled Rane’s lust, he took what was offered and wanted more; War turned and demanded that he take it. There was no prelude, no foreplay, just the frenzied letting of this need. Rane thrust into him; a brand into the fire, opening the channel to feed the fire its oxygen, relishing the flames that engulfed his sex; and War craved the hunter’s knife, the plunging of it into his warm guts, the blood erupting over the hunter’s hand; wanting no mercy, wanting no restraint; they both died their little death and were resurrected.

They ended where they began, holding each other, the fires extinguished, the heat and light of the smouldering hearths eventually died to nothing and they slept.

The cubs returned at dawn.

Fen had blood around his muzzle;

“I can find no cuts, this is not his own; the fox is unharmed and his coat is not stained; it was not a fight” offered War

“We will climb today; maybe they found the den and pillaged a recent kill”

They took light packs and climbed. Due east of them there was a rocky slope; an escarpment; a step up into the foothills; in places it was steep and loose, occasionally it flattened out to form a terrace; higher still there were overhangs and sudden drops; they had to keep their wits about them; the cubs seemed to know the way;

“I have a feeling that the den site is near; perhaps up there where the path turns out of sight, between those boulders” said War

They climbed and then the smell hit them; rotting flesh;

“Do you smell it?” asked Rane

“Yes; go carefully”

They passed between the shoulder high boulders and found a crescent shaped terrace; to their left an overhang and a cave. Rane readied his bow and War had his spear drawn back. They advanced slowly and the smell grew stronger and almost over-powered them;

“I think it is the lynx” said War

“I agree; let us light a fire and drive the smoke into the cave; it will rid it of the flies; I hear them”

They lit a fire near the entrance and put green stuff on to make a thick smoke which they fanned into the cave; Fen became agitated;

“Fen!” cried War but Fen ran back and forth and then he darted in, “FEN…”

“We cannot go in after him, the smoke will choke us”

A minute later Fen ran out and in his mouth was a white lynx kitten;

“That explains why he was agitated; they found the site last night and maybe the mother was still alive then; perhaps the blood we found was hers”

Fen came to War and placed the kitten at his feet;

“It lives” he exclaimed as he picked it up

“Another white baby…do we wait for the smoke to clear?”

“She is dead, that is certain; we’ll come back”

With the kitten that was barely alive tucked inside the sling that they had originally made for Fen, they picked their way back to the camp and it took much longer than the climb for the slopes were treacherous going down.

Back at the camp they were met with more blood, the ewe lay dead, gutted and half eaten;

“We’ll have to move it; it will attract the hyenas”

Leaving the cubs and the kitten together they dragged the carcass as far as the river and pushed it in so that the current took it away; they stayed and washed the blood from their hands.

“Did you see these things in a vision?”

“I saw the birth of the kitten and it was different, it was as if I was seeing the kitten through the eyes of the mother and I felt her joy. These things are disconnected Rane; they do not always make sense at first; I see the birth of a cub or an eaglet, the death of the ewe, they do not linger in my mind and often the edges are dark and the light falls away like water over the cascade”

“These animals cannot have come to us by chance; you say Fen is protecting us; what of the others?”

“I see five shooting stars; they cross the sky together, like birds heading south”

“Perhaps they are Gods”

They went back to the camp to find the lynx kitten awake and crying; neither Fen nor Tara could pacify it so it must be hungry and a hungry baby is a healthy baby; fortunately the youngster was just old enough to accept the meat paste which War fed it.

“What do your people call the star that shoots across the sky?”

“Ciru”

“Then you are Ciru little one”

“You are Ciru” repeated Rane

“And I think we have a little girl”

“She will grow big but perhaps not as big as Fen; we shall need to hunt again”

“Soon they will be hunting for us”

The day had been exhausting in its way, the journey to the den site and back the least of it in so many ways;

“We have not found the stone War; do we stay longer?”

“Tomorrow we leave and go back the way of the den site; there is something there”

“What did you see?”

“Light; that is all I can say”

They busied themselves and played with the kitten; she was more curious than Tara and more playful than Fen, her teeth were already very sharp and Rane had scratches down both arms from her claws before they slumped into the pile of furs. None slept soundly, all dreamt and tossed and turned. At one point War woke up, just for a few seconds and Fen was lying awake by his side; he saw the five stars sail overhead, reflected in the wolf’s eyes; he slept easier then.

Dawn came and it was early; the longest day had arrived, the longest day and a full moon due that night; not in their lifetimes had they seen the event;

“My mother had seen it only once and my grandfather only twice; the moon will rise as the sun sets and there will be no darkness; my grandfather permitted no hunting on this day and many offerings were made”

“I feel something is about to happen; we must be at the cave at sunset”

“It is not that far”

“We will camp there tonight”

They packed and left their home of the last month. They had dug a pit and lined it with stones from the bed of the river and cached dried meat placed in hide bags, covered in dry grass and then earth, the surface piled with heavy stones;

“Who knows if we come this way again” said Rane as they headed off

“I do not think we will come this way again” was all War would say and all he said the entire morning and Rane thought he looked ill at ease or in pain. They made the cave before noon and stopped on the terrace; the kitten was agitated;

“She can smell her mother; we should clean the cave out; light a fire Rane and we will cleanse this place; the children will not settle until we do”

He’d said “children” and he didn’t know why; he felt more child than they.

Rane lit the fire and with a lighted brand they entered the cave and found the mother decomposing; attacked by lion or bear probably; it was a wonder the hyenas had not made off with her but the smell was rank. They dragged out the corpse and the rotting material from the den and burned it; Rane raked out the cave and they lit a separate fire inside; just of the green pine and beat a hasty retreat; cubs and kitten sat and watched; in the midday sun they resembled a ball of white hot fire; Rane had seen the lightning of a storm form a ball when he had been very young; for a long time he wondered if it had been that which had set him apart; touched by the Goddess herself, marked but instead of being revered he was shunned, so had it been ignorant fear and not loathing?

They rested and waited for the smoke to clear and the kitten seemed less agitated. The cave entrance faced west, a fact commented on by War;

“The setting sun will light up the cave” he had said

“Perhaps it is in the cave that we find the stone”

War was fidgeting; but unaware of it;

“War, what ails you, you are restless and look in pain”

“I cannot shake a feeling”

“Is it the amulet?”

War’s hand automatically found out the amulet

“There are times when I wish to take it off but I can’t; without it I would not see the future but there are visions I do not wish to see”

“Take it off”

War slipped off his shirt first; he itched all over his torso

“You are marked, it is marking you” exclaimed Rane

It was true, the amulet had marked his chest and it looked like a rash of sorts but fine lines were beginning to appear;

“It will be the same as the old man’s” War acknowledged

“Take off the amulet”

War’s hand went to it again but he couldn’t take it off, he was afraid to take it off despite seeing visions that haunted his sleep;

“Does it have that much power over you already?”

“I want to take it off but something is preventing it, something deep inside, it holds my arms at my sides; it cautions me but will not release me; it shows me things but I lose a part of my will in return”

Rane had to admit to himself that, however much he had desired the amulet in the past; he did not want it now;

“Then leave it War; it may do more harm to fight it…”

“I will rest; fighting it makes me tired”

And he lay down with the cubs and the kitten, asleep instantly, curled up like a child.

Rane sat and contemplated many things; rarely now did he sit and practise “sound-sight”; he had no need of the hunt but he practised it nonetheless and the effort to concentrate cleansed his mind like the smoke had cleansed the cave. He “saw” his companions and mate, four white hot embers in the depths of the fire. He saw the hyena and the bear and the lion, he saw the eagle and the herd of deer. In some way he was happier, he knew and understood his visions; they didn’t demand his will in exchange for their prizes, they did not fight him or make his arms powerless at his sides; his visions were invigorating, empowering, strengthening.

Words that War had spoken at the river came back to him; he had questions and they remained unanswered, the journey was in part the path of understanding, a path to enlightenment, peace in his soul is how he described it to himself. He knew his weakness lay in his vanity but that was due to being shut out of the brotherhood of hunters within his tribe; denied his place he comforted himself by going for and often winning the best meat and the softest pelt, but for what; it won him no friends and the glory was hollow.

He knew he loved War; it was like his sound-sight, the feeling took on the colour of a form and he could taste its very essence; right then he promised himself he would work harder to honour it; for years he had craved love and none had been given; now it was freely given and he didn’t feel worthy of it if he was honest.

A slight chill woke them all and a peacefulness descended for the first time on their fire in so many days; the cubs and the kitten played at their feet, contentedly and confidently.

“The sun is beginning to shine in to the cave Rane; should we investigate?”

They went in together; the smell of the lynx banished by the smudging. The light came in at the top edge of the entrance and the shadow that was drawn on the floor inched slowly back, the beam widened as the sun sank lower but still the back of the cave was in darkness.

“I sense something” said War quietly

The light was almost at the foot of the wall and at the very base of the wall, in the angle of the floor and the wall they saw the stone, it was so unlike any stone they had seen before;

“Is that the stone you have seen in the vision War?”

“Yes; it is the same stone”

The stone was green, a darkish, waxy green. It was oddly shaped, some of the faces were rough and sharp and others were smooth and nodular. Rane stepped forward and bent down to pick it up; as he returned to War to show him the stone more closely War cried out and pointed at the place where the stone had sat, above it, on the cave wall, was a line, at first only one, a red line, a curved line like the curve of a flame; they watched spellbound as the light crept up the wall and revealed the rest;

“It is the same as the picture on the stick and the same as the old man’s tattoo”

It was, even before the light fully invaded the cave they could see the picture drawn on the wall and it was plain, the green star and the red sea of flames;

“Is it painted or drawn?” asked Rane, he had seen the paintings in the caves, the ones his grandfather had taken him to. They stepped forward. The picture lived within the stone; they rubbed at it but nothing came away;

“I think the amulet is made from this stone” ventured Rane

“I know it now”

Before Rane could ask him what he meant, War had stepped forward and hugged the wall, arms stretched out wide, the amulet pressed against the surface of the wall, seconds later he fell back and Rane caught him; the tattoo on his chest was complete, just like the old man’s.

“We must leave” shouted War in a whisper

“Now?”

“Yes, we travel under the moon’s light, our way will be shown”

They staggered out into the bright sunlight and if the picture on the wall or the tattoo had not been wondrous enough then the sight of the cubs and the kitten prostrated at the feet of a white fawn was no less so;

“It is the Goddess” cried Rane and he prostrated himself in front of the fawn that stood waiting

“Rane, come, we have to leave; it will not be safe here tonight”

They broke the camp and edged around the narrow terrace to gain the slope beyond it that took them higher for a time and then the ground levelled. War called a halt;

“Please…stop for a moment”

They halted and looked upon him;

“What is wrong?” asked Rane

They heard the rumble and then the tearing as the rocks split from the face of the cliff and all knew that the overhang had collapsed and the cave was buried;

“Did you see it?”

“I saw the flames flickering up between the cracks in the rock, like the earth was eating itself, gutting itself and feasting on its own innards”

They sat and composed themselves, the light was failing a little but the coats of the animals seemed brighter, like the light reflected off the snow fields softened by the mist of the dawn;

“War, do we leave here?”

“Yes; follow the fawn, she knows the path in the twilight; we will be safe”

The fawn stepped forward confidently, looking back only once.

Chapter Three – The fawn

The way was loose as they headed up; when they hit the ridge the sight was breath-taking, astounding in its beauty, in its majesty.

From the river plain they had proceeded east to the very beginning of the foothills, an undulating surface, gentle and grassy, where they had camped for the month whilst the fox cub had grown strong enough to survive. Those gentle waves of earth clad in green had given way to the foothills, where the goats, the Ibex, had been fighting for mates; further and higher the way became looser, new formed valleys not yet cloaked in the dense vegetation that War was used to in his home valley. They were still in these foothills but climbing up to the knees of the Northern Range, the southern-most edge of that range, the range, which if they followed north, would bring them to the mountain under which was the cavern that held the star and the fire, if the map could be trusted, and they did now, more than ever before.

The terrace which stood outside of the cave skirted around the end of one of the arms of a valley, a shelf on the south facing scarp slope. They now stood looking north, across a landscape that appeared almost human, not rock. The system that took them higher onto the knees of the range looked like two hands laid flat, the fingers interwoven and in the lap of the range a head, a face turned to one side which lay sleeping; both could see it;

“Is it the Goddess herself, resting after her labours?” ventured War

“She is peaceful; let us hope her dreams are not disturbed”

The fawn was eager to continue, War had seen them marching in the moonlight, the animals shining like firebrands.

They continued, following the fawn which picked a very careful path, but always heading up, however slight the incline, always up.

“What in your tongue is the name given to the Goddess dressed as the setting sun?” asked War

“We call her ‘Soma’…”

“The fawn is ‘Soma’…”

“The fawn is ‘Soma’…”

“You are Soma” they repeated together

They walked for a few hours before they rested and the fawn didn’t seem to mind, the moon was getting higher now, the sun had set an hour before.

“You say you saw five shooting stars” Rane said

“Yes, five, like birds in formation flying south for the winter”

“We have four now”

“The fifth is not too far away”

“The eaglet you mentioned”

“The chick is white but I am guessing the eyrie is way up there” replied War pointing to the top of the “head” they saw in the landscape;

“Protectors”

“We will need them”

“What have you seen?”

“I cannot tell you because I do not know the words”

“Nameless fears”

“Perhaps some of the visions are that, not real, just fear and I am afraid at times; our journey rests on the edge of a knife and time will become our enemy”

“We waited a full month for the cub to mature”

“We had no choice and we had to find the stone”

“We have not looked at the stick since before we encountered the wolves; when we next make camp I want us to look upon it”

“Rane, draw your bow” and the words were spoken quickly and Rane knew that War had seen something

They were on a slope which was not too steep and at the head of the slope it promised to level out for a while; they were sat half way up, loosely scattered. Upon hearing War’s words the animals had moved and formed a circle around them;

“War, what is it?”

“Hyena…”

Many feared the hyena more than any other beast, they were gruesome to behold, and the shoulder of a full grown male would easily be above the waist of a tall man. They dripped death from their jaws and their breath was fetid. The slinking way in which they moved made them appear un-natural;

“Remain still”

The space between the animals seemed to Rane to be filling with light, it crept like fog and it became thick; to his mind it was like the lights that were sometimes seen in the northern sky, light that moved like water, light playing on the water. The circle of light grew taller and was above their heads as they crouched and it appeared to Rane that the Hyena did not see it, did not see them but for all that it moved down the slope, perhaps the light did not mask their scents and it drew closer;

“You have one chance Rane; hit it squarely in the chest”

The instruction coincided with the animal raising its head, perhaps it heard War’s whisper, and the chest was fully exposed; Rane let the arrow fly and it hit the hyena dead centre with a “thump”; it did not even yelp as it fell. The light began to fade, sinking back like a dying flame in the fire and then it was gone and only the moonlight remained, like an echo;

“I do not believe it; it couldn’t see us or the light…”

“They truly are our protectors…we should go, the carcass will attract others”

Rane retrieved his arrow and caught up with War.

“We will stop at dawn Rane”

“I hardly need sleep; reality becomes dream”

“There are nightmares ahead, the light appears to blind those outside the circle but did you see that it still caught our scent; it was curious, and unafraid, and still moved towards us; I wonder what would have happened if it had moved into the circle, would it have then seen us?”

“Should we fear anything now?”

“I would not pack your bow nor I the spear”

They continued walking, with the fawn at the head of the group, and she took them higher and higher. Just before dawn she stopped, they had reached a kind of causeway or bridge; a great pile of loose material filled the void between the two arms of a valley but the pile fell away sharply on either side creating a narrow path that stretched from one side of the valley to the other;

“Is it safe?” asked Rane

“Whether it is or not I cannot take another step; let us make camp here”

They made camp and for the first time they saw the fawn in the full glare of daylight.

She was young but unafraid which gave her a knowing air and the other animals seemed to defer to her which only confirmed she was the Goddess in Rane’s mind. She was white like the rest, pure white but the hide did not reflect the light like the fur or the hair of the others and her white was the white of milk, a flatter white, easier on the eye in full sun.

Now that they had stopped she appeared curious and came to the men, putting her head under their hands so that they had no choice but to rub the space between her ears which they guessed she wanted and it forged a bond with them but unlike the others she did not need as much attention.

“Let us look at the map stick War”

War retrieved the stick from their packs and unfolded the hide within which it was wrapped; even though they had looked at it many times it still held their gaze, filled their eyes with wonder and small details always appeared that they swore were not there before;

“You see, there is the lake and the sign we took to mean “wolves” and that was right, the pasture and the mouflon, the toes of the foothills, the cave; you see now that it has the image beside it and it surely didn’t before” asserted Rane

“I agree; details emerge, there is the shelf and this has been our route since we met the fawn”

“This causeway in front of us is not marked”

“Perhaps it was created after the stick was carved” ventured War

“How? The rocks are too heavy for a man to have lifted or a hundred men”

“Then it might be like the cave, it holds a secret but we should be cautious”

“When do we start out?”

“Let us eat and rest for a short while; we will need to hunt soon, thankfully the fawn does not need meat!”

It was as if the animals could understand everything they said and they ran off, except for the fawn;

“The shaft of the arrow and the spear will rot if they hunt for us!”

They looked more closely at the map stick, beyond the causeway, and there seemed to be a path that led up to the “head” they fancied they saw resting on gigantic hands in the landscape;

“What is that black circle do you think?” asked War

‘A cave or a chasm?”

War reflected for a moment;

“We draw closer to the range and I fear the going will be slow, time bites at our backs like a blast of cold air”

“We have come this far, I feel stronger, perhaps the fawn will show us easier paths”

“I think our paths get more difficult Rane; and our choices”

“But we still plan to find the cavern?”

“Yes, we have no choice there”

The three hunters came back, Fen with a pine martin in his jaws, Tara an egg and Ciru a vole;

“Not much meat” complained Rane

“I am not hungry”

They did not plan to stay and before the sun was directly overhead they began to move off;

“Let the fawn lead, place your feet where she places hers” advised War

In places the path was barely wide enough for one to pass and even where it was wide enough to walk abreast they kept to a single-file. They concluded that some massive rock fall must have created the causeway. They were halfway; maybe through lack of concentration or just bad luck Rane stumbled and went down onto his hands and knees;

“Rane, do not move”

“What is it?”

Rane was on his hands and knees, his head raised, looking forward, War just ahead of him, partly turned, the fawn in front and the other three animals were between the men;

“Something shifts, a fault gives way”

“What can you see?”

The body of rocks began to move, Rane could feel the tremors; they travelled up his arms and thighs, it was like being on the raft again;

“War, what do I do?” he shouted

Holes and shafts began to appear and then without warning the entire causeway just ahead of him, and he was merely a stride from the others, gave way and collapsed in on itself; instinctively he thrust his hand forward but grabbed only air;

“WAR!”

His cry was lost in the cacophony of sliding and grinding stone and a huge cloud of dust was raised and in the end he had to bury his head under his arms or risk choking to death and the air was full of minute, flying shards of stone that pricked him like needles.

Chapter Four – Rane’s Desolation

He held his breath and just waited for the cloud of destruction to pass over him. In any event, he did not want to open his eyes and see the gulf ahead where seconds before War and the animals had stood; his mate and their protectors now gone, dead, buried under a mountain of rock and he left alone in the wilderness with nothing, though not nothing, for he had his pack on his back. In the end it was the pain of lying on the rocks that forced him to move and to do that he had to open his eyes, when he did he almost clenched them tight shut again for barely a stride ahead the causeway was gone; he inched forward, breathing through the stuttering sobs until he was at the edge.

When they had started out the level of the causeway had been roughly the same height as the top of the valley, now, his portion was still level with the top but the portion that had collapsed was two thirds its original height, the heart of the causeway had collapsed, pushing material out from the sides in both directions, flattening it, the drop between his position and the top of the rocks beneath him was greater than the height of the cascade that they had climbed to reach the lake. The air was still too full of dust to see anything clearly but he was sure he would have seen the white forms of the animals if they had survived the fall and had not been buried alive. There was nothing save the dull grey of the rock and the black spaces between the larger rocks looked like splattered blood.

Instinct pushed him up and to his feet and despite the tears and the sobs that burst through his lips he stumbled back to the safety of the ridge where he threw himself down and cried, cries that sucked the breath from his lungs and made him choke; in the end, exhausted from grief, he just lay still, in a waking death, since everything he loved had been taken from him.

The sun was dropping behind the ridge and the relative but sudden coolness stirred him into action; not that he did not break down with sobs frequently but he managed to light a fire;

“They may see the light” he said to himself

He had been used to being by himself before he’d met War; he had not spent a night away from him since that day, more than a year ago, how quickly the loneliness is forgotten and how quickly it returns, colder and deeper for its absence.

He sat, a hide around his shoulders, his back to the rock, the fire in front of him, his knees drawn up to his chest and his arms wrapped around them, one hand locked on the wrist of the other, his head bowed, eyes closed. His thoughts were like the flames of the fire, quick, hot tongues of consciousness that flickered across his mind’s eye and then disappeared into the void. His disbelief the hearth of that fire for all his thoughts were prefaced “it cannot be”.

Night fell and he sensed it but didn’t open his eyes, the blackness inside his mind, occasionally traversed by the red tongue of a remembered word or look, more comforting than the real desolation that lay before him.

Images came to him like stars appearing in the night sky. The first was War as he had seen him for the first time, crouching with his spear pointing at his heart; their first meeting full of curiosity and a little fear. The second, the trip to the pool to bathe and how unabashed War had stripped off and dived in and when he had stepped away from the falls after washing under the cascade the water had flowed off his body in scintillating showers of light. The third was of War’s manhood, as they lay side by side drying on the stone and despite his grief it stirred him and he realised how beautiful War really was. He remembered how War had bathed him, after the fever had broken and War had complained that he stank.

So many images came, so many feelings; then he heard a noise, something was investigating the fire no doubt, he sat motionless and let it pass but it had broken his reverie and bitter reality filled his head; alone in the wilderness, a quest for answers to questions he didn’t think he cared about anymore; what did he do now?

Some words plagued him;

“I see Fen running beside us, full grown”

One of War’s first visions after putting on the amulet and then he thought about it;

“He saw Fen running beside us full grown; so we survive this but how?” he said to himself, “All of the visions have spoken true, then what shall I do, where shall I go, how will I find them?

He looked out and light was creeping into the east and he realised how long he must have sat;

“I will follow the path”

He had his pack, spear and bow, the map stick was wrapped in its hide at the bottom of the bag and he had a little meat. The first decision, “how shall I go?” he had to cross the valley, one way or another; garnering himself he walked out across the causeway to the point where it had collapsed; the edge was steep, almost sheer, but the tumble of rocks created steps down. He used the end of the spear and tested the first rock “step”, it appeared to be solid, he stepped down, and again he used the spear and found a solid foothold.

“Perhaps these are steps to the floor of the valley” he said

Lower he went, within an hour or two he was half way down

“But surely they are buried beneath the rocks, but if they are then the vision can’t be true and all have been true; what of the light that blinded the hyena, perhaps it saved them”

He kept pace with the sun and never descended below the level of the light as she rose and he kept out of the shadows which still looked like blood splattered on the stones. If a man needed a sign that something had survived then Rane needed a sign and he found one, War’s pouch, the one he kept the herbs in that he used to make the infusion. He picked it up and held it to his face, at once smelling the herbs and they cleared his head;

“Oh joy”

He continued to descend but found no more signs but finding the pouch gave him hope. By noon when the sun was directly overhead he had reached the lowest point and then his heart stopped momentarily for he saw blood, spots of it, sprinkled over two stones;

“Not much and I cannot believe they fell so far and no harm came to them”

He was now at the lowest point and the jumble of rocks that stretched out from his feet to the side of the valley opposite looked like interlocking teeth, crooked and broken teeth;

“It is as if the land opened its jaws and swallowed them”

His attention was grabbed by the sound of an eagle overhead, far away above him but he heard the call;

“If he survived he will make for the eyrie, it is where the last protector will be found”

He brought out the stick and checked his position; this valley was the last of the valleys between the fingers of the sleeping giant; its gigantic head laid down in repose was ahead; the strange black circle, which they had thought was perhaps a chasm, looked like the pupil of one of the giant’s eyes;

“I need to climb, to the eyrie; that is where we shall be reunited and if not I will find the chick and then I hope the path looks more certain”

In truth he did not want to look upon the sea of flames and the star without War by his side. War had the amulet and had been marked by it but he had the stick and the strange green stone;

“All must be brought together else none of it will make sense”

He debated whether he should climb up the valley then or wait for the following day; it was just passed noon. He walked to the end of the lower causeway, stepping warily over the larger gaps between the “teeth”, certain that they hid a cavern or system of caves into which War and the animals had fallen and if they were hiding such a place then perhaps War would follow it to the black circle, perhaps it was another entrance.

All this gave him energy and when he reached the side he found steps up, solid foot and hand holds but the way was less easy and often the foothold or the handhold was barely the width of his aching toes and numb fingers; numb through cuts and bruises; he noticed not the blood.

Chapter Five – War’s descent

War had seen the collapse seconds before it had happened; he’d had barely the time to issue the warning to Rane. As the rocks collapsed beneath his feet he fell forward, instinctively, and had gripped the edge of the rock upon which they had all, bar Rane, been standing; it slid down like a raft and he saw the river raft in his mind’s eye and briefly smiled before he remembered the cold black shadow of death which had tried to drag him down then as the raft had thrown him off.

They slid but is was far from a smooth ride and at one point the rock’s fall was arrested and it turned and now he was facing down; he was flat against the rock holding its edge and his legs were splayed out behind him and he could feel at least one of the animals jammed between his legs, maybe two. There came a point when the rock was halted suddenly and he, they, were thrown forward, with nothing to stop them from being hurled headlong into the abyss. As they passed between the teeth of those gargantuan jaws he caught his heel on some protrusion, the pain was like a lightning strike. The jaws clamped shut above them and with that the light was gone; they fell and all the while he anticipated the sickening crunch as they landed but there was no landing, they kept falling and without light there was no sense of time or space or speed; there was no sound and he wondered if he wasn’t already dead.

This great fissure into which they had been thrown seemingly had no end and then he felt the heat, great waves of heat. Not heat like the sun, not a constant heat, or the heat of a fire; he imagined the land blowing warm breath into its hands to combat the cold, and he remembered the winters in the shelter back in the valley, huddled by the fire, blowing warm breath into his own hands wishing he could reach his toes that were numb and blue. He still felt that they were descending but also riding the wave of heat, like leaves held on a current of air; he’d seen leaves carried from one side of the valley to the other, dust caught up in huge spirals that reached high above the ridge.

Still no light, just heat, falling, riding and then a change, he sensed more than one source of heat, hot breaths coming from beneath him and ahead, the current carrying them, if that was what it was. They hit something, a wall of heat rising straight up like a column and they twisted and turned, spinning like leaves, like seed pods. He struggled to suck the breath he needed into his lungs and it was hot and scaled his throat and he could smell singed hair, which told him he was probably alive.

Then nothing, a black hole in the black sky, no thoughts, no dream, vision or nightmare, no feeling, no sound.

Drip…drip…drip

He recognised the sound; it reminded him of the long months sat in the shelter at the winter camp. He sensed that his eyes were closed and very slowly he opened them. At first it made no difference; there was just black; black punctuated by the drip…drip…drip. He connected with his limbs, not moving, just feeling; there was no pain anywhere except in his foot; the pain was no worse than the discomfort from having taken the skin off a blister, a rawness that was all.

He could feel the pain in his foot; he could hear the drip of the water and then some different noises to his right, scratching, loose material being moved and finally a “meowing”;

The kitten!

Black turned to red, briefly, then back to black then to red and only when he recalled sitting in the shelter did he understand; there was fire somewhere and it was casting its light as the flames flared and then as the flames died it threw everything back into shadow. For hours he’d sat in the shelter and watched the fire dance, the light pulsing as flames were born, lived and then died.

He stretched a hand out, he couldn’t tell if he was seated or lying down; he was on his side. He moved his hand, the ground under his fingers was loose, sharp as if the surface was covered with spear and arrow tips or the fragments napped from the edge of the flint and then he felt a soft, warm, furry body and it responded to his touch;

“We survive…”

The kitten moved closer, burrowing into his chest, looking for a teat, looking for reassurance. He curled his arm and hand to draw the kitten closer and its head connected with his chin and a tongue touched his face and the “meowing” became louder;

“I have nothing for us to eat little one…be happy you are just hungry”

It was time to take stock and if the kitten had survived, had the others and where were they;

“Fen” he called, not too loudly, “Tara…”

Nothing. He righted himself and sat up, keeping hold of Ciru but then she darted off.

“Ciru…”

He wasn’t sure why he had shouted the kitten’s name in a whisper; it was as if he knew he shouldn’t be here.

He became aware of the pack still strapped to his back and his joy was deeper than the cavern; he shrugged it off and in the pulses of light he rummaged and found one water skin, half full; he drained it into his mouth;

“Soma…Fen…Tara…Ciru…” but there was no response

From the point in time at which the causeway had collapsed until he woke to the drip of the water he hadn’t “seen” the animals; he had been aware that as they had skidded down towards the gaping mouth of the abyss one or two of them had jammed themselves between his legs, probably Tara and Ciru being the smallest. In many ways he couldn’t imagine how the fawn would have survived, she was slightly built, her legs like sticks; there was nothing robust about her. He could only imagine her smashed against some rocks; her blood drying on her milk white hide, her eyes wide open and her tongue hanging from the side of her mouth;

“No! That is not how it is” he shouted

The image had become too real and now he realised he couldn’t differentiate between real sight, his imaginings and the visions; they were as one.

The pulses of light had grown steadily stronger; there seemed to be a cycle, they grew stronger and then weaker; in the strengthening light he could see more and it was beyond sight, imagination and vision.

He was sat on a wide ledge and he could not see the back wall, it was just shadow. In front he could see more, it was clear that he was in a cavern, a vast cavern, larger than his home valley. Feeling curious he edged forward, on his hands and knees, until he approached the edge, already he could feel the heat rising, the hot breath being exhaled by this subterranean beast. He lay flat and squirmed forward until he could see over the edge; almost immediately he pulled back for the drop was sheer and his head swirled for a moment. He tried again;

“What is that?” he asked himself for at the bottom of this valley, which was also much deeper than his own, he could see a red snake; he had never seen molten lava so he assumed it was a snake, it moved. Mesmerised he watched and then he realised that if it was a snake then it must be longer than the valley, longer than the river, there was no end to it;

“It cannot be a snake else its body should be wrapped around everything”

The snake answered his question when a huge plume of fire jumped from the surface and the heat from that explosion singed his eye lashes

“Fire! A moving river of fire; that is what heats the air, the currents of air upon which I was carried to this place”

With the explosion had come the sudden increase in the light and he saw that the valley stretched beyond his sight in both directions.

An image flashed across his mind; an image of the animals standing in a cool, wet place waiting for him, unharmed and unafraid; once the image had gone he investigated the back of the ledge; he crawled forward across the shards and entered the shadow where none of the light of the fire pierced and almost immediately it was cooler and he smelled something damp, like the green slimy stuff that grew sometimes around the spring pool and filled the pool when it had been very hot. There came a point when he crossed a threshold and the ground under his hands changed from the loose shards to a something smooth, damp and smooth, like the skin of the fish that Rane had caught him that day he had ventured out of the valley for the first time;

“Rane…”

His mind flashed back to the last thing he had seen as he’d fallen, the face of Rane, his mate, and he had been shouting his name.

War began to stand up but he stretched out his arms to feel for the edges of the space; when he was on his feet he felt the pain again, in his right foot, centred on his heel and the covering must have been ripped off because he could feel the cold surface under his foot, but just that one, the other was still booted. He stood upright and even with arms stretched up as high as he could reach he could not touch anything;

“I cannot just go running off into the black; where is Ciru? She must have gone this way”

He had lost the spear so he could not use that to test the way ahead. He crawled, never sure in what direction he was heading, except for a time he was sure he was heading away from the ledge, as for a while he could see the outline of the edge of the tunnel that exited onto the ledge but then even that was sucked into the void. Very slowly he proceeded and probably due to the fact that he was crawling the amulet worked itself free of his shirt and then swung on its thong; he grasped it to push it back inside his shirt but as he touched it an explosion of light filled his mind and for a brief moment, whilst he had hold of it, he could see everything around him; but he’d dropped it and then everything was black again.

“A stone that sees?”

He touched the amulet again and the light exploded in his head and with it the gift of sight but it was too intense, too bright, like looking into the full Sun. In those two brief moments in which he had held the amulet it showed him that he was in a tunnel, a vast pipe.

“At least I can stand without cracking my head; but how can I use this new sight?”

The answer came to him almost without asking; he stood up and felt the amulet touch the skin of his chest and he placed the palm of his hand upon it; the hide of the shirt filtered the light, he had the same flash of light in his mind but it was tolerable so he left his hand in place, over his heart, the amulet under his palm and he could see.

“I can see though there is no light in the tunnel”

Now he straightened up and attended to the first matter which was the pain in his foot and it proved cumbersome to have to hold the amulet through the hide and do everything with one hand so he bound his hand with a strip of hide and placed the amulet in his palm and secured it there with another strip, tied off tightly, then he could at least use the fingers of that hand. His heel was raw, the skin off but it wasn’t bleeding; he bound it with hide but he didn’t have another boot so that had to suffice.

His new “sight” was far from perfect; if the amulet moved too much the picture disappeared momentarily and each time it returned with a flash that was painful and after a while his head ached; he went to grab the pouch to inhale some of the herbs but found the pouch was gone.

He walked steadily, away from the ledge, for a time the way was perfectly flat and the floor of the tunnel was comprised large slabs, worn smooth;

“No man laid these stones”

If he had been able to see more clearly he would have seen that the floor was formed from the tops of tightly packed basalt columns rising hundreds of feet. However, water erosion, debris and the stinking algae mostly hid the vast pattern of polygonal joints. Two or three hundred paces further on he came to a vast shelf, formed when the pipe had cracked and one half had subsided, his half, but the stone columns thus exposed formed steps up to the higher level and the continuation of the tunnel.

There was a place where some water ran out from a crack and he slaked his thirst and filled the bag.

A vision; at least he thought it was a vision, obliterated his “sight”; he could see the animals standing in a circle of light, not their own light like the light they had created to fend off the hyena, no, a shaft of light that shone down on them from above and they were looking at him not up;

“If it is true then they live; I should not doubt it, the visions have never misled me and often they save us though I spare Rane the worries, perhaps too often; this gift blinds him”

The way was still flat and straight.

Chapter Six – Rane’s Progress

He climbed and his whole body, not just his fingers and toes, was numb; every time he had to move an arm or a leg the muscles burned. The sweat ran down his face and washed the dust into his eyes, he barely had the energy to blink them clear and he dare not take a hand from the wall to wipe them.

The sun was moving to the west but it was still hot and he estimated he was halfway; he could not see the top and he dare not look down. The rock was exposed, some of it freshly scarred and where the surface was newly exposed it looked like a fish’s scales, smooth and peering closely it held small flecks of shining stuff and crystals; he could also see, unlike War, that many of the rocks had uniform edges and faces that extend unbroken for as far as he could see and this led him to conclude that they were carved;

“Carved stairs, but who could do this, how could this be done?”

He reached a point where he thought he could not take another step, muscles began to ignore his commands and without water he felt a little delirious, his eyes struggled to focus on the rock barely the length of a finger from his nose;

“We do not die here, like this, Fen runs at our side full grown, we hunt together; the visions do not lie”

A few minutes more, fuelled by that thought and he reached a ledge, as wide and as deep as twice his height; he crawled onto it and lay still.

He knew he’d slept because he woke and was cold, the sweat had cooled and he shivered; the sun was beneath the opposing ridge now;

“I have no wood for fire, no water, no food”

But in truth he just needed to rest. He moved to the back of the ledge, afraid he would doze off and roll off the edge; he made himself as comfortable as he could and closed his eyes, not to sleep, just to help him focus on happier thoughts. The repairs to the winter shelter came to him; the sealing of the hides with the wax and the mess they had made; wax, honey, sweat and grime plastered over their bodies and the feelings ignited in his loins at the sight of War’s muscles standing out from their toil, the sheen highlighting the contours, the heaviness in his mate’s loins, the thickness of the stem of his young sapling; he grew with the remembrance of it and placed his hand over his burgeoning mound, pressing down hard;

“I believe we see each other again; please let us not be changed, injured or damaged”

He had never thought it had been “wrong” to couple with War or War with him; they’d seen young stags do it often enough and knew it was the satisfaction of a base need, but he also knew that there had come a point when he’d exercised a choice; no longer base need but yearnings that grew out of his heart, not out of his member. So many times they had coupled and left their seed inside each other; surely this bound them, forever.

His thoughts turned to the journey, the map and their goal; to look upon the sea of red flames and the green star in the cavern, at the end of the Northern Range. He remembered, vividly, finding the stick as he had looked for a long straight sapling from which to make a new spear; he recalled, though unhappily, the feelings of jealousy he’d felt when War had shown him the amulet that the old man had given him and with it the gift of future sight; and he was unhappier still when he recalled the feelings he’d had when he knew that he was glad he didn’t have the visions that bound War’s arms by his side, denied him choice and controlled his mind.

He had War, he had the protection of the animals and he had the path to follow; gifts from the Goddess and if he had never met War and he had continued to the settlement to trade for stone and if he had returned to his village he knew that nothing would have changed and all would have been in vain; now he had purpose, energy, questions undoubtedly but perhaps the means to answer them, and if not, then there was a life with War by his side.

“Give me strength to hold true to this path; I will not forsake War before I see there is no hope, no life and even if his dead limp body were at my feet now, I should not believe it; I will not fail him; the words of the old man are an echo of something from the past; that fault shall not be mine”.

Chapter Seven – War’s decision

He walked at a steady pace along the tunnel; even with his new gift of sight he could not see the end;

“This runs straight and though I don’t know in what direction, I pray it is further to the east; I am sure this links with the chasm that opens out onto the “eye” of the giant”

Such was his hope. Despite waking up with Ciru by his side, the lynx had run off and he hadn’t seen her since;

“I pray that they are safe; I hope we see each other again”

The vision had told him that he did but he felt something looming, a cloud forming, it felt ominous.

Soon after the roof of the tunnel appeared to get lower and the walls draw in, not that he had to stoop or crouch; and in a way the proximity of the walls made him feel better, more human in this most un-human of places. Without warning the tunnel opened out and he found himself on the threshold of a chamber, roughly circular, the ceiling was just within sight, ahead were two tunnels. He walked into the centre of the chamber and stood perfectly still;

“This is the choice; this is the test, choose wrong and there is only pain and then death…why do I have no vision to help me here?”

He thought of the old man who had given him the amulet, the old man who had the tattoo on his chest; the picture of the flames and the star, the same as on the wall of the lynx’s cave, the same as on the stick. He thought of him sitting in the front of his hut, a much younger man, dispensing wisdom, words that belied his age and experience, though Rane did not know if the man had travelled or where he had found the amulet; perhaps he’d been to the cave or even the cavern. And was that War’s fate, the see the flames and the star and then become some kind of seer until the visions became hazy and then abandoned him; leaving him locked in a world of fragmented dreams.

“I survive this, I am reunited with Rane and we hunt with Fen who is full grown; but first I have to make the right choice…”

He took the amulet out of the palm of his hand and put it around his neck, as soon as he dropped his hand the gift of sight was taken away and he was plunged into the pitch black again;

“I have to make this choice of my own free will, if I choose right then I will be worthy of it”

He stood motionless and barely drew breath; there wasn’t a sound, not even the drip of water. He concentrated on the choice, which of the tunnels to take; they starred back at him like the empty orbits of a skull. One he believed would take him to the chasm that reached the surface; the other led only to pain and death. He moved closer in case the air was different, provided a clue; nothing.

“How do I choose?”

When he had been abandoned in the valley as a child of perhaps seven or eight he had made lots of choices, then, as now, the right choice meant survival. If, on a particular day, he had to decide to hunt, then he would look at the sky, test the strength of the wind; know the quarter from which she blew, but ultimately he had made the choice based on what his instinct told him; “today you hunt” or “today you rest, the wolves are near the col”.

He stood until he lost the sensation in his legs; moving forward he could not feel the rock beneath his feet, it was as if he floated;

“Today I hunt, I am hungry”

He continued walking, his legs came back to life and he entered the tunnel on his left without hesitation. After taking some steps beyond the entrance he wrapped the amulet in the palm of his hand; there was Ciru, waiting, sat, expectant;

“I chose the right way”

Chapter Eight – Rane’s Decision

The increasing brightness of the sunlight woke him gently;

“Climb Rane, feel the sun on your face”

He left straightaway; there was no camp to break. He climbed steadily; the rocks were no less hard, no less sharp, his fingers were no less numb, he sweated the same and his muscles burned with the exertion but he had hope; over this ridge lay the short plain to the outcrop which looked like the giant’s head and in the “eye” of the giant was the entrance to the chasm and that was where he believed he would be reunited with War and the animals.

By the time the sun was overhead he had reached the top and he flung himself over the edge, hauling his body away from the drop and face down, his mouth pressed to the rock, he gave thanks for his deliverance. Thirst and hunger drove him to move and his plan now was to walk along the ridge, north, and then drop down at the easiest point to the plain where he planned to camp. Turning to the north he soldiered on; taking paths that took him off the ridge, angling down to the base, occasionally switching back and once having to climb back up a fair way but always angling down and now the plain came into clear view.

The plain was like an oasis, a green field between the leviathans, dwarfed on three sides; to the south, the Southern Range and to the north, the Northern Range, to the east a vast plateau of lakes ending in mist and to the west, the fingers of the giant’s hands and the plain that led back to the village and the turning in the path. As he descended it grew hot as the air was held in this cauldron and didn’t stir much. From his vantage point higher up the plain looked like it was covered with short grass and he was surprised that he didn’t see herds of deer grazing; only when he was lower did he see that the grass was tall, unlike any grass he had seen before, tall and tightly packed and at the tip of each stem there was a spike which held two rows of seeds. He reached the base and stopped, still planning to set up a camp and hunt; he was ravenously hungry beyond all things. He plucked some of the grass and rubbed his hand over the spike, the seeds were still maturing and did not disperse but a few came away and he rubbed them between the palms of his hands and the smell was sweet.

He made a simple camp near the outflow of a small spring and assessed the conditions for hunting. The grass was no good for grazers so he did not expect to find deer or mouflon; on the knees of the ranges he might find Ibex but also their predators. He stumbled on the stream by accident as he reconnoitred the terrain directly east of his position, for a second or two the way eastwards felt, he did not even know the word, like good fresh meat, wholesome he might have said.

In the stream were trout, big fat brown ones and he speared one; quickly gutting it to toast pieces on his hot little fire, barely waiting for the flesh to cook before he rammed the pieces into his mouth. He heard the eagle again and looked up;

“I am coming War; I must eat; I will be no good to you if I am starving to death”

Whilst he was sat and eating he thought about the questions that had led him to start his journey; where was his father and why was he shunned by the village? He had chewed over these questions endlessly and only one thought ever returned; his father had done something that had brought shame upon the village, or worse and he, his father’s son, was punished the same, but he had no memory of his father and what crime could he be held accountable for; he had done nothing wrong save teach himself to hunt. Of late, the questions had burdened his mind less; he had a path and a goal, he had a friend and a mate that he would die for. The lack of any certain future beyond finding the cavern was all that troubled him much.

“War is burdened by the visions; he has need of me and my clear sight; I will not fail him; I will protect him until I have neither breath nor blood left in my body; he saved my life and I saved his; we are bound forever and when I see him he will know that I treasure his friendship and love beyond all other things”

It was very nearly the very first time he had perceived someone other than himself as important, to be valued and worthy of his esteem.

Chapter Nine – The circle

“Ciru…”

Instead of padding towards him the kitten turned and ran away, down the tunnel and quickly; he could not follow her with his eyes and soon she was gone;

“It matters not, they are close, and she runs to tell them that I am coming”

It was still a very long time before anything changed.

He wondered about the old man; how had the amulet affected him; he knew, from what the chief had said, that the old man had, in the past, foretold many things; obviously things that became fact, he was revered for it. So why had the amulet abandoned him and left him with nothing except half-forgotten dreams, echoes of memories? Where had he found the stone, had he visited the cave? Had he had protectors in the past, had he used the stone to see in the dark? All that he could conclude was that the man had served his purpose and the amulet needed to move on; so would he share the old man’s fate when he had served his purpose? And what was his purpose? The stone they had found in the lynx’s cave was important but he did not know why.

He had left the valley to find his people and understand why he had been abandoned as a child, surely none had expected him to survive, but if he did then did they expect someone else from him; but what? Perhaps it was a test and if he passed the test and stood in the cavern and saw the flames and the star then his future would be clear, that which he had to do. He also thought that the map stick had been placed in the valley for him to find; but Rane had found the stick; and if he was honest he believed that Rane had found the stick by accident and he had been its intended discoverer; what then of Rane, was he friend or enemy?

The journey along the tunnel provided ample opportunity to think about all of this, though he came to no hard conclusions, except that he had to find the cavern and he would not have started the journey nor found the courage to continue had it not been for Rane, so Rane was a friend, his saviour, or merely a tool?

And what of the protectors?

The burning question was “why were we chosen?”

He walked, hour after hour and although he had plenty of water he had no food and hunger began to press on his mind and the pain increased in his stomach. If he had entered a system of caverns and tunnels that stretched to the opening in the giant’s “eye” then he still had a very long way to go, or maybe not, guided by the light inside his head he didn’t really have any appreciation of distance and the tunnel was uniform; he could not now estimate how far he had walked, even from the chamber where he had made the choice between right or left, even less from the point where the tunnel had subsided, none from the entrance at the back of the ledge. Nor did he know how far the hot breath of the fire had carried him, nor how deep he had fallen and he only hoped he was walking in the right direction but the behaviour of Ciru told him he must be right.

Having seen her and watched her run off he dare not stop though his legs and especially his aching foot would have welcomed some repose. Then, gradually, he realised that the walls of the tunnel were further away and the ceiling was way above his head; it was opening out. Far in the distance, but too far to see anything clearly, he saw what he thought was a light; yes, it was a light, it wavered, like the light of a star, twinkling in the night sky, it got bigger and he increased his pace;

“It is them, it is like the circle of light they created to ward off the hyena…I am coming” he shouted and he ran, now certain that it was the animals and the vision came back to him of the animals stood in a circle, with a shaft of light coming down from above and they were looking at him.

“I am coming” he shouted again and now he could see their outlines; Fen, Tara, Ciru and Soma, stood in a circle and a shaft of light came down from above and they were watching him. Fifty paces, forty, thirty, twenty…he could see their features, their eyes.

He was upon them and he fell to his knees with his arms outstretched to embrace them and something shifted and they fell upon him and he had never been so relieved;

“I am here”

And their presence was like food and he ate ravenously, caressing their heads and kissing their eyes, letting them lick his face and paw him and he lifted their paws and pressed them to his cheek.

He still had hold of the amulet in the palm of his hand and he was standing in the shaft of light with them now and just before he removed the amulet from his hand to put it back around his neck he looked up. It was the sun that was shining down and for a brief moment he saw the sun as if he were stood as close to it as he was to the animals.

The fire writhed as serpents and they dived into the cauldron of fire and sprang back up and fire and light issued from their mouths and eyes and the fire left their gapping jaws like venom. One turned to him and raised itself up and then struck him, the fangs pierced his eyes and for a heartbeat he was connected with the sun but then the venom turned black and his eyes felt like charcoal. He fell back and though he knew he was still within the shaft of light for he could feel the warmth, he could see nothing and yet the amulet was still in his palm.

Before he could stop himself he raised his hands to his eyes, he pressed his fingertips to the orbits and felt cold, hard, smooth stone;

“No…NO!”

Chapter Ten – The stair

Disbelief paralysed him, he dare not move because he was blind. He sat, with his knees drawn up to his chest and his forehead resting on his knees; there were no tears.

“Fen…”

The wolf nuzzled him; he felt closest to the wolf, safer for his presence alone;

“…what do I do?”

The wolf tugged at his sleeve and he allowed the wolf to pull his hand away from where it hugged his legs and he felt the hide of the fawn; as soon as his hand, still with the amulet in his palm, made contact with her he could see, through her eyes, he saw himself, as she saw him, a pathetic heap on the floor and he saw his own eyes, hard, black shining lumps in his sockets; like black stars, glittering, dead stars.

Fen urged him to move and the fawn took a step and he had to keep hold of her to maintain his new-found sight and he got up; they moved slowly. He placed his hand on her head, between her ears, that was the most comfortable and she took another step and then another. Across the floor of the chasm they moved to the wall. As they approached he saw the formation, a stair, spiralling up, each tread made from a pillar that hugged the side of the chamber, in fact, it grew out of the surface of the wall.

In all War’s life he had never seen anything so perfectly geometric; he had lived for twelve years in the valley, there all was nature, natural, random, alive and growing, chaotic, but still perfect. Therefore, these stones were even stranger to him, cut with a precision he could not comprehend; they were of equal size and identical in shape. The fawn moved to mount the first stair and he had to follow; he could not stand beside her because the stair was too narrow so he had to let his hand slip down her back and it came to rest between her rear hips, she continued to move and he moved with her; the others followed behind, in fact Fen had the kitten in his jaws because she could not scale the distance between one tread and the next and Tara had to jump each time.

Quickly they gained height and War realised he was totally dependent on the fawn; he did not know if he could see through the others; Fen had tugged at his sleeve, he hadn’t touched the wolf’s body; so perhaps he could see through them just the same but now was not the time to test the theory.

He couldn’t remember how far the surface had appeared to be, that fleeting glimpse had not been enough to gauge it; but as they rose he felt the air change, it was warmer than in the cavern but not as hot as on the ledge and he knew the sun was moving off because as they traced their path around the spiral, there were times when he felt the sun’s heat and saw the shadow on the wall; but that depended on where the fawn was looking and it was proving difficult to maintain a grip on this reality, he saw what the fawn saw; many times he consciously moved his head but he still saw what she saw, his field of vision didn’t change; it bound them closer. She did not stop and neither therefore did he or the others; at one point she looked up and he saw the edge of the chasm, the blackness highlighted against a patch of sky but for the most part she looked down and all he saw were her front hooves moving, one being placed in front of the other.

Then his view changed and they climbed out onto the surface and he took his last step, one behind her and they were finally out of the chasm. Prophetically they were standing on the “eye” of the giant, looking west.

Now he saw the world as she did and it was very different to the way he remembered it. But first he stopped and took his hand from her hide and reached out for Fen, to determine if he could see through the wolf’s eyes. He could and if he had been able to cry he would have; likewise the fox and the lynx; he saw what they saw and how they saw it.

Chapter Eleven – The wonders of the world

He had to rest and the animals needed to feed and he was happy to let go of them and found some peace in the void which enveloped him as soon as his hand left their skin.

“I can never let any harm come to them, nor be parted from them, nor ever let go of the amulet but I have never been so dependent on them or felt so weak”

Thoughts which did not cultivate the rest or the peace of mind he craved just then.

It presented some practical difficulties at first, with his hand placed on one of the animals, he only had one hand to do everything else and he could not dictate what they looked at; if he, Tara, chose to look at the pack to help him find the striker to make the spark to light the fire that was all to the good but the animals were constantly on the watch for predators or quarry and he often had to let them go because his brain could not process the information quickly enough and he felt sick; Fen was the easiest to utilise and he appeared to understand the problem better, then they had some kind of telepathy since the episode at the lake; this made their bond deeper and stronger.

And it was something he would just have to get used to, seeing his own face through the eyes of the animals; the black orbs frightened him and fascinated him; he could touch the surface of his “eye” and he didn’t flinch; there was no feeling there; the surface was not wholly smooth, but faceted like a crystal, but the edges were not sharp and it caused him any pain to blink, which he did instinctively and he closed them to sleep.

It had taken hours but he had collected wood and lighted a fire, heated some water and made soup of the last dried stuff that he had found in the pack; the kitten lapped it up from the palm of his hand. Fen had already learned to accept his hand between his ears, War’s fingers extending down to between his eyes and he was beginning to respond to slight changes in pressure and that it signalled that War needed him to turn his head slightly. The fox and the kitten were younger and more playful, less cooperative and much more active. The fawn was his gift from the Goddess, if she were not the Goddess herself; Soma did not need to hunt and was happy to stay within the confines of the camp; she accepted his hand freely and openly and walked slower!

How they saw the world was truly a wonder.

Fen’s field of vision was much like his own he remembered but the near black and white world in which the wolf lived was a real shock; War assumed all animals saw colour like he had. The most impressive aspect of Fen’s sight, the way he detected the smallest movements at considerable distances and they had not even begun to investigate night vision.

Each time he used one of the animals to see he kissed their eyes; how else could he say how much he thanked them and needed them?

The fawn could see a vast area but only clearly in a narrow field of vision and all of that in varying hues of yellow and blue. When she saw something in the distance she could track it without the slightest movement of her head.

The lynx had poor sight during the day, everything was mostly black and white like Fen’s and Tara’s but at night her sight was very keen though not as keen as Soma’s.

He had survived one day and one night, grew better at doing things without sight and still marvelled at his new vision, especially when he held one of the animals as they ate, seeing the food approach their mouths which he, himself, could not taste. The chief difficulty was only being able to use one hand whilst coupled; it gave him the incentive to try to see through their eyes without touching them; with Fen, because they were linked telepathically to a degree, it worked a little but he still had to have his hand very close to the wolf’s skin and without the contact he could not indicate readily what he wanted Fen to do, like rummage in the pack or search for wood.

They, the animals, began to realise they he couldn’t see and approached him differently; moving slower towards him and placing their head under his hand; but as they invariably were looking at him as they did he had the shock of seeing his own face with its two black orbs staring at him and the gift of sight came in an instant, with a painful flash without warning.

He also saw how they saw each other and the ribbons of light that connected them, even when they were far from each other the light still joined them; and he realised that, if he had hold of one, he’d never lose the others. But he was vulnerable when he did not have hold of them and when they left to hunt he sat quietly but felt afraid, not moving very far and alert to danger, most especially from attack from other animals; his hearing improved greatly but that sought only to amplify some of his fears, hearing some movement conjured up dreadful images in his mind.

He was also acutely aware that the amulet showed him no visions; the last had been of the animals stood in the circle bathed in light at the end of the tunnel; now nothing. He remembered the vision of the chick being born and that triggered his recollection of the conversation with Rane;

“Rane, where are you, please come” he pleaded

At the end of the second day he curled up with the animals to sleep; fortunately it wasn’t cold and he didn’t bother with a fire.

Sleep gave him their greatest gift; he saw their dreams.

Chapter Twelve – The hunters reunited

The day broke and he kept hold of Fen to find water before he let him run off. Then he sat quietly and listened to Soma tearing at the grass and munching, not ten paces to his left. Some scampering told him that the kitten wasn’t too far away and Tara had found an egg which he gave to her; War had no meat to mix into the paste for her. Fen was gone the longest and he then he heard his panting;

“Fen”

The wolf lolloped over and placed his head under the hand that was outstretched, palm face down. In an instant he saw the landscape, to the West, on the horizon the last place where they had been together, the last ridge before the causeway.

He heard the tearing of flesh and the crunching of bones behind him and let Fen have his share; he didn’t want to see them devour the carcass but he was happy that they had something to eat.

He knew he could not stay here forever; if Rane did not come then he would have to move but he didn’t have the map stick and therefore no clue if there was a settlement closer than the old man’s, laughing to himself at the prospect of travelling that far, even as far as the “brow” that sat above the “eye” upon which they were perched. He’d heard the eagle and knew the chick wasn’t that far; he might have to reach it and the prospect of finding out how the eagle “saw” swept away the doubt and the fear and in any case, the sun was warming his back and the animals were calm.

Fen came back over and he could smell the blood on his breath and it made him gasp barely able to force the bile back down. The wolf lay at his side and he had his hand on his shoulders, his forearm supported by the wolf’s spine, the landscape returned and he just watched and waited, knowing that Fen saw the smallest movements far off; that was his hope, he saw Rane and he was sure Fen would run off to greet him.

How he told Rane what had happened he did not know; would the shock be too great, would his disability undermine their bonds?

He could never look upon his mate’s face with his own eyes; did that matter in the dark?

He bound a strip of hide around his eyes; he didn’t want Rane to see them without warning. And without warning Fen got up and ran off; he hadn’t seen anything to account for it, but the wolf’s hearing was more acute than his;

“Let it be Rane; I do not think I will survive without him; my heart is stricken with grief like I have already seen him dead”

He got up and cupped his hands around his lips and bellowed out;

“Rane, we are here, on the eye”

His voice came back as an echo and he sounded afraid so he bellowed again and again.

Rane edged around the plain to find a way up onto the “chin” of the giant and start his ascent to the “eye”. As he drew closer he could see a crevice and when he reached it he saw that it extended up to the lower lip but the width of the crevice was barely wide enough to allow his entry. There had been a tree near the village, a big ancient oak and the trunk was nearly hollow; he had climbed inside the trunk many times and knew how to ascend.

He put his pack across his chest and braced his back against one side of the crack, his arms pushed straight out in front of him. He lifted his left leg and bent it placing the sole of his foot against the hard surface, his heel nearly touching the back of his thigh; he raised the other leg and placed his foot against the wall in front of him, just the toes, which were slightly bent. He levered himself up, forcing the leg that was behind him to straighten, but braced as he was his body had no place to go except upwards; as his body rose he forced his weight onto the front leg and used it to steady himself and he lifted his arms so that just at the point at which his back leg was extended as far as he dare, he jammed his hands against the wall ahead of him and pinned himself back against the wall, just for a second, until he could place his feet again; the rhythm was the most essential part of the procedure and he’d had plenty of practice.

In this way he ascended in vertical leaps and pretty quickly he had raised himself by at least three or four times his own height. He couldn’t look down because the pack blocked his view;

“Don’t think about it too much Rane” he counselled himself, he’d fallen down inside the oak many times, a lack of concentration on his part, “Just push and rise up”.

The pipe up which he was propelling himself was not uniform in width; but his could adjust for that to a degree but not if he could not reach out with his palms and touch the other wall; he sensed the pipe was widening and began to reconcile himself to the thought that he might have to climb back down; in any event his leg muscles were screaming so when on the next leap up he found a ledge to sit on he wasn’t unhappy; the pipe was indeed much wider and he couldn’t reach across to brace himself. He had risen, by his own estimation, about a third of the distance to the lower lip;

“The way will never be easy Rane” he said to himself

He moved to ready himself for the journey back down and he looked up once; when he did he saw the unmistakeable head of Fen looking down;

“Fen!” he shouted jubilantly

The wolf was excited and yelped;

“Tell War I am coming; I cannot continue this way; it is too wide”

The wolf disappeared;

“Fen is alive; the others are too, they all survived the fall”

He had sat back down to ease himself into the pipe when Fen appeared at the back of the ledge and he almost fell in surprise;

“Fen!”

The wolf was upon him, licking his face;

“I have never been so happy to see you; my prayers are answered; take me to the others”

He got up and scuttled to the back of the ledge, Fen in front. There was a passage, leading up to the “lips” but it was a tortuous path and so narrow it barely accommodated his shoulders; a rough-hewn channel and the walls grazed his knees, elbows and shoulders. Fen kicked up dust and small stones that showered him, filling his mouth, ears and eyes with grit. He sensed that they were moving back from the face of the rock and the passageway was angling into the mountain. It was now less steep and thankfully wider. Had it not been for Fen he would have plunged headlong into the throat of the giant which dissected his path, from left to right;

“This way Fen…” for it seemed to him that they had no choice but to follow the “throat” to the right and up into the back of the mouth but Fen wanted to go down

“Fen, why down?”

Fen stood waiting, offering no choice;

“Down?”

Rane’s reluctance wasn’t wholly due to the direction that they were heading, it was the fact that the way was pitch black and he’d be placing his trust in Fen entirely, something he’d never done, no, he’d trusted War to bring him back from the edge of death after being gored by the wild boar. He had no choice but to follow. They went down and he had to cling to Fen for there was no light at all and every step forward was prefaced by the fear of falling or knocking himself out on low rocks; down they went, lower and lower and it became wet underfoot and he slipped frequently but the wolf stood fast and never abandoned him; such loyalty and devotion he had never experienced in an animal before.

Just at the point that he thought Fen must be wrong they exited into another tunnel, the floor came up to his feet sharply and his knees buckled; Fen turned and headed swiftly along the passageway with Rane practically running to keep up; he couldn’t know that it was the same tunnel that War had chosen. War had walked whereas Rane trotted and the time it took to arrive at the chamber with the stairs was less than half but it still took them considerable time. When they arrived at the chamber the sun was directly overhead just as it had been when War had arrived. Fen led him to the first stair;

“This is a wonder; how did you find it?”

Fen of course couldn’t answer him, couldn’t tell him anything of the journey he had taken after the causeway had collapsed, only War had an inkling based on the dreams he saw in Fen’s mind as they slept but they were more like nightmares than dreams of chasing deer across the plains.

Fen went first, climbing quickly and Rane followed, panting with the exertion for he carried a heavy pack and a little fish had hardly prepared him for the ordeal but the thought that at the end of the climb he would be reunited with the others, and most especially with War, drove him on. He, like War, assumed the stairs were carved, he hadn’t seen anything so perfect as the pillars that grew out of the side of the chamber; carved by Gods. Having control of his own sight he looked up frequently and saw the approaching edge, the sky and the portion of the “eye brow” that was visible from within the chasm. Fen raced ahead as they reached the top and he exited well before the hunter; then he heard War’s voice and he leaped with joy and even though he was struggling to breathe he shouted out;

“War; I am coming”

Finally he was clear of the chasm and stood on the “eye” of the giant and scanning he saw War seated fifty paces from him with Fen at his side, Soma behind him and Ciru at his feet;

“War!”

“I hear you Rane”

That sounded odd to Rane and he wondered why War wasn’t running down to meet him and as he approached he saw why, the hide bandage across his eyes and despite the joy he felt sick with worry;

“War…”

As he approached, War stood up, relinquishing his grip on Fen to welcome his mate with both arms. No words were spoken at first, just an embrace, both crushing each other into their body and crying. Rane pulled back a little to gaze into War’s face;

“You are injured…” and Rane placed a hand protectively against War’s cheek

“Yes; I am injured”

“What happened? I can’t believe you survived, I can’t believe I have found you”

“There is so much to tell”

Rane pulled him in for another embrace and kissed his mouth;

“Fen found me and guided me here, through the labyrinth…”

“Rane…”

“What is wrong?”

War paused for a moment;

“I am blinded…I cannot see”

“You cannot see?”

“Not as you…it is hard to explain and the injury is frightening to look at, that is why I have bound my eyes”

“But when…how…how did you get here?”

“There is too much to tell Rane, I do not know where to begin…but you are here, that is all that matters for the moment; please do not take more than one pace from me; I do not think my heart would bear the separation again”

“I will not leave your side War, ever”

“Maybe to hunt”

“Are you as hungry as me?”

“At least as hungry as you” and for the first time in more days then he cared to recall he smiled and then laughed.

“I’ll take Fen; we’ll soon have meat roasting on a fire”

“Tara is missing”

“In search of eggs no doubt”

“I have been unable to feed Ciru…hand me the kitten whilst you are gone”

Rane did, not knowing the reason for the request, except that he, War, needed some comfort;

“I do not want to leave you”

“Soma will alert me to any danger…hunt, we need our strength”

He watched Rane depart with Fen through the kittens eyes but the kitten squirmed and demanded to be placed on the ground and having done so, she scampered off; Soma moved over to his side and lay down;

“If you are the Goddess, then hear my thanks for delivering us this day and if it is within your gift then give me strength and give Rane strength and protect the others…and soon there will be another”

Sat with the fawn he waited patiently for the return of Tara and the hunters, watching Ciru sharpen her skills and her claws. Tara appeared and he darted over to him and without warning he dropped an egg into his lap and when he picked it up he felt how warm it was;

“It is the egg of the eagle and the chick lives…I feel the struggle begin”

He held the egg in his hands, keeping it warm, feeling the slight vibrations as the chick struggled to break through the shell; he was tempted to assist but counselled himself against it;

“She must do this herself, this alone she must do”

He couldn’t see it but he could feel it and the shell broke around the middle and he felt the tip of the wing, or maybe it was the foot, pushing through. Though he touched it with his hand he saw nothing comprehensible; the eaglet’s eyes were closed. Over the next hour the eaglet pushed itself out, but exhausted it slept for a while, in War’s palm, one hand cupped over the other; then he felt it move vigorously and he raised his hand so that she could see the world into which she had been born. She was white, but then all eagle chicks are white. He brought his hand down to touch her head.

The instant War’s hand touched her everything changed for him and as if such a moment needed to be heralded in, the mother screeched overhead.

The Obsidian Eyed Hunter

Part 3 of ‘The Map Stick’

By

Alp Mortal

Text Copyright© 2014 Alp Mortal

All Rights Reserved

Chapter One – Blinded by the light

Rane and Fen returned an hour later, dragging the carcass of a small deer that the hunters had brought down between them.

“War! We are back.”

“I hear you…my hearing is becoming very acute; not yet as good as Fen’s…”

Before dealing with the kill, Rane stepped over and sat at War’s side.

“…Tara brought back the eagle’s egg and it hatched in my hand,” and War lifted a scrap of hide to reveal the chick sleeping in a makeshift nest, “she will wake soon and no doubt she’ll be hungry but she’ll eat the meat if it is torn into small pieces.”

“Does she have a name?”

“What is the word in your tongue for the lightning strike that comes with the storms?”

“Quinha...”

“She is “Quinha”…”

“She is “Quinha”…”

And it was as if she heard her name, for the chick woke and demanded feeding. Rane cut and tore strips of the meat from the carcass and War fed her. He held her in one hand and fed her with the other, using his sense of touch alone and her beak was already sharp as his fingertips found out to their cost!

Once the chick was satisfied for the moment, War put her back in the nest and he called for Rane to come and sit by him.

“Rane, there is so much to tell you I do not know where to begin.”

“Start at the collapse of the causeway, though how shall I forget that!?”

“We slid down the slope until we hit a rock and then we were flung into the abyss. Everything was black and we fell for an eternity.”

“I could not look over the edge. I was sure I would see you smashed like twigs…”

“We fell and then the hot breath carried us like leaves or feathers through the cavern. I do not know how long it took. At the beginning I felt the animals were close to me, but then I felt alone. It was pitch black. I do not remember getting to the ledge, but I found myself on a ledge and I peered over the edge and far beneath me was a river of red fire. The chasm was bigger than the valley. I crawled away from the edge and the amulet came free of my shirt. I touched it, and I could see. All the time I held the stone I could see. I wrapped it in my palm and entered the tunnel. I walked a long way and then there was a cavern with two tunnels and I had to choose my path. I chose right because I found Ciru.”

War paused to sip a little water, instinctively reaching out for Rane’s hand. When his man’s fingers touched his, he felt many things return that he realised he had missed: the touch of the rough skin, the smell of sweat and meat, Fen’s scent, the heat, the edge of a fingernail that grazed his palm. Rane withdrew his hand and War half smiled, sensing that Rane was moving and then he felt Rane closing in, pushing him back.

“I knew you were not dead and I would find you here. I promised myself that I would tell you how much I loved you…“

“Show me…”

War was uncharacteristically forward and took the initiative despite his impediment, pulling Rane down on him and seeking out the lips. They broke like a fruit, ripe and dripping. Rane pulled back to take off his shirt. His scent, that particular mix of sweat and hide, traces of the barley, Fen’s muskiness, ignited a spark in War’s loins. In his mind he saw two stones struck against each other and a spark jump into a wad of dry moss; his flame grew out of the moss. He reached out to touch Rane’s stomach and chest; he found them, the smooth, hot, elastic planks. Rane reached and tugged at War’s shirt and lifted it up and over War’s head. In the process the hide bandage was dislodged. War clamped his eyes shut.

“No!”

“War, show me,” Rane pleaded gently, reaching out to touch War’s cheeks with his fingertips.

“Don’t be afraid,” War cautioned him, but here was the test. He opened his eyes and sat very still, holding his breath. He heard Rane gasp and felt his fingers tense. All War wanted to do was gaze into Rane’s eyes and transmit his love to him.

“Rane…”

Rane's fingers had dropped from his cheeks. Just as he started to believe that Rane would pull away and their moment of reunion would be destroyed, he felt Rane move forward and then he felt his lover's lips pressed to his own. Before full contact was made, Rane murmured, “I am not afraid...”

The rest was lost in the tasting and then the gorging on the fruit. Hands were no less idle and soon both were naked and hands gripped young muscular thighs, pulling in; the piling of wood on the fire; the flames of their manhood darting between the strong and supple timbers.

Soon, sight didn't matter. How many times had they coupled in the light of the fire alone? Tongues flowed like oil and made the fire spit and sizzle. Rane took War first, lubricating the way with his fruit's juices. He hardened the tip of his shaft in the fire and when War was begging for the little death he plunged the rod in and bucked; fire his food; War's cries, the puff of air that made the fire flare. Release came in shuddering jolts, his seed snatched and sucked out of his body; at first viscous, then light, like partly burned litter, thrown up on the draught of the fire, tossed high to float back down like Sycamore.

War raised his upper body, supported by his arms, turning his head to find Rane's mouth. With Rane's manhood buried between his buttocks and Rane's tongue in his mouth, he felt complete for the first time since they had been reunited. He was reminded of the circles of fire around the sun; the last thing he'd seen with his own eyes. His fire leaped into Rane's mouth where he swallowed it and ultimately returned it to him, deep in his own cavern. A river of red fire, flowing through his body; the sacred channel.

Rane's embers were cooling and War was transfixed by the journey of the fire through his body. The kiss of a cool breeze brought them to their senses. The chick woke and complained of hunger. A flurry of activity followed and then quiet returned. War told Rane how the sun had smote his eyes and his first experiences of 'seeing' through the eyes of the animals.

“It is easier with Fen; he understands. The chick's sight is the keenest. Soma's is the best at night.”

“Perhaps it will return when we find the cavern under the mountain,” ventured Rane.

“I don't know. Can stone be turned back into flesh?”

“Perhaps you will only see certain things whilst they are...changed.” The word chosen deliberately; not damaged but changed.

“Do we still go?” asked War.

“We have come this far. If we do not go; then where?”

“Back to the village or back to the valley?”

“There are no answers there...”

“I have been marked by the stone and the fire...but there are no visions; not since the sun took away my sight.”

Rane had a thought, “The old man must have had the choice and turned his back on it. I think he reached the cave and was marked by the stone but went back. The amulet punished him for his cowardice...”

“I do not feel brave.”

“You are, War. You bear the weight of our hopes and carry the pain of doubt. We have the map and the Goddess guides and protects us. I say we go to the end.”

“Then we should leave before the summer starts to die.”

“Agreed. In a few days, after we have regained some strength and re-filled our pouches.”

“I am slower.”

“The way becomes treacherous. Speed must give way to surefootedness. Every step brings us closer to the mountain.”

And that was how it was left; a few days to prepare for the next stage of the journey. They moved their camp to the highest point of the 'giant's' head. The undulations of the lower reaches were beginning to give way to rougher terrain; the giant's teeth, broken on the granite as it chewed its way out of the belly of the earth. This country stretched to the foot of the mountain, becoming steeper and jagged. With the eagle in his palm and the hand that held the amulet touching her head, War could see the mountain. It was a different kind of giant, brooding and hunched over its subterranean fire, jealous of sharing the heat and covetous of the gift that they were bringing.

That night, as the full moon rose, War took Rane and shared his fire. In the moments after his release, as they held each other, Rane saw the moonlight reflected in the surface of War's eyes. They glittered, like the stars in the night sky, and they reminded him of the torches that were lit and carried to the pyre when a tribesman was sent on their way. He was relieved when War closed them to sleep.

Chapter Two - Progress is halted

Rane was right. The way became slow and treacherous at times. They clambered down from the head of the giant and struck out due north, along a spine, the bleached bones of the long dead ogre. Treacherous because the path would be certain until they turned a corner and found the path plunged into a chasm. Some were filled with water. In the dying light of each day, the pools resembled seeping wounds.

Despite the heat of the sun, the air was cooling as they travelled north. Already the rocks were slick in the morning, before the heat of the day dried them.

Habitually, War walked with Soma, leaving the others to scamper about or hunt. The chick stayed in the sling for the time being. She was growing and less comfortable, often scraping War's side with her talons as she fought against her cage. In the end, he let her decide. One morning he placed her on the ground. She flapped madly but only succeeded in raising a cloud of dust.

"Be grateful for the sling!"

In the end, she sat on the top of the pack that he had on his back unless she slept, then she was happy to be put back in the sling.

Before they had left the camp on the giant's eye, Rane had made new boots for them both. War had lost one of his in the fall. They needed them, and soon after, the soft fur liners were dug out of the packs to provide a cushion against the hard stone. Some distance from that camp they stopped for a few days, to rest and hunt, to replenish the packs. In the evening of the day they stopped, they examined the map stick. Well, Rane did, and with some perseverance, he managed to get Fen to stay still and look at the totem so that War could see it too.

"I do not know what this feature is," said Rane, pointing at a black mark, "perhaps it is just damage or a crack."

The stick was scored across the recognised path.

"It is close, if it is something real, and our experience would suggest a hazard," counselled War.

"Further tests we do not need."

"Surely none could be greater than the last!" begged War.

"I will scout ahead. Then we can prepare better for the trial, if that is what it proves to be."

War heard the sense of the words but hated to be left alone. No doubt Tara, Ciru and Fen would follow Rane, leaving him with Quinha and Soma; scant protection against predators.

"Set off early…"

"I'll be back before sunset."

They needed a reasonable fire to stay warm that night. War was sure he could smell the autumn returning. How would things be when the rains came, and worse, the snows? He already knew, from his sighting of the mountain, that it was crowned in ice. He felt vulnerable, like the first few years of his sojourn in the valley, before the winter shelter was completed. Perhaps as compensation for being reminded of his vulnerability, he shared Fen's dreams that night. The wolf was running across snow fields, almost jubilant, totally free, relishing the sting of the ice needles that the wind blew into his face.

Rane rose early and War smiled bravely as Rane readied himself for the trek.

"As soon as I see anything, I'll turn back," he promised.

"I will be safe here. Soma won't wander off."

The morning evaporated as War sorted their packs, blind. It was good practice and the familiar feel of the objects, these days heightened, was very comforting. Just after the sun had reached her zenith, Soma became agitated. War placed the chick in his palm and placed his hand on her head and then wished he hadn't been so brave in allowing Rane to leave them.

"Who are you?"

The man's voice was strange, stranger than any other he'd heard. He understood the words but they were rounded, not sharp-edged like Rane's. His spear was by his side but if he went for it he'd have to relinquish his hold on the chick and then he'd be blind, so he sat very still.

"I am War...are you a hunter?" In the tone he used when he had encountered travellers in the valley, especially when he was much younger and physically less able to protect himself.

The man laughed heartily.

"I follow dreams and hunt truth...I am Calen...are you a demon?"

War faltered momentarily and he reached up to his eyes, realising that he hadn't replaced the hide bandage.

"No. I am a hunter...I was injured."

"Are you alone?"

"I am with Rane...he is scouting ahead."

The man moved forward and War shifted uneasily.

"You can see?"

"I see...through the eyes of the animals."

"Do they see like us?"

"A little different. The eagle's eyes are very keen but the deer's are better at night."

The man squatted down, the length of a spear from War. The chick eyed him intently and War saw, as she, that he was completely naked, save for his belt and knife.

"Where do you come from?" asked War.

"The sea, far to the south; twenty moons I have walked."

"Why?"

"My grandfather told me to go, just before he died. I'd lived with him my whole life."

"How old are you?"

"Twenty summers...and you?"

"The same."

For some reason, War felt the urge to tell the hunter everything that had happened since the day he had found Rane in the woods on the slope of the valley. The tale occupied a good part of the afternoon. As War reached the point where he and Rane had been reunited, Rane appeared with the others and he shouted. Fen became aggressive and darted forward to stand between the stranger and War. Tara slipped into War's lap. The kitten ran up to the stranger.

"Rane! Have no fear. This is a Calen, a hunter; alone and lost."

Rane moved up quickly, assessing the stranger rapidly. He stood Fen down with a gesture of his hand and steadied himself before he spoke.

"I am Rane, a hunter. Forgive my actions; we rarely encounter any other hunters or travellers. You are welcome to share our fire and our meat."

War had already extended the invitation, but Calen accepted it graciously. The strangeness of his accent wasn't lost on Rane.

"You come from the far south. I know that sound from my youth."

"Yes, from the far south; twenty moons it has taken me to get here."

"Where are you going?"

"The mountains. War says that is where you are going too. I would be grateful for the companionship on the road, and I can hunt."

Rane looked at War, who, through Tara, saw his expression, seeking his agreement. War answered for them both.

"We would be happy for you to join us, Calen. With many mouths to feed, a hunter is especially welcome. We need to build up stocks. We will be lucky to get to the mountain before the snows and who knows what we find there."

Though he saw the sense of inviting the hunter to journey with them, War felt strangely uneasy, born out of the fact that he was practically helpless and now a burden when it came to feeding them. Rane looked happy, interested in the man's own tales and intrigued. War did not want to admit to the other feelings he had, that Calen was young and vital, more than equal, physically, to Rane, and maybe a rival for something other than friendship. Rane asked the question that War had been too uncomfortable to ask.

"Why do you not wear any clothes?"

"I never had any. In the south it is very hot; there was no need of them."

"That will change as we move north. The nights are already cooler."

"It will test my strength."

War was eager to ask Rane about the scouting trip and what, if anything, he had found.

"What did you find, Rane, on the path?"

"Something that will test all our strength. A gorge, twenty paces wide, but I could not see the bottom. It is like a knife cut across the land."

"Can we avoid it?"

"It stretched to the horizon in both directions."

"It is our test, but how will we pass?"

"I have some ideas. There are trees we could cut to make a bridge. We'll move on tomorrow and look upon it together."

They lit the fire and cooked, settling the animals for the evening and then readied themselves. Calen found a spot and lay down. Curled up with his knife in his hand, he fell asleep immediately, and deeply, judging by his breathing. It gave Rane and War a chance to speak of him.

"We need his skills and strength, War."

"I do not deny it. I am helpless and couldn't have defended myself if he had sought to harm me."

"Then he is another kind of gift."

War was sure that was true. However, he hadn't seen anything of Calen in any of the visions he'd had. Yet, it was as if the Goddess saw their plight and provided a solution, but it came as another kind of test. They had never had to share the path or their hearth. It had become all too easy to imagine they were the only hunters in the north, and the sharing of their bodies was easy and natural. Calen raised many doubts and questions. And both eyed him surreptitiously for he was magnificent, physically, and attractive; more lynx than wolf.

Rane and War lay together as normal. Fen was being protective and didn't move. Rane was soon asleep, weary from the journey. War rested his hand on Fen's head and watched, as Fen, who kept his eyes firmly fixed on Calen. War eventually dropped off too and his hand slipped from the wolf's head; his sleep was empty and comfortless.

In the morning, War woke up first. He could still hear Rane's gently and deep breaths that sounded like the sighs made by the trees on the afternoon up-draughts, especially those in the valley.

He sought Fen, who placed his head under the outstretched palm. When the curtain was lifted, War was presented with the sight of Calen watching him.

"Do you always sleep with Rane?"

"Yes, since we met. I have chosen him and he has chosen me."

War had deliberately skimmed over the details of their relationship during the telling of the tale of their journey so far.

"You are like two stags."

War smiled at the allusion. It was one they used themselves often, especially during the rut! That brought about the usual reaction and he could also feel Rane's manhood pressed against his thigh. He would have moved to start the fire to heat water for the infusion, but he felt reluctant for the stranger to see him aroused, despite the fact that the stranger appeared to have none of the same coyness. Calen’s manhood was engorged, but of no interest, seemingly, to the young man, unlike War, who prayed Fen wouldn't move off.

"Can you light the fire? It's easier if you have two hands for the task!"

The young man moved and his organ swayed with the heaviness there. Partly erect, it stood out from his body a little way and his arm brushed against it as he made the fire and searched for the pot and the water skin. Fen followed his actions closely, no longer so protective, but still wary. Rane woke and Fen moved, throwing War's sight into disarray. The wolf moved his head too quickly and the images came too fast. It made War feel sick and he breathed deeply to quell the nausea.

"War!"

"Rane, wake slowly. Calen has lighted the fire."

"I slept deeply and my dreams were tiring, more tiring than the trail yesterday."

Rane showed none of the same coyness as he scrambled out of the bed and rose to stretch. His manhood was heavy too, and like Calen, he ignored it and went off to find a place to relieve himself. Calen was busy with the fire and then squatted, apparently happy to wait for the water to boil. War was blind, Fen had run off with Rane and the others were playing or similarly running off to perform their bodily functions. Only the chick was still asleep.

"War...can I help you?"

“I wish to rise and relieve myself. I'll wait for Rane."

"I will help you."

War was staked by his emotions. Blindness enhanced his other senses: he heard nuances in the tone of a voice; he could pick out the animals and tell what they were doing. His fingertips could detect, and differentiate between, the individual grains in the stone.

"I'll wait for Rane..."

He knew that if he'd had eyes he would have averted them. This stranger was drawing something out of his body, a feeling, perhaps a question.

Rane returned.

"Rane, can you help me?"

War got up and he allowed Rane to guide him to the place where he had relieved himself.

"What is troubling you?"

"I do not know, Rane. Something has awoken, and I don't know if it is a good thing."

"Is it Calen?"

"I am drawn to him, and he draws something out of me that I am fighting to keep hidden. I cannot trust my judgement. It is like I am a child again, abandoned in the valley with no boots."

Rane heard the words and acknowledged some of them, and he was unsettled by them. War looked to Rane like a quarry he would never catch, however hard he tried.

They returned and shared the brew and started to get ready to leave for their joint survey of the crevice. Perhaps for the first time since the first day they had met, War had a sharp word for Rane, who'd been fussing with the packs.

"Rane! I am blind, not a child. I can do it!"

No sooner had the words left his mouth did he regret the outburst, and now he felt uncomfortable, feeling his actions being scrutinised by Calen. Rane shouldered his pack and called to Fen. The wolf lolloped over, but he was unsure if he was to walk with Rane or War.

"I will walk with Soma," War announced and the venom on his tongue frightened him.

They proceeded in silence for a while, however, each step lightened the mood and War felt his shoulders relax a little. When Rane turned War smiled at him. The smile was returned with apologetic eyes; eyes that yearned for reassurance. War smiled more broadly and gave that which Rane craved from him.

Calen brought up the rear and the kitten appeared to have adopted him. Tara trailed Fen, more and more looking to the wolf for his cues, except when there were eggs to liberate from unguarded nests!

Soma picked her way forward slowly and never wavered. The chick sat up in the makeshift nest atop War's pack and nothing escaped her eyes.

It had taken Rane until the sun was high the day before to reach the crevice so they had a few hours to go, and they were slower than he had been. They stopped twice to refresh themselves and reached the small plateau an hour after midday. It was as Rane had reported. The crevice was barely twenty paces wide, but the bottom was beyond anyone's sight. The scar stretched out in both directions to the horizon.

"There are trees we can cut to build a bridge," suggested Rane.

"They will take days to fell," countered War.

"Fewer than it will take to reach the end…if there is an end."

"We are three; the felling will be easier. However, they will need to be moved and positioned and I doubt even the three of us together could move even the smallest."

"Do you see a different way, Calen?" asked War.

Even though he couldn't see his face, War knew that Rane had frowned. Rane was suddenly struggling with an emotion he hadn't felt before. War's question to Calen, however sensible and innocent, boiled his blood with jealousy.

"There is no other way," Rane interjected, almost defiantly.

"Calen?" probed War.

"There is another way but it will take a little time to make the rope."

Both Rane and War were familiar with making and using bindings, but short lengths. In War's case, he used short length bindings to build the framework at the both the winter and summer camps in the valley. Often he'd used the creeper which had the cruel thorns that snagged against an unwary leg. Stripped of the thorns the creeper was strong and flexible, and it yielded sweet berries that stained his lips and fingers! The remembrance of the thorns was quickly replaced by the memory of the berries until he imagined his eyes looked like the black fruits, though the facets that covered the surface of his eyes were flat with sharp edges and appeared cruel, like the thorns. He had to shake his head to rid himself of the images.

Rane used nettle stems, split and soaked until the strong fibres came free; dried they made good strings for the bow when gut wasn't available. Often he used them to sew hides together. There were brambles and nettles in the vicinity.

"How will you use the rope?"

"If we make a piece long enough, able to be thrown across, and if we can snag it on something strong, one of us can get across, to secure it for the others."

"What of the animals?" asked War, now always fretful of their safety.

"We can carry them over in a basket, even Soma, she is not that big."

"What if the rope breaks?" asked Rane

"Then the one who ventured forth will probably die."

"Who volunteers to go?"

"The lightest of us has the best chance."

War knew that to be himself.

"I will do it, I am the lightest; just make the rope strong!"

The tension was unhelpful. Again their path was fraught with danger and dogged by a seemingly impossible hurdle. Yet, hadn't they come this far?

Night fell and the fire was lively and cloaked them in dancing, red-tinged shadows. For all his emotional turmoil, Rane needed War and release. At that moment, with doubt boiling like his seed, he had no other way to show War just how much he loved him. Calen lay down and closed his eyes, shuddering twice; he was snoring gently within seconds. Rane reached out to touch War and felt a need that was bruised and hurting, as confused as his own.

"War..."

War turned into him and buried his face in Rane's chest to cry a space for his emotions to turn. Need of one kind slowly turned to need of another. The heat of their skin, the musky scent that invoked a response in their loins, the urge to touch each other there, the search for the lips and the moist hot active tongue.

Their angst evaporated under caresses. War couldn't see, but it was dark anyway, and he knew his mate's body; the mounds of the chest that gave way to the plains of the stomach, the soft hair that demanded his fingers delve lower and the hot, hard shaft that throbbed in his hand. He felt his own sex rise up like a column of hot air, rising and expanding, falling back as rain, not gentle rain, big spatters that heralded a storm. Burgeoning clouds rolled in his chest, his heart was beating like the hail against the taut hides of the summer shelter, a deafening and relentless drumming.

"Rane..."

He couldn't frame another coherent word; words were superfluous in any event. Like storm clouds they moved into position, roiling, boiling until Rane struck like the lightening and growled as the thunder. His manhood was on fire, fanned by jealousy and fear; and needing to make a mark, to announce that War was his, and his alone. His savagery met no resistance. War needed the mark to remind him that Rane was his chosen mate; that Rane had found the stick and saved his life. Yet in the death of the storm, it was Calen's face that stared at him out of the black, with eyes that mirrored his own, white not black, his equal and opposite. Rane's bellows, muted on account of Calen, still rang out and echoed in the chasms, like drums.

After Rane had slipped into slumber, War lay still and listened. He didn't need to see that Calen was watching them. He could hear the strange hunter's heart and it was pounding.

Chapter Three - Precarious holds

War sat sipping the brew and Rane was off looking at the trees, still convinced that they offered the safest means to span the gorge. Calen was meditating. Tara was in War's lap and demanding to be fussed, itself unusual, being the most independent of the animals. He was being playfully boisterous and nipping at War's fingers. Then he settled and allowed War to cradle him and place his hand on his little dart shaped head, between his prominent ears. War received the sight of the fox and found Calen, directly in front of him, meditating.

Mesmerising and intoxicating, like fermented berries. The power barely contained within the stasis of the meditation pose. The body superbly sculpted and tanned very dark, like Tara; dark reddish brown.

He was sat cross-legged with his hands on his knees, head slightly inclined, body perfectly straight. War thought he looked like earth that had risen out of the ground. Feeling uncomfortable that he was staring at the hunter, he looked away by removing his hand from Tara's head, but his hand was drawn back. The sun was low and the shadows hid the well of Calen’s manhood that War fantasised was a tuber growing in the soil. The fact that he fantasised about it made him feel weak and somehow powerless; the hunter invaded his dreams as well as he waking sight.

Despite the loss of sight, he removed his hand from Tara's head completely and sat quietly, head inclined and practised the 'sound-sight' that Rane had used and perfected since he was a child. Rane saw sounds as colours which created shapes that he used to 'construct' an image of the landscape in his mind's eye. It allowed him to 'see' things that were hidden and too far for normal sight to pick out. It was especially valuable as a hunting tool and guided the arrow or the spear into the undergrowth with deadly accuracy.

War concentrated on a particular sound, the gurgle of a little spring that bubbled up not too far away from the camp. It was hard to block out the other sounds but eventually he managed it. He attempted, but probably more accurately allowed, the sound to form a colour, in this case, silver, and a shape, and in the case of the spring, a flat disc that had a domed centre.

Whenever he recalled 'real' images they obliterated the sound-sight. Pushing to one side the image of a 'real' spring, and he'd seen many, he slowly found his mind could construct an image of the spring in the colour of the sound he heard. It took a long time and was tiring, but if he could perfect it, he might not have to rely on the animals so much. Already, he could 'see' when his hand was barely touching Fen; just the tips of stray hairs were enough to transmit the image from the wolf. But, animals made poor helpers and often ran off without warning and the black would return, and it was a painful sensation, much like when it was lifted.

Having formed the image of the spring, his reverie was broken by Tara squirming.

"Be still, Tara!"

But his tone was far from angry; he was never angry with the animals. He must have woken Calen for he heard the sharp intake of breath that signalled that the hunter's meditation was over.

"I'm sorry if I disturbed you, Calen."

"You didn't; I had finished. I should help Rane assess our chances and we need to make a final decision. The sun is already midway to her zenith. And I feel cooler air under the warmth of her smile today."

"Yes, I do too."

Calen left to find Rane and discuss the chances of felling and moving the trees. War could hear their voices but not clearly enough to make out whole words. Only when they returned did he learn that they had agreed to try to fell the smallest tree and position it, before making the rope.

"It is the smallest but very solid. I believe we can move it, lift it and drop it over the crevice to form a bridge."

War heard Rane's confidence but knew him to be stubborn too, and, just like when he hunted, focused to the exclusion of everything else. War wasn't surprised that Calen had conceded.

"I will start to cut it; if we take turns it will go quicker," Rane added.

"Agreed," replied Calen and both had unwittingly excluded War from the decision.

"I could start to make the rope. If you bring me the creepers, I can strip them of their thorns by touch."

Even without sight he knew the hunters had stolen glances at each other.

"I will bring you the longest I can find, War," announced Rane.

"I just need my knife and piece of hide to grip the stem."

Work proceeded. Calen and Rane began cutting the tree and War stripped the creepers. Mid-point between noon and sunset, they flopped beside the campfire exhausted.

"It is hard work but we are half way there. I think now it might have been easy to dig the earth away and cut the roots," admitted Rane."

"If we decide to fell the others then that is how we should do it," proposed Calen.

"I have finished stripping the creepers. If you fell the trees, we'll have bindings to tie them together to make the bridge stronger."

"I need to rest for an hour before I can grip that axe anew."

"Calen; I will start to dig the soil away and assess the roots. If we dig enough away, it might fell itself."

"Give me the time it takes for the water to boil, Rane, no more. My muscles have not had to work so hard for many moons!"

Ciru came to War for petting. The kitten was the most difficult to work with because play was still uppermost in the little one's mind. Sitting still and staring didn't feature yet, though as a hunter the skill would be a useful one. War held him gently and stroked between his ears. Placing his hand lightly on the kitten's head, he was granted lynx sight, which was not so sharp at the fox's during the day, but slightly better at night. The kitten was watching Calen, who was stretched out on the ground on his back, hands behind his head, eyes closed. His manhood was visible, nestling snuggly between his thighs. It was partly engorged through exertion and the heat of the mid-afternoon.

War stared with Ciru, who, typically, got bored and scampered away. Rather than fumble his way through some simple task, he continued to sit and concentrated on the prostrated form that lay ten paces from him. He could hear Calen's breathing, so he attempted sound-sight. Immediately he knew something was different because the colour was almost indescribable, a blue that incised his mind like a knife. The shape didn't emerge; it was cut out of the blackness, which fell away like a piece of thin hide. The colour was not solid but like the curtain of water that falls over the cascade. The shape moved and War imagined Calen must have pulled one of his arms down from behind his head and was now resting it across his stomach. At the same time, he'd drawn one leg up to place the sole of his foot flat on the ground and had turned slightly, in War’s direction.

War was transfixed until two white dots appeared in the 'face' and he knew Calen must have opened his eyes. Brighter than sunlight, they burned into him. He couldn't escape them and he repeatedly failed to relinquish his grip on the sound-sight. Invaded, he began to panic. The dots disappeared and released him. He felt sick and scrambled to the edge of the camp to heave up his guts. Rane ran back.

"War! What is wrong?"

"I...don't know...I was practising sound-sight and it became too strong for me."

"That has happened to me; it is a good sign. It means you are becoming more skilled. The night I brought down the owl with my bow, I was sick."

These words reassured War and he made his way back to the fire-side, to sip some water. He called for Fen and was granted wolf sight. The 'real' images that flooded his brain assuaged the stinging; it was as if the image of Calen had physically cut him. Fen was watching buzzards above them and it was soothing, almost hypnotic to follow his eyes as he watched them dive bomb and then rise on thermals in a series of spirals until, reaching the limit of the up-draught, they plummeted again. Hypnotic and sleep inducing and he didn't realise he had fallen asleep until Rane gently shook his shoulder to offer him food.

"Rane!" he panicked.

"I am here, War, you were asleep. Have something to eat."

"Thank you."

Despite feeling calmer, he sensed that he was enjoying a brief reprieve. Forces pressed at the edges of his 'self' and it took some effort to repel them. A hunter that had become the hunted. For the first time since he had accepted the amulet from the old man, he truly regretted leaving the valley.

"I will never find peace until I reach the cavern. Yet this thing is like the healthy stag brought down only to find that when its belly is slit open it is full of maggots," he told himself.

Within minutes of finishing his food he was asleep again and Rane settled him down and covered him, kissing his cheek.

"I wish I could carry some of his burden."

"You do, Rane; he needs you. He would not have survived this long without you."

Rane paused, forming questions.

"Why did your grandfather send you away?"

"He said I would find what I was looking for."

"Answers?"

"Perhaps...guidance."

"Did you always live alone, you and your grandfather?"

"Yes. I never saw another human until I started the journey."

"How did you know which way to go?"

"My grandfather said I should walk with the sun on my right in the morning and on my left in the afternoon. When the sun set I should lie down and wait until the dawn before starting out again."

"Due north."

"Yes; to the mountain."

"War told you what we seek."

"Yes; he showed me the drawing on his skin, the amulet and the map stick. He said you have a stone that you found in the lynx's cave."

"Yes. Do you want to see it?"

"Yes; I would like to see it."

Rane rummaged in his pack for the stone that he had found in the Lynx's cave. They had found it on the floor of the cave, at the junction of the floor and the wall, at the base of the drawing they found there. The same drawing that adorned the old man's chest and now War's.

He held it up and then handed it to Calen, who took it from him and immediately examined it very closely.

"Perhaps it is a piece of the star that is under the mountain in the sea of flames."

"Someone must have carried it to the cave..."

"And painted the image on the wall. The old man?"

"He didn't say he had been to the mountain, but he had the tattoo and the amulet. It could be a piece of the star."

"What of the map stick?"

"The path leads to the mountain."

"Left by War's tribe when he was abandoned? To be found when he was ready to leave; his guide back to his home?"

"For what reason?"

"The answer is under the mountain."

"And the animals?"

"Guides and protectors; gifts from the Goddess."

"What of his blindness?"

"He isn't blind; his sight has...changed. To see things we cannot."

"Then it is even more important that we reach the mountain. We must bridge the gorge."

"Tomorrow, the tree will fall."

With that, Calen handed back the stone and lay down to sleep, leaving Rane sat in the midst of the camp, and he'd never felt more alone. War was receding from him, disappearing into the night, fading. In his mind, the edges of his picture of War were becoming less distinct, crumbling away. Calen unsettled him, a shadow that circled the camp like a wolf that was waiting for the right moment to leap and tear out his throat. He put his hand to his throat automatically and found it difficult to swallow. He slept with Fen in his arms, clinging to the wolf like a child to its mother.

The animals slept soundly.

The day had the taste of the day that would decide the future. It remained unvoiced but the bustle of Calen and Rane told War that it was time to move forward. He'd woken in the night shivering. Rane had not been by his side; Tara had snuggled into his chest. The fox's heat quelled the shivers and quietened his heart that had both raced and then almost stopped.

Calen and Rane began by digging away more of the earth and within an hour they had exposed the tap root and had smashed their way through it. The tracery of roots that held the tree strained with the load now placed upon them. Within another hour the tree crashed to the ground, throwing up a cloud of dust that even War could taste from a hundred paces away. The sound echoed down the chasm and sent birds screeching into the sky.

The branches of the tree prevented it from being rolled to the edge of the crevice. Rane and Calen hacked them off and it took until midday before they could move the trunk, which they did between them. Exhausted, running with sweat, they collapsed at the fire side. War had brewed infusion and cooked some meat, using Soma who was content to remain at his side. The others had dived into the hole left by the tree. The chick stayed with War, sitting on his shoulder. She remained vigilant, almost as if she was afraid that the uprooted tree had released something.

"Once the tree has been turned, and the end secured, we will try to lift it up and hope that it falls across the chasm. We will need you, War," advised Rane.

"I am ready to help."

Fed and watered they returned to the tree and managed to turn it so that the root ball was at the edge of the chasm. The hunters had estimated that if they could raise it and then let it fall across the gap, it would form a bridge, with sufficient trunk, about the height of a man, left resting on the ground either side. Two good strides before the abyss, twenty across the chasm and two the other side to safety. The biggest risk at this point was that the tree would snap when it fell to the ground. When they lifted it, to test the weight, it was not too heavy. But, as they worked their way along the trunk, pushing it upwards, it became increasingly heavy. The root end also provided some resistance as it turned and it was in danger of pushing out the stakes that stopped it from slipping forward and over the edge.

There came a point when it appeared that their combined efforts would not be enough to raise the tree upright. From somewhere they each grabbed ounces of strength and pushed as if their lives literally depended on it. The tree rose by agonising degrees until it stood upright again. There was no time to check anything and once the tree had started to topple, all Rane and Calen could do was watch and hope that it hit the other side squarely and didn't snap as it hit the ground. It hit the ground and bounced, sending tremors through their feet.

They cried out in jubilation. It hadn't snapped and now they had a bridge across the chasm; but would it bear their weight? Within seconds, Tara and Ciru darted across, using the deeply furrowed bark to gain purchase on the trunk that was maybe as wide as the span of two splayed hands, the tips of the thumbs touching.

Rane called them back but they ran into the scrub the other side. Fen remained with Rane and Soma with War. Calen drove stakes into the ground either side of the trunk to stop it from rolling.

"I say we attempt to cross tomorrow. I am too tired to trust my feet or hands."

"Agreed."

"Agreed."

"What of the animals?" Calen asked.

"They will come back when they're hungry," War assured him.

They fell in heaps at the fire side and had barely the strength to light it. They burned the branches that were cloaked in greenery and they all bathed in the pungent smoke of the pine, cleansing away the doubt and the rivalry. That said, Rane quietly marked up his victory over Calen's idea of simply making a rope. The victory was short lived when War suggested that the first across take the rope with them to provide security against falling. Only that the idea had come from War was enough to appease Rane and prevent his crest from falling like the tree.

Physically tired and tested to the limit of their strength, with the cries of joy still ringing in their ears, a kind of peace descended on the camp as the sun set. For the first time all three were relaxed since Calen had arrived.

"Why have you chosen each other?" Calen asked, observing the pair of hunters from his side of the fire.

Rane assumed he meant, 'why have you chosen each other instead of female mates?', "At the beginning, we only had each other. But my feelings grew, and even when there was a choice, I still chose War. I love him, if I know what that means."

"What does it mean?"

"It means that I want to be with him, protect him and share my body with him, like the men and women of my tribe that were mated."

"War?"

"I chose Rane, in the same way that he chose me. At first I thought of us as the young stags that have no mates that couple with each other out of a desperate need. I too, when there was another choice, still chose Rane, and if I know what love is, it is to be with him, protect him and share all I have with him."

"You met people on the path, Calen; did you not feel that way about someone?"

"I think the journey blinds me to everything else. I felt no connection to any man or woman."

"Then I think myself fortunate that the path has not blinded me," proposed Rane.

"I would not have taken the path without Rane. I trust him and have faith in his judgement; that too must be part of love," offered War.

"You share your bodies..."

"It is natural. War touches me in places I cannot reach and love springs forth like a river from under the rocks he moves."

War had never heard Rane describe his feelings in that way before. His heart swelled upon hearing it.

"When we share, I am released and flow like the river, racing through the high-sided gorge and over the rapids, falling in cascades into the pool, which is deep and like a soul."

Rane had never heard words like those; not even in tribal songs or stories that spoke of love and brotherhood. He felt tears welling in his eyes. He turned and placed a kiss on War's lips. In moving, the tears fell and wetted War's cheek, to which War added his own.

"I want to share my body with you, so I can feel as you."

The words hung in the air like lazy smoke from the fire. The question of exclusivity had never been broached, mainly because the journey and its promises inured them from everything else. Many times both felt that they were the only souls left in the world.

Young stags coupled with many of their brethren, but it was a blind, desperate urge that overrode what Rane and War now both recognised as love; that existed, could only exist, between two souls that had united as they.

"When we were working to fell the tree, I caught the scent of sweat on your body and it was like food when you are hungry. I saw your muscles straining and the power in them compelled me to touch them. I resisted but it was difficult."

War and Rane shifted slightly, it unlocked a feeling, one they'd felt towards each other many times in similar circumstances. The pressure of the feeling was moving the logs and rocks that dammed up other feelings, sensations, which were new; amongst them, the need to be connected with others. Had they been in a tribe, the need would have probably been wrought with their brothers' needs in the hunters' fellowship; an impulse denied them both until now.

"Will you share with me?"

Simultaneously, they held out their hands to invite Calen to their side of the fire. It was symbolic in its own way. Calen stood up and stepped over the quiet embers to kneel in front of them, between the two pairs of out-stretched legs, his knees roughly level with their own. He grasped the offered hand of each with his own and they held each other's free hand to form a circle. It was the first time that either Rane or War had touched him. His hands were strong and the grip was firm. The communion lasted for some minutes and Calen and Rane both closed their eyes. Calen drew their hands up to his face and placed them on his cheeks, overlaying theirs with his own, exerting some pressure. Then he turned his head and kissed, alternately, their palms, after which he let his own hands fall to his sides.

"Kneel in front of Calen, War, and I will kneel behind you, and guide your hands."

War complied and when Rane was behind him, kneeling either side of his legs, Rane reached through under his arms and grasped his wrists. War allowed Rane to move his hands over Calen's chest. He let out a short nervous laugh. The skin was smooth but the muscles, and the power humming in them, created an image of an animal, a mountain lion, in his mind; a vital, forceful but restrained potency. He felt the hard buds under his fingertips and stopped to explore them a little.

"They are like yours, Rane," he suggested.

Rane had pressed himself up closer against War, kissing his shoulder as he watched over it. His sex began to swell and push against War's buttocks, finding the valley eager to grip him. Rane dropped his hands from War's and loosely encircled his lover around the waist. War continued to explore unaided and brushed his fingertips down Calen's chest to the first ridge of his stomach, which was like Rane's but more deeply grooved. Calen exhaled forcibly, drew in another breath quickly through his mouth and then exhaled gently. The air fanned War's chest and made him shudder, causing Rane to grip him a little tighter and press a little harder. From his vantage point, Rane could see that Calen's organ had grown and was rising up. He wanted to see War touch it. His own hands delved to grasp War's shaft that was rock hard.

War stroked the stomach under his fingertips, along the grooves, feeling the indentation of Calen's navel.

It made Calen laugh, "Your fingers are like feathers..."

War continued his downward journey, traversing the plains until he reached the nest of curls. They were like the shavings of wood that tumbled at Rane's feet when he worked an arrow shaft, as he straightened and smoothed it before testing the weight ahead of fitting the point and the flight. The hair was thick and luxurious and he curled it around his fingers, crawling through it towards the base of the shaft. The shaft grew out of the nest like a branch from the mossy trunk of a tree, hard and straight. He instinctively clutched it, one hand in front of the other, his fingers and palms cupped to support it, his thumbs resting on the flatter top side. Hard, hot and throbbing; there was no sensation like it, save the one when he gripped Rane's. Rane was grinding his hips into him, rubbing his manhood over the sensitive entrance to his channel.

"Lean forward," Rane ordered, and in leaning forward, Calen leaned back a little, raising his hips. As natural as any act they had performed themselves, War leaned further and curled over to take the engorged manhood into his mouth. Rane gripped War’s hips, lifting them up and back slightly, to align himself, then he pushed in, slowly and steadily until he was completely buried. He leaned forward and Calen joined him so that their lips touched, tongues springing like startled fawns into each other's mouth.

War was overcome with sensations. The scent was familiar but stronger; raw earth, pine sap, sweat. And it was sweeter, like the milk from the stem of the yellow headed flower that grew in profusion in the valley. The head, like a fist in his mouth, tasted of sweat, earth and salt but the taste melted to honey sweetness. The ridge around the head was thick and licking it elicited growls from Calen, who spasmed and in so doing, thrust a little. War took as much as he could without gagging. He had one hand on the ground to steady himself and with the other he held the hot, heavy sack that didn't rise up into a furry ball like a hedgehog like Rane's often did. Because it hung low he could feel knots and fibres beneath the skin that was soft like a pelt.

Calen spasmed and bucked, still joined with Rane. Rane was thrusting slowly, his hands resting on War's shoulders for support. He gripped tightly and dug in his nails. Rane pulled back to deepen the thrust and Calen placed his hands on War's upper back, rubbing gently, moving down towards the base of the spine. Reaching forward he was able to reach Rane's hips and he held on to them, feeling the muscles flex as Rane drove forward and clenched.

Calen then allowed his hands to fall away and he placed them on War's head, lightly at first but an urgency was rising in his loins and he began to thrust into War's mouth deeper and more quickly, panting like a wolf after the chase. War relinquished his hold on Calen's sack and pushed his hand further between the sculpted thighs to find the edge of the tight entrance. Calen gasped and he pushed more forcibly down on War’s head to bury his manhood deeper, overcome with the desire to release something, to abandon control, to lose himself in the clouds of his arousal that rose like a flock of birds from the surface of the lagoons near his home.

Rane's bellow, which was like the stag's, heralded his release. Calen had no control now; abandoning himself to the forces that he did not know, he bucked wildly and his cries joined Rane's and were the echo of them. War was transfixed, penetrated by both hunters whose ribbons of seed entered his body like lightning bolts, which met, tip to tip, and joined; a seam of searing hot, vital, milky white liquid crystal, which found a passageway through his body like the quartz in the duller stone.

Rane and Calen slumped, breathing heavily; their bodies glistening in the light of the fire; eyes blazing like the stars of a newly born constellation. War found himself momentarily alone on his hands and knees.

Just as he was about to move he felt two pairs of hands pulling him down to lie between the bodies of the two hunters. His own arousal had subsided. Despite being held in the hot and elastic vice of the two bodies, he knew that Rane and Calen had found their true mate. He, War, the flux that held the fragile and as yet undeclared union; the shell that protected the embryo within.

Chapter Four - Separate paths

Over the morning brew it was agreed that Calen would venture over the bridge first.

"I am the heaviest. If it bears my weight, it will bear yours. I will carry Soma; the others can make their own way across."

"How will you cross? If the trunk rolls, it will throw you off."

"I trust my feet. I will have the rope around my waist. Once I am on the other side I will stake the other end to prevent it from rolling. If I secure the rope at waist height, it will serve to steady you."

War was becoming increasingly concerned about crossing. He would have to cross blind. They did not trust the trunk to bear the weight of two, so he had to make the crossing alone.

Calen urged them to get ready. Rane was similarly concerned for War and was reluctantly getting their gear together. Tara and Ciru ran across as they had the day before. Fen waited for the command from Rane.

"Go, Fen!"

The wolf lolloped across.

Calen knotted the rope around his waist and picked up Soma, placing her around his neck, holding her securely by clasping one pair of legs in one hand and one pair in the other, bringing his hands together over the centre of his chest. Rane and War braced the trunk to ensure that it didn't roll as he proceeded. He stepped up and resettled Soma, and then took the two paces to the edge of the chasm.

"It feels solid."

He took four or five paces out from the edge and the tree began to bounce a little; he stopped and waited for the motion to subside. As he moved forward the rope was pulled across. Rane kept it from snagging, which could have caused Calen to stumble. He reached halfway and the tree was sagging, but no one heard the tell-tale creaks or groans that might indicate that it was about to snap. The further he went the more difficult it became. The trunk narrowed a little and bounced more, increasing the risk of rolling and snapping. The last four steps to the safety of the other side took longer than the previous twenty.

He had crossed and it gave Rane confidence. War breathed out in relief but it didn't quell his own anxiety.

"Rane; take it slower…wait until I have secured the rope,” called over Calen.

Rane also had a heavy pack and a spear to carry. The rope certainly helped to steady him, but it would bear no real weight when it came to it. The deeply grooved bark was helpful and Calen recommended that he cross bare-foot to take advantage of it. The hide soles of the boots were smooth and afforded no grip, though the bark was rough and the occasional sharp intake of breath indicated a splinter or two to remove later.

Calen had staked the other end of the tree to stop it from rolling and he stood on the end to reduce the bouncing that became worse as Rane approached the centre of the bridge. One pace beyond the centre point and the tree bounced wildly. Rane bent his knees to absorb the energy and for a heart stopping second was unable to take a step forward and all his weight was on his forward knee.

Closing his eyes helped to quell the nausea of bouncing above the void. He tried to ignore the wound beneath him but the inky black somehow called to him. It pulled energy through his feet and when he made the other side he was so weak he stumbled and fell, unable to get up for minutes.

War had a smaller pack and the eagle. Before he ventured across he tried to walk with one hand on her head as she nestled in the sling, to give him some degree of sight, but she turned her head sharply without warning and the disorientation was liable to throw him off the log. He used her sight to position himself at the beginning and relinquished his hold on her, taking two paces forward, knowing that the next step carried him over the edge. Perhaps often being blind and doing things around the camp had prepared him for the trial, and it was much easier than he imagined. He could literally hear Rane's and Calen's thoughts, willing him on.

When the two hunters had felled the tree, they had first tried to cut it down. When Rane had suggested digging out the roots, the axe was abandoned. The cut into the trunk was not that deep; perhaps it just reached the middle. As things were, the cut was halfway between the base of the tree and the edge of the abyss.

When War reached the mid-point, despite the fact that both Rane and Calen were standing on the end, the trunk bounced. War stopped and waited for the worst of the motion to subside, using the opportunity to breathe steadily, to quieten his heart that was racing. As he took the next step, the trunk cracked, at the site of the axe cuts. Sufficient length of trunk remained on the ground on that side to support his weight, but, the broken end was free of the stakes that stopped the log from rolling. Nothing happened for two or three paces, then the log began to roll, just a little, and it upset War's balance. He was unable to compensate quickly enough, and being blind, he stepped wrong and increased the speed of the roll. Before he could correct the error he felt his foot slipping away from him. He did the only thing he could think of and that was to sit down, with one leg either side of the trunk, which then stopped rolling. He was eight paces from the other end. He knew he would not be able to stand up for fear of the trunk rolling again and now he would need to shuffle forward using his hands to lever himself forward. But, with nothing beneath his feet to brace himself against, he had to 'bounce' along, like a frog hopping. His 'bounce' started the log to quiver. The constant movement of the trunk was eroding the edge of the chasm and as stones shifted so the tree moved and each 'bounce' just increased the risk that the edge would give way completely.

Four walking paces remained between War and the two pairs of hands that waited to haul him to safety.

A sharp jolt caused him to freeze.

"The edge will give way soon; grab the rope, War," urged Rane.

War reached out to his right, but not high enough.

"Higher!" the hunters cried in unison.

War raised his hand and felt the creeper touch his forearm. He bent his arm to curl it over the rope and bring it within reach of his outstretched fingers.

Within half a heartbeat of grasping the rope, the log slipped away from beneath him. For a second he was suspended from the rope, but then it broke away from its anchorage and he swung forward and hit the wall of the gorge. The knock forced the air from his lungs.

"Hold fast, War; we will haul you up!" screamed Rane, as he watched War struggling to grasp the rope with his free hand that was encumbered by the sling.

All would have gone better had the eagle not started to move in the confines of the space between War's body and the wall of the gorge. Thus confined, she panicked and inadvertently scratched War deeply down his side. His cry was voiceless as his lungs had not yet re-filled with air. The chick struggled again and the pain of the talons cutting into his flesh made him lose some of the power in his grip. His head was swimming. A sudden jolt, caused by the Rane and Calen's first haul, actually helped him to regain control and his grip. Feeling confident he swung up his other hand to grab the creeper. He did, and gripped it firmly. He had been responsible for stripping the creeper of the lethal thorns that could rip through hide. As he gripped, he felt the sting of the thorn that was pressed against his palm. The wound was not serious but it bled and made the creeper slippery.

Calen and Rane hauled and War was within one pace of the edge. He couldn't see the edge or the faces of Rane and Calen that were criss-crossed with fear, the strain of holding him and the realisation that the sharp stony edge would soon weaken the rope enough to snap it.

"One more haul, War; that's all!"

They pulled too quickly and literally pulled the rope through War's hands, burning his palms; lacerating one of them as the thorn was drawn across it like the sharpest knife.

Involuntarily he lost his grip, then, immediately aware that he had let go, he vainly tried to recapture the creeper. It snapped under the strain. Rane and Calen fell back and War, with the eagle chick, fell into the void. His scream could be heard for many heartbeats as it echoed along the crevice; 'RANE!', repeated over and over until the black, soul stripping emptiness cut off the sound, as if night had fallen into day within the blinking of an eye.

Chapter Five - First reaction

In falling back, Rane and Calen had been spared the sight of War's descent into the abyss. By the time they had righted themselves and scrambled forward to peer over the edge, there was nothing to see.

War's cry was chased by Rane's but it was a fruitless hunt. Calen pulled him back in the end, afraid that Rane was going throw himself over the edge. However, grief was held at bay by shock for the time being.

"He was so close. I do not believe his has fallen. Tell me it is a cruel trick of the light or I sleep and dream this mishap..."

"Rane; he is gone."

"How can it be true? We were parted and reunited once…we will be again."

"I hope beyond all hope that you are reunited again; but it will not be in this life."

"Somehow Quinha will save them."

In truth, Rane was talking to himself, giving vent to his thoughts that were like the cruel thorns of the creeper, lacerating his mind; his grief, the blood running from his eyes as tears, hot and stinging tears that blinded him, but did not silence his sobs, and more than that, amplified them and he wailed until, exhausted, he slumped on the ground.

The animals stood in a group, unaffected, apparently waiting for the journey to continue, as if the loss was anticipated, even necessary; or perhaps they foresaw a reunion and were impatient to get there. Calen made a fire. Rane was in no condition to walk on. The weather changed unexpectedly and a squall blew up and drenched them in seconds. The wind chilled them to the bone and blew out the fire.

"He is lost."

Calen had no words to counter the claim.

Once the squall had blown over they re-lit the fire and dried themselves. Calen was shivering.

"You will need clothes or you risk falling ill like War in the winter we shared. He..."

Rane faltered. All his thoughts were dominated by War: every smile, every kiss, every touch and every time they had shared their bodies flashed before his eyes. The images fell away like snowflakes caught on a stiff breeze; collecting in the swirling breathes of the col and driven north. North, where they were heading; to the mountain.

"Will you continue, Rane?"

"Yes; it is still my plan to find the cavern and look upon the sea and star. I have to try to understand what they are; what they mean."

"I will go with you. I have no other path..."

"I will find you something to wear and make you boots. War could smell the snows. We have many good days still to come, but we are further north than the valley. It won't be long before the winds change."

"Do you have the map stick?"

"Yes. We lightened War's pack for the crossing so I took everything save the amulet he held in his hand and his normal gear."

"He survived the fall once..."

Rane was reminded of the separation that was barely ten days behind them; how quickly they had forgotten the pain of that! Then, he'd had hope; not so now. There was something final and unnatural about the loss this time. Even if he found War, he knew War would be unalterably changed forever.

"I need to be alone."

Rane moved to the edge of the chasm whilst Calen made camp for the night and then Calen wandered off with the animals to give Rane his space.

Rane practised 'sound-sight', focusing his efforts into the chasm. The total absence of colour, and therefore any discernible shape, was more frightening than death. The black was blacker than his mind's canvas; a scar across the void; a rent in the night sky.

When he threw a stone or stick into the void he only 'saw' it for a second before the emptiness enveloped it. A hungry mouth with an insatiable appetite. His only comfort, if it could be called that, was that War had probably not seen the end if there was an end. His life extinguished like a spark sent up by the fire; born, raised and gone within one blink of his eye; one beat of his heart.

"You were like the spear in my hand; the flight of the arrow resting against my cheek; you were the cup I lifted to my lips. You were the pelt I slept beneath; the hide of my shirt."

When Rane came back to the fire, Calen was cooking and tending to the needs of the animals. Rane caught himself before he said, "War; I shall hunt with Fen tomorrow."

Calen looked up at him, smiling reassuringly, compassionately and handed him cooked meat on a skewer. Rane accepted it with thanks and sat down.

"War believed the map stick had been left in the valley by his tribe for him to find when he was ready. It would guide him back to them and his questions would be answered. I encouraged him to leave; he would not have done so by himself; not at that time. Perhaps I was wrong and it was too soon. He nearly died at the river. He fell into the cavern beneath the causeway; he lost his sight. These things tell me it was not his time to walk this path and for that I am truly sorry."

"You did not kill him, Rane. He was taken by the Goddess to serve her purposes...Quinha is with him; the most keenly sighted of the animals. That was not by chance; the eagle did not settle with you or I."

"I chose him. I cannot dismiss him like the arrow I do not want to fit to my bow any longer because the weight feels wrong, though it had always been my most trusted flight."

"The spear once thrown…the arrow once loosened makes its own way to the target."

Rane contemplated the words and felt something shift.

"We need to hunt tomorrow and I will make you some boots."

When it came to the time to sleep, Rane curled up with Fen, leaving Calen to his own devices. Calen wrapped himself in a hide for the first time and lay with Ciru and Tara tucked into his chest and Soma at his feet.

Chapter Six - Moving forward

The chill of the early morning, no longer kept at bay by the heat of two bodies pressed close together under a pelt, forced Rane and Calen to get up and start the preparations for the day with little ceremony. They lit a fire, brewed up and warmed themselves. Rane found coverings for Calen, but they were too small. In the end, Calen wrapped a hide around his waist, belting it with some of the salvaged rope. Rane found a pelt Calen could wear around his shoulders.

"I'll make you the boots when we get back. We should go soon. We can use the heat of the sun to dry the meat and the hide; the days shorten."

Tara ran off as was his want. Ciru scampered about, uninterested in the men. Soma wandered off to find something to eat but stayed close to the camp. Fen never left Rane's side.

The terrain was difficult hunting ground; loose and steep. There wasn't much vegetation to encourage grazers; but no grazers meant no predators.

After a long trek they came across a plateau that offered some prospects. There was a small lake that might tempt a thirsty stag. Fen was alert but calm, much like Rane. Calen was less experienced and made too much noise which caused Rane to loosen a sharp word. The command had barely left his lips when they all saw the movement, directly ahead; as yet the prey was hidden in shadows. Rane crouched down and Calen followed suit; Fen remained poised by Rane's side for the command to circle and drive the quarry onto Rane's spear. Rane had seen many magnificent beasts on this journey; none were as magnificent as the beast that emerged from the shadows to drink at the edge of the lake. Lynx were rare, lions rarer still. Its jaws could crush bone; quick as lightening; claws so sharp they could slice a man in half. The power flowing along its flanks was mesmerising, paralysing.

Rane was unsure; a rarity in itself. The spear looked puny in his hand and the arrows mere twigs. Rane's inaction threatened to deny them the prize as the beast lapped at the edge of the water and in a few more seconds the cat would be gone. It had ideas of its own! Catching a scent it looked up and held them in its gaze. Rane was sure he saw the eyes refocus. It moved, unafraid, supremely confident in its power and authority. Still Rane hesitated; unhappy to send Fen off, certain he would be consigning the wolf to certain death. Calen shifted, nervous and unsure of Rane's tactics. When the cat broke into a slow run, Rane had to decide whether he engaged or retreated; not even sure if that choice really existed.

Before Rane had chance to think, Fen darted off to the side. It drew the cat off and it presented a flank. Rane instantly let the arrow fly. The point made contact but lacked sufficient force to penetrate deep enough to be fatal. Nevertheless, the cat faltered for a moment. Calen had War's spear and he drew it back, ready to throw.

"Not yet...you have one chance," cautioned Rane.

Fen doubled back across the lion's path. It appeared to anger the beast which, distracted by the wolf, forgot the hunters who both let their spears fly. Calen's strength was formidable and his spear, which had hit dead centre of the beast's side, was buried deep. Rane's hit further back, nearer the hip. The beast went down, tumbling, and in so doing, broke both shafts. The hunters moved forward. Fen harried the beast that was still capable of killing them all. Both Rane and Calen drew their knives. Mis-judging the beast's speed of reaction, Fen moved within the sphere of its front paws and received a swipe that sent the wolf spinning away, blood already spewing from the wound, painting his coat red. Rane ran, his blood boiling.

"Use your bow, Rane!" screamed Calen, sure that Rane was going to grapple the beast to the death; blind to the danger.

Rane stopped and composed himself; he didn't have long. Despite the spear tips buried in its flank, the lion was readying itself for the final assault. Rane whipped an arrow into the bow and cocked it, and then waited. Just as Calen was going to question his delay, he let the arrow fly. The cat leaped at the same time. A desperate lunge and the shaft entered its chest and pierced its heart. The beast landed at Rane's feet. His joy was short lived when he heard Fen's cry.

"Make sure it's dead. I must tend to Fen," he commanded.

Calen slit its throat and bound its feet to carry it back to the fire. Rane ran to Fen who was lying on his side, bleeding profusely from a wound along his flank.

"You have no more sense than me! This wound is not deep but it needs to be cleaned."

Rane tore off his shirt and cut it into strips, binding the wound to stop the bleeding. Fen was trying to lick his hands, "Be still, Fen. You can't walk and I can't carry you that far."

He made a sling from the remains of the shirt. Fen was heavy but Calen carried him easily. They had the cat slung beneath a pole and carried it between them. The terrain was no more forgiving than it had been that morning but success gave them more spirit. When they returned to the camp, the animals harried them and especially Fen, whom the men placed carefully by the fire, which they lit and banked. Rane wanted to bathe the wound and clean it. Calen tended to the cat and pretty soon had the pelt off and as soon as the fire was lively he set up the drying frame. Rane bathed Fen's wound with an infusion of herbs to draw out the infection and prevent a fever.

"This pelt will serve me," announced Calen.

"It is yours," said Rane quietly.

"What troubles you, Rane? Fen will recover."

"Of that I have no doubt; will I?"

Calen knew what ailed him. The loss of War of course hit hard. The journey had been as much about them as the map and the cavern. There was a choice about the journey, and there was a choice about letting War go. Rane didn't struggle with that choice; it was that he didn't know how to grieve. His love was so new and so fresh that it felt like a kind of sacrilege. Burying the bloom before the seeds had ripened; what would grow? Nothing now.

"You cannot hold onto the pain forever, Rane."

"I loved him."

Fen slept. The healing herbs that Rane had chosen had a strong effect. He made Calen inhale the vapours from the bowl too, before inhaling them himself. It deadened the pain. The night was noticeably cooler and banking the fire signalled that the chills would soon come. Rane just hated the thought of the damp and the rains. He settled the animals and made sure that Fen was comfortable. He lifted and held the wolf's head in his hands and pressed his lips to the eyelids that were so soft.

"Sleep well hunter."

Rane was getting ready himself, barely paying attention to the tasks that he did by rote. Settling to sleep under his hide and pelt he glanced at Calen. The hunter was rolled in his hide and close to the fire, but not asleep. Rane thought he was meditating on the flames. Rane did that sometimes, to seek answers to difficult questions.

Tara had run off and Ciru had chosen to sleep with Fen, balled up under his chin. Soma lay at Calen's feet.

Rane meditated on the flames hoping they would lull him off to sleep. The dancing flames and their light filled his sphere of vision; everything else receded from his view. Perhaps it was the vapours of the brew, and the hypnotic effect of the flames, he didn't know, but he felt himself move out of time and space. He rose and took off into the night sky like a bird, an owl, like the one he'd killed for his grandfather.

Soaring on silent wings he rode the waves of air that came out of the north, feeling it ruffle his chest feathers. Below him were hundreds of camp fires, least, he guessed they were camp fires, but that didn't make any sense. He swooped down to investigate. A cacophony of sounds assaulted his ears and made him very afraid.

He woke with a start and found himself by the fire. Judging by the height of the flames and the heat he had been asleep for only a few moments. Calen was now asleep; only he remained awake. It took a long time to slow his racing heart beat that pounded in his chest and to unlock his limbs that were held rigid by fear.

Later, still unable to sleep, he got up and banked the fire, checking on Fen who was breathing steadily. He wrapped his hide around himself and moved to the edge of the light of the fire and stepped one pace beyond to envelope himself in the cloak of darkness that felt safer, more secure, than the light. He felt cold quickly once out of the radius of the camp and turned to go back.

"Rane..."

The voice carried both the need to be held and to hold.

He moved slowly to his side of the fire and picked up his hide and pelt. Dragging them, he crawled to Calen's side and laid them out between the fire and the hunter. Unable to look at the flames he rolled into the arms of the hunter and buried his head in the broad chest and allowed the arms to wrap him tight and draw him in. Now he slept, and his dream was filled with the vision of the seeds of the yellow flower that turned white, which got blown away by the softest breeze.

The chill of the morning was held at bay and he couldn't move, finding the heat of Calen's body too inviting to cast away for the poor substitute of the campfire. It was before dawn and he sensed it would be the last before they woke to the dripping damp and the sight of their breath making clouds. This day all things stood on the edge of the chasm.

Calen was still asleep and snoring gently. Rane had never been so close to him. Even when they had shared and slept as three, War had been between them. Now his lips were touching the skin of the chest that rose and fell steadily. He closed his eyes and listened to the beating heart within and practised 'sound-sight'. Like War he saw the colour as a sheet of water falling like the cascade. The shape of the beating heart was like his clenched fist and it pulsed, not that he understood its function, beyond the fact that it was vital for life. The sight was mesmerising. Like War he couldn't break the connection that was now forged.

Afraid or unable to break the connection he remained tethered to the vision until he felt a hand brush against his cheek.

The movement had entered the orb of the vision and seemed to him to be like the bird that hunted the streams; the bird with the dazzling plumage. The scintillating colours of the bird that dived though the curtain of the waters of the cascade felt somehow comforting and safe.

The hand brushed against his cheek again and he sensed that he was lifting his chin and perhaps through need or some deep seated desire, he parted his lips slightly and felt the pressure of Calen's lips on his own. Before he was able to summon the will to cease 'sound-sight', he saw the beating heart quicken and, radiating out from it in all directions, a tracery of lines that pulsed the same as the heart. They drew a picture that he thought he knew but couldn't quite remember. He switched his internal eyes outward but kept his lids closed. Calen kissed them, and only then did he trust his strength to deal with 'real sight' once he opened them. Before he did, Calen's lips pressed against his again, more forcibly, more desperately. He responded this time. He felt himself being turned and gently laid on the soft pelt beneath him. Weight shifted and then he found Calen's head on his chest, the lips pressed to the centre, between his peaks. He felt Calen's body lowered onto his albeit the hunter was supporting his weight.

The lips grazed his chest and descended to his stomach. Part of him was screaming ‘no!’, but another part craved it. Rane put his hands on the back of the Calen’s neck and wove the hair between his fingers; a net to stop the feelings from escaping. The head moved and took his hands with it, lower, circling, achingly slow. When Calen took Rane’s manhood in his mouth he released without warning; a hot river of seed burst forth through the pent up dam of his guilt. It left him innocent. He lifted his legs and rotated his hips and without opening his eyes or saying a single word, he gave the invitation and accepted Calen’s reply. The hunter was big, bigger than War. To overcome the pain he drew up the hunter’s head and kissed the mouth that hungrily bit his lips and sucked his tongue.

The hunter’s manhood speared him to the core. It was irresistible and magnetic; all his desires flew to it. He built himself anew around it, like a totem. Invaded, there was no space for the cold and comfortless grief. Instead, he felt joy at having known War, and remembered so many things he had forgotten; good things, playful things, shared moments, discoveries; the bonding of their young bodies.

Calen drove into him like the steady beat of a drum. Rane moved his hands down to the buttocks and grasped them, sliding his fingers into the valley. They moved like the powerful limbs of the lion; supreme machines. The pace quickened and smooth thrusts became ragged jolts as the hunter neared the point of release. Calen pulled his head back and their mouths were torn apart. Fresh air fuelled the euphoria and groans became cries became shouts became roars until Calen’s release swept over Rane like a flash flood. Only then did Rane open his eyes.

Chapter Seven – Storm Demon

They sat and gazed upon each other with fresh eyes, new sight and clear vision. To Rane, Calen was no longer a rival, a competitor or a test. To Calen, Rane was the answer that he sought on his path.

“Finish cleaning the pelt and I will sort the packs. If we truly make for the mountain then there is stuff in them that we do not need. A lighter load will be a good thing. We’ll cache anything we do not take; it will be easy to find on the return.”

“Will we return?”

“When I trekked from the causeway that collapsed to the giant’s head, I saw a plateau that was covered in a strange grass. The way to the east was open for as far as the eye could see. I would journey there for a time.”

“I will come with you; if we survive the cavern and its sea of flames.”

“I do not know what we will find; answers to questions but the questions have long since been forgotten.”

“Your father’s fate and the reasons why your tribe shunned you.”

“I no longer care about them. If I find the answers then I will be content. I have found you; it is enough.”

“What does the map stick show now?” asked Calen.

Rane dug it out of the pack and they examined it in the bright sunlight of the first day of autumn. He’d examined the stick many times with War. Beyond the edge of the chasm, which looked like a crack in the stick, there was little except the teeth of the terrain that led to the base of the mountain. The teeth could easily be the teeth of the lion and they wondered if their encounter the day before would be their last.

“It will get cold and we have little shelter. I pray we make the cavern before the first snows.” ventured Rane.

“Are the boots easy to make?”

“Easy enough. I will start them now. We should plan to leave tomorrow if Fen is able to walk.”

Fen was still asleep. The healing herbs that Rane had administered were potent and induced a deep slumber.

“I will feed him the lion’s organs. It will help him to make the blood he lost.” Rane added.

“He already has the heart of a lion!”

“Foraging will be difficult for Soma.”

“She seems to find enough.”

They started their work and felt still the heat of the sun on their backs until she was just passed her zenith and then her power diminished quickly and the fire needed to be lit by sunset. Calen worked the pelt of the lion to make himself a covering, albeit his arms and legs were mostly exposed. Rane made the boots longer in the hope that Calen’s lower legs would be better protected. He used the last of the fur for the socks, and renewed his own. With remnants he made gloves for their hands.

He cached the stuff they did not need to carry. The surface of the ground was loose and it didn’t take him long to dig a pit to hide the gear they chose to leave behind. It included all of War’s spare gear that Rane had carried.

“This is all I have left of him save my memories,” Rane lamented.

“They will keep you warmer.”

They covered the things and laid heavy stones upon the earth and marked it.

Calen had been troubled all day by something at the furthest edge of his vision. At sunset they saw it clearly; a storm cloud like no other cloud they had ever seen. Even at this distance, perhaps as far away as the causeway, they saw the flashes of the lightning and heard the rumbles of thunder.

“It moves this way, Calen.”

“There is no protection here. If we pile the stones it might give us some respite from the winds; but not from the rain.”

They built a simple wall of stones around half of the fire and covered what they could to protect it from the drenching that seemed inevitable. The storm moved closer and closer and blacker it got until it was as night. The lightning was like a knife that a hunter might plunge into the belly of his quarry. Where the lightning hit water it erupted in spurts like blood; momentarily illuminated by the red light of the sun that was now just setting and visible beneath the edge of the cloud.

“The earth is slaughtered,” Rane gasped.

“Its edge nears the chasm. It roars like the lion!”

The storm had reached the edge of the chasm and there it remained. At first it seemed as if the storm was waning or turning away but then it was clear that the chasm was sucking the storm down into it. Lightning dived into the void and lit it up. The light made the crack appear like a mouth full of sharp teeth. Light and dark, it alternated between the two and made the mouth appear to ‘speak’. The thunder roared and echoed along the length of the narrow gorge and it was as if the Goddess herself was lamenting War’s loss.

The roiling clouds backed up behind the curtain of rain and light that was falling into the chasm. Nothing reached over and Calen was tempted to move closer.

“I cannot move closer, Calen. It is unnatural.”

“The sky falls into the chasm like water over the cascade,” he cried, almost jubilantly.

To Rane, it was more of a burial than anything to be celebrated. Not that War’s life was something that should not be celebrated, but not like this. In the dying rays of the sun, the curtain of water turned red and the sky’s wounds bled into the earth.

Rane pushed himself into a corner of the makeshift abri and pulled the animals to his chest, as much for his protection as theirs. Calen ventured closer and would not come back despite Rane’s pleadings. The last ray of the sun flashed green amongst the red torrents and the image on the wall of the cave and tattooed on the chest of the old man and on War’s chest, flashed in Rane’s mind’s eye and he knew the path he had to take.

He grabbed his pack and stood up, no longer fearful of the spectacle. He moved urgently and the animals followed, ‘Yes! Finally you see the way!’ he heard, the words rebounding in his ears.

“Calen! Follow me over the edge!”

Calen lunged at him to stop him from running head long over the edge of the chasm and caught his arm which he gripped tightly.

“Rane! Are you chased by demons?”

“It is not madness; this is the path.” Rane shouted over the noise of the maelstrom.

“A path to certain death.” Calen countered.

“No! To the cavern it will take us. War waits for us there. This is the safe path, but we have to take it whilst the storm rages.”

“How can you be sure?”

“You have to trust that I am right. The animals know it too; they follow willingly.”

“I cannot…”

“Let it go, Calen. We will be safe.”

Rane was pulling his arm free of Calen’s grip. Calen was allowing himself to be pulled a little but still he resisted, uncertain if Rane was mad, driven by the storm to abandon reason.

“I cannot go, Rane…”

“Then let me go.”

Calen teetered on the edge of the decision. Rane was pulling and Calen’s hold on Rane’s arm had loosened to the point where Rane could easily have tugged himself free.

“Calen, we have to go now. The animals would not blindly follow me over the edge, yet they come willingly. It is the right way.”

“We shall be lost.”

“If I am the answer you seek on the path then I also the question.”

“If we perish, Rane…”

“We will not.”

The storm was already abating. Rane was getting impatient and knew that this chance would remain for sixty heart beats longer, no more.

“I cannot go that way.”

“Then walk the path.”

Rane pulled his arm free and Calen did not attempt to hold on to it any longer.

Rane did not see the torrent pouring into the gorge. He did not see the lightning flashes. He saw a pair of hands reaching out to grasp his.

“I am coming!”

He dived over the edge with the animals at his side, Fen closest.

Chapter Eight – The path to the cavern

As a boy, shunned by everyone, he’d spent many hours by the river near the village. Most of the time he fished and added to his mother’s share for the pot. He was adept at skewering the big fat trout with his foreshortened spear; the point was made from the bone of a fish, a larger fish that did not inhabit the river. It had been given to him by his grandfather; his only gift, save the trip to the caves.

Rane had sat and pondered the fast running water for hours, imagining what it must be like to be a fish; free of the cares of human life. Yet, he saw that in the main, except at the spawning time, the fish were solitary creatures. He did not know how the fish breathed under water. He tried it once and coughed and spluttered his way through the attempt, nearly drowning himself. When he watched the smaller fish dart amongst the stones, it appeared to him that the fish was somehow part of the water; the edges of the fish blurred and fish and water were as one. Not so, he thought, the birds. Their edges did not merge; but he could never be sure if the birds were part of the air, like the fish were part of the water. Some animals, perhaps all animals, were part of the earth; none seemed to be part of the fire.

Tipping over the edge of the gorge, he felt like a fish jumping the cascade to reach the spawning grounds. He most definitely did not feel like a bird! The noise was deafening. The roar of the water and the boom of the thunder, with the echoes running along the length of the chasm, were the loudest sounds he had ever heard. Within thirty beats of his heart it stopped and he assumed the storm had died. Nothing felt real although he knew he was still alive. Things began to change.

At first he knew that he had been moving because he had felt the air flow over his body and his hair had been pulled back from his face. Now it appeared that he was still and the gorge moved; a worm on a hook that sees the mouth of the fish and is enveloped by it.

There was no light or sound except for the glow of the four protectors; a faint glow; four dying stars.

Rane pondered on whether War had felt the same transition from moving to being still. Above all, he realised that his choice had been right and, if he survived, then War had too. Fleetingly he thought of Calen. The hunter had stood rooted like a tree, unable to move and unwilling to trust Rane’s judgement, though madness it had probably seemed.

“Will I re-find War and lose Calen? Have I lost both?”

The sensation, that the walls of the gorge were moving and he was not, slowed perceptibly and then he felt that nothing was moving. Suspended like frog spawn in a black flux. He turned his head to look for Fen and in the instant he found Fen in his sight, they landed. Rane landed heavily and, in feeling the earth beneath his feet, it must have been that the sensation of not moving had been an illusion. His motion carried him headlong into the darkness until he stumbled and came to rest. He already had the feeling that the place was narrow and long. Not a breath of air touched his cheek or ruffled his hair. He breathed normally. It was warm and a little moist. Lying between the lips of the Goddess was how he saw himself. He had landed, and the animals had too, behind him. Fen was first to search him out, quickly followed by Tara and Ciru. Soma was last.

“We survived the fall little ones!”

A vain hope erupted in his heart but then died immediately; that Calen had followed. ‘Sound-sight’ found only the animals and a blacker than black path that led straight from his feet into nothing.

“I no longer believe my senses. If I had trusted my senses, I should not have plunged over. I will walk and the way will be shown.”

The animals’ light helped not at all. He was tempted to turn and walk to the side of the gorge and place his hands on the wall.

“Do not stray from the path, Rane,” he cautioned himself.

He reached down and felt the earth. It was like earth, like the meaty soil that they had found under the root of the tree; but it was not earth; no grains stuck to his fingers; solid yet invisible.

“Perhaps we are the earth now, like the fish in the water and the birds in the air.”

Time meant nothing. It could have been one day from the decision to dive, or one heartbeat; he knew only that he had to walk. And it would not be far, but it would not be near, this thing.

“Fen…”

The wolf came to his side and looked up.

“Your cut has healed,” he stated without surprise; the knowledge of it preceded his eyes’ confirmation of the fact, “let us find War and Quinha…”

The wolf did not leap forward, as he had expected; they moved as one, the animals, and as they were, close together, they resembled the lion; the supreme machine. He went to adjust the pack on his shoulder and despite feeling the weight there; there was nothing. Then he realised he was naked.

“Do I dream this? Was all…imagined?”

He ran his hand over his body and felt his skin, the contours of his muscles and the hair on his head.

“That is real enough.”

Fen looked over his shoulder and Rane took it to be the sign that they should move. It felt like they were under water; movements became slower, more deliberate, cushioned. He could breathe normally and when he exhaled into his palm he felt his breath. He was neither hungry nor thirsty and could not remember a time when he had been nor recall the memory of the taste of anything he’d eaten. He did not feel tired but neither did he feel energised or even truly awake.

Somehow they moved and there was the sense of progress towards a goal; not that it was important.

“I wonder if War is changed and if his sight has returned? Fen’s cut has healed. If I have no pack, stick or stone, does he have the amulet still or, like me, is as the babe that exits from its mother’s womb? I wonder what I will find; the sea of red flames and the green star? I saw them in the cascade as the sun set and in that dying beam it was all known to me but now I have forgotten. I wonder if I shall find my father. Has War found his tribe?”

A succession of questions entered his mind but no answers came. It mattered little.

Imperceptibly at first, then, by degrees, things changed again.

“I feel cooler.”

The light around the animals looked harsher and there was a definite edge to it. For some reason he dared not turn his head to look for the sides of the gorge.

“Look straight ahead, Rane.”

The voice was his own but sounded like it had come from up high; disconnected from his chords. He repeated the words and held his fingers to his lips and felt them move. He felt sweat on his top lip and it was like dew on the grass in the morning.

Then he fell out of time and space and landed on a cold hard stone floor that was wet and slimy.

“Am I here?”

Chapter Nine – The Cavern under the Mountain

Even before he was aware of anything else, he sensed he was within an eye. The glistening dome above his head like the lens of the eye and the blue centre its iris, pupil-less.

“Is that the sky?”

War had said that the mountain had been crowned with ice. Perhaps it was like a window. The floor was real. It was hard and smooth, wet and slippery. He stood up. The chamber with the window on the sky was empty and there appeared to be no entrance. The animals were standing in a group, looking at him.

“We are here…it is nothing like I imagined. But this cannot be the place because there is no sea and no star.”

In the full glare of the light he saw that he was indeed naked.

“The full sun? We plunged over the edge at sunset. One night has passed?”

He didn’t know.

The chamber was a perfect circle, like the chamber beneath the giant; the one with the steps carved into the wall. He stepped over to the edge of the floor, where it met the wall of ice. He was, as he could now see, on a circular plateau, with a dome of ice above him.

“This cannot be the end.”

He went back to the animals. They were standing quietly in a group and did not move. Fen allowed Rane to rub his head. He did the only thing he could do and that was to practise ‘sound-sight’.

The chamber was featureless and noiseless and yielded nothing. Straining to catch any sound he fancied he heard the beat of a drum. In his mind he saw the chamber floor and it was supported by a column. The column rose from the depths of the mountain and ended at the floor, under its dead centre. He moved to the centre of the room; the floor was unmarked. He sat down and the animals appeared to relax. He bowed his head and closed his eyes; not tired but weary.

He heard nothing.

Opening his eyes brought the first shock. The animals had moved and now stood around him; Fen in front, Tara behind; Ciru to his left and Soma to his right. Before he could speak they sank into the surface of the chamber; melting away. In their stead, four thin white lines were now drawn on the floor marking out a square, within which he was seated.

“They were protectors and still protect me. I hope I shall see them again.”

His reverie was broken by the sound of the stone grating against itself and the square within which he sat began to descend. He stood up and his stomach flipped. The square of floor descended and as it did, the walls of the shaft down which he was moving became more apparent. The sides of the shaft were smooth and not the width of a hair separated the floor from them. Deeper he travelled and darker it became as he lost of the light of the chamber above. The square of blue sky above his head receded slowly but surely. By the time the square of blue was almost invisible to him the descent of the platform was halted. Four doors appeared in the walls of the shaft. There were markings on the doors but he didn’t recognise them. They were unlike anything he’d seen before. Neither did they resemble any symbol he could remember from the map stick.

“Four doors…four choices. The way of water, the way of air, the way of earth and the way of fire.”

Each door was identical save the marking upon it.

“One of these doors leads to the cavern and the sea of flames. I do not know which; does it matter?”

In the end he decided by imagining that each door was one of the animals. Since he hadn’t moved, he knew which door represented each animal, based on their last position. “It feels wrong to choose. If I have to choose then I choose the door of Fen. He protected me as we hunted. He risked his life for me when the lion attacked.”

He stepped forward and touched the door. Something happened and he heard a strange sound. The door swung open and beyond it was a passageway, lit somehow. Afraid that the door would close he stepped through and found himself in the tunnel. Looking around he saw that the door had gone; there was no shaft or platform, only a tunnel. Behind him the tunnel was unlit. Without needing to think he walked forward and followed the light.

For a time the tunnel was straight and level. Then it began to rise and the incline became steep. In the end he could only continue by using both his hands and feet. The tunnel turned sharply to the left and the incline became very acute. At the top of the slope he exited into another chamber. In the centre of the chamber was a raised dais upon which sat five carved white stone figures. They looked like the old man in the village. Each figure was seated, cross-legged. In front of each figure there was a carved animal. Rane didn’t need to look to see that they were the five protectors.

“Are they the gods?”

He stepped forward to look at the figures more closely.

They were carved from some white stone that was rough to touch. The carving was exquisite. Each figure was dressed in a simple robe. Around each neck hung an amulet, like War’s. He drew closer to the figure that had the eagle at its feet.

“Are you War? Were you a god?”

The stone did not speak. The blank eyes looked on, benignly; a smile was hinted at in the mask of the face.

“What am I to do? If this is War then he is lost to me. He has joined his tribe at last; proved himself worthy to sit in the circle?”

Rane sat down, unsure of the next step. The chamber had no other entrance or exit. The roof was high above him and cloaked in shadows. How the stone figures were lit was a mystery to him. He could not go back because he did not know how he had got there.

“Perhaps I am not meant to be here. If that is so, then I will perish. Quinha guided War and the others guided me. What is it I am supposed to do?”

He practised ‘sound-sight’ and found only himself.

“Perhaps if I follow the tunnel in the other direction I will find my way home. Was this War’s path and his alone?”

He rose and prepared to leave, feeling more naked for the absence of the spear and the bow.

“If they were taken then I do not need them.”

He made his way to the head of the incline and stopped. It was pitch black.

“I know the way.”

He descended and turned right at the bottom, just as he’d turned left when he had arrived. He scrambled down the second slope to the level and flat path and walked quickly. He walked with his hands out in front of him; he could see nothing.

“Like War. Will our blindness reunite us?”

He remembered that the shaft had disappeared but he had no way of knowing how far he’d walked and whether he’d already passed that place.

“This is like doubt. A cloud that blinds me. In what should I place my faith? War? Calen? The sea and star? War must have survived the fall like I have. He is here somewhere.”

His pace quickened involuntarily and then he ran, unafraid of blundering into a pit or striking his head on the rock. He picked up the pace and knew why he’d favoured Fen; the quickest of the protectors. Blindingly fast he ran, inhumanly so, faster than even the wolf giving chase.

“I am Fen and I hunt.”

He recalled Calen’s words to War; ‘I follow dreams and hunt truth’.

“What do I dream? If I hunt truth, where is it to be found? In my heart? What truth? Did I love War?”

He pushed himself to the limit of his endurance.

“I LOVE YOU WAR!”

The scream was not anguished or terrorised; the scream was jubilant. He repeated it over and over until the very words did not sound like words at all and then the echo came back at last.

Within an instant he came into a chamber and ran headlong into the shallow waters of a pool. He stumbled as the water slowed his legs and he fell forward and was completely submerged.

The shock made him breathe in deeply and he felt the water invade his lungs. Choking he tried to scramble up but the water was deeper than he realised and he found nothing beneath his feet. Flaying madly he couldn’t help himself but breathe again and the cold water bit his throat as it filled his lungs. The red mist passed before his eyes and he sank slowly. For a time he had consciousness although there was nothing to see.

Chapter Ten – Game Over

“Game over.”

The woman’s voice was soft and slightly fuzzy. He realised he was awake; at last! He screwed his eyes up and then opened them to the familiar sight of the console room and the machines.

“Randall; are you with us?”

“Uhm, yeah…just give me a minute would you?”

He reached up and felt the helmet that completely covered his head. He panicked momentarily and then remembered putting it on.

“Jesus! How long was I gone?” he said to himself.

“Randall; do you need a hand?”

“No; I’m fine.”

The words sounded odd in his head; though not his voice; that was familiar enough. No; the words sounded alien, like he’d just learned them. Slowly he reached up and pushed the helmet away. It retracted on its tether and left him strangely naked. He was wearing the jumpsuit that everyone wore when they entered the gaming zone. Brolyn walked over.

“Hey! You were so gone. I never saw anyone so deep. How do you feel?”

“Kinda spaced; how long…?”

“Seventeen hours; it’s a record.”

“Where are the others?”

“Who? You played solo today. You up for next week?”

“Sure. I could have sworn…are you sure no one else was playing?”

“Positive. Okay; help yourself to a shower and Warren will bring you…”

“Warren?”

“New guy; first day.”

Randall eased himself out of the chair; not for the first time. This interactive neural-based game experience was fast becoming his career. He stretched to free up his back and grabbed the water bottle from the table beside the chair. He gulped it down. Shaking his head he moved to the doors that lead to the shower rooms and the lockers.

“Hi, I’m Warren. I’ll fetch your box.”

His tongue and lips would not form the words; there seemed to be no breath in his lungs. Finally he managed, “War?”

“Warren…my name’s Warren. No one has called me ‘War’ since school.”

“Sorry…I’m still coming out…”

“I monitored you this morning. I don’t really know what it’s like but you looked so deep.”

“Did you ever play?”

“No…I’m gonna get your things.”

Randall headed for the shower rooms, feeling suddenly tired and extremely hungry. Because it was closer, he headed straight into the communal shower. He slipped out of the jumpsuit at the entrance. He threw it on the bench and padded over to one of the showers, selecting ‘hot’. For a minute he just let the water run over his body.

“Jesus! That’s so good,” he said to himself out loud.

“I bet!”

Randall looked over his shoulder to see Warren putting his box down on the bench ready for him. There were clean towels beside the box and the key for the locker in which you secured your valuables.

“Damn!” The gel dispenser was empty.

“Hey, Warren, you there? The soap is all used up.”

Warren came back to the entrance.

“Oh, sure; let me get you some.”

He disappeared for a minute and then came back with a bottle of the all-in-one stuff.

“Here you go.”

Randall turned and walked the four paces to the entrance to take the bottle from Warren’s hand. He felt Warren’s eyes all over him and smiled in spite of himself.

“Thanks. You’re new?” Randall queried as he headed back to the shower.

“First day.”

“Enjoying it?”

“It’s different; I’ll say that.”

“Yeah! Try the game if you really want to know what different is.”

“Can I get you anything else?”

“Something to eat. I’m so hungry.”

“Kitchen closed an hour ago. I live just around the corner. I could cook you something if you like?”

Randall had continued to scrub himself during this brief exchange. The offer made him look over.

“No it’s…”

“It’s no trouble. I’m going there after you’re done. I have to get back for the dog.”

“Well, if it’s no trouble. I’d appreciate it because I have a long drive back.”

“No worries. When you’re done just find me in reception. I’ll be waiting.”

“Okay. Thanks!”

Randall finished showering and got dressed. Putting on his clothes felt weird, like they belonged to someone else. He dried his hair with a towel and raked his fingers through it to teasel out the knots.

“Should get it cut.”

Opening the security box that was mounted on the wall, he removed his watch and his wallet. His car keys were in his jacket pocket. He popped his head around the door and said goodbye to Brolyn before heading out to the reception. There, he signed out and found Warren waiting by the door.

“Do you need a lift?” asked Randall.

“That’ll be great. It’s not far. I walked this morning.”

They found Randall’s car in the car park and got in.

“Turn right out of the car park and follow the road until you get to the turning for the farm and then follow the signs for the farm,” Warren instructed him, after which he put his seat belt on and kind of shrank back in his seat.

“You okay?”

“Yeah. I’m not a good passenger. It’s why I walk everywhere.”

Randall pulled out and took the road as directed and turned for the farm. He hadn’t known there was one, but then he wasn’t local.

“A mile down here,” Warren confirmed.

“You’re by yourself?”

“Yep! Just me and the dog.”

“Man of few words,” mused Randall.

“Just here…”

Randall pulled up outside the farm house. There was a big square dirt lot which seemed to be the playground for a bunch of tractors that had seen better days.

“Don’t mind the dog. He’s a Tamaskan. Some people get anxious around him but he wouldn’t hurt a flea.”

Warren headed off towards the door of the house and was fishing for keys in his jacket pocket. Randall assumed from the comment that it was a big dog. The grey streak that exited the house and ran up to him was easily three feet at the shoulder.

“FEN!”

Chapter Eleven – In the beginning

“Ouch!”

“Easy…you hit your head but you were only out for like a minute.”

“Did the dog knock me over?”

“Uhm, no…you fainted.”

Randall quirked his lips and levered himself up into a sitting position.

“Jesus!”

“Come inside.”

Randall allowed Warren to help him up and was surprised by the strength in the arms. He dusted himself off and followed Warren into the house.

“Where’s the dog?”

“He ran to his kennel. I think he got upset. He is such a baby.”

“He just looks the part!”

Warren towed Randall to the kitchen area and Randall immediately sat down on one of the stools at the counter.

“Drink?”

“Just water for now, thanks.”

“What do you want to eat?”

“I know this is gonna sound weird, but, do you have any steaks?”

“Sure. I’m just gonna change out of my uniform and I’ll be back. Look around. Make yourself at home. Go visit Fen. He’ll stay there because he thinks it was his fault.”

“Okay,” Randall replied aimlessly, suddenly struck by just how beautiful the room was.

It was basically one room with the kitchen in the corner. The hearth dominated the centre of the space. Stairs led up from the opposing corner to the kitchen. There was a door out to the back yard. He peered out and saw the dog in its kennel, apparently asleep. The walls and the shelves were decorated with amazing objects and works of art. One shelf housed twenty stone arrowheads; another, flint napping tools.

Warren came back down the stairs.

“You have some amazing things,” exclaimed Randall, still trying to take in the sight of the totem pole that stood in one corner.

“It’s probably only half of its true height. I found it when I was digging out the drainage for the big field. I found all this stuff here.”

Randall collected his thoughts, looked at Warren and smiled.

“Beautiful.”

“Right! The man said he was hungry. What do you want with the steaks…fries…eggs…salad?”

“Yep!”

They laughed and it was a shedding of tension laugh that was due about now.

“Sit…do you want something stronger than water?”

“Don’t ask me why but I have a craving for herbal tea.”

“I got herbal. I never drink anything else.”

Warren prepared the food and Randall sat at the counter and listened to the story of how Warren had inherited the farm from his grandfather whom he’d never met.

“I really don’t know what to do with it. Maybe create a working museum or something.”

“Oh, I didn’t go out to the dog. Perhaps I should now or he’ll really think I’m pissed.”

“I’ll finish the salad dressing if you wanna do that.”

“Can I smoke outside?”

“Sure…”

Randall upped and exited through the smaller door into the backyard. The dog eyed him but didn’t move.

“Fen, come here.”

The dog immediately got up and ran over, demanding to be fussed.

“Hey, boy…”

“I found him.” Warren had come out to check that Fen wasn’t still anxious, “He’s adorable, and so protective.”

“Is he part wolf?”

“Somewhere in there no doubt…dinner’s almost done…”

Warren headed in and left Randall to fuss Fen for a moment longer. The dog followed Randall, keeping his flank firmly pressed against Randall’s leg. Once they’d entered the house, the dog plopped himself down in front of the fire. Warren dished up and they ate at the kitchen counter, one on either side.

“Where are you from?” asked Warren.

“Santa Barbara. I moved to the lakeshore a few years ago.”

“Do you parents still live there?”

“My mother does. She cares for my grandfather who has dementia.”

“What about your father?”

“He died when I was seventeen…”

“I’m sorry.”

It seemed to Warren that the recollection was especially painful.

“No, it’s okay. I’ve just begun to come to terms with it. Really only since I moved away. He committed suicide.”

“Shit! I didn’t mean to…”

“No, it’s one of those things. I came out to them when I was seventeen. He took it really hard. In the end, the shame got too much and he killed himself.”

“Fuck!”

“Yeah. The family hasn’t really forgiven me for it. Not that it was my ‘fault’ exactly…but you know how families can be.”

Warren let out a little strangled ‘humpf’.

“What?”

“I didn’t really know mine. I was sent away to boarding school for as long as I can remember. They’re all dead now.”

These revelations lightened rather than darkened the mood. Randall didn’t know the last time he’d felt so comfortable around another person, particularly someone he didn’t know and had just met.

“Are you gay?” he asked.

“Yes.”

Warren started to clear away the things from the counter and in the process he leaned over and Randall caught sight of the tattoo.

“Wow! That’s some tattoo.”

Warren blushed, realising Randall could see his naked skin.

“It’s taken from the totem. Look near the top and you’ll see the design. It’s not as clear as it was. I think the sunlight is fading it.”

“I never had a tattoo. I always wanted one but I wasn’t brave enough to go.”

“I’ll go with you if you want. I know the guy at the parlour.”

“Okay!” and Randall laughed, feeling his own skin redden and he became aware of the fact that his cock was swelling.

“It’s getting late. Do you wanna stay over? You said you had a long drive…”

“That would be great actually. The game was very tiring.”

“Is it true that you don’t remember anything from the game?”

“Yeah.”

“Why do it then; if you don’t remember it?”

“It works on a subconscious level. It’s meant to be a healing thing; really deep.”

“Cool.”

“There’s another one next week. A journey to the Mongolian steppes. Marco Polo meets web site designer!”

They laughed out loud at that and their eyes became fixed on each other’s.

“You have such dark eyes. They’re nearly black,” commented Randall, genuinely enrapt.

“It’s a family trait apparently. I was gonna get contacts…”

“Don’t!” and Randall realised his counter remark had been said a little too forcefully and hotly.

“Let’s move to the fire. I’m getting cold and I can smell the snows.”

“Smell the snows?”

“Yeah; always could and I’m always right.”

They headed to the couches by the fire. There were two couches that formed a corner. Fen had a rug in front of one. Warren eased himself down into that one and rested his bare feet on the dog, who licked his toes and made him giggle. Randall flopped down in the other, leaning right back.

“This is really nice. Thank you for dinner…and for the offer.”

“You’re welcome. Bathroom is upstairs. The guest room doesn’t have a bed so I suggest you sleep here.”

“Okay.”

“Do you still speak to your mother?”

“Occasionally. She doesn’t blame me for what happened but she’s almost always just angry and frustrated. Grandpa doesn’t help. No one else really helps her but more often than not she rejects any offers she gets. It’s like she’s punishing herself for the fact that I’m gay and he killed himself because of it.”

“That’s heavy! Perhaps she should do the game instead of you.”

“I suggested it. She didn’t answer my calls for three months after. It is how it is. Why are you working at the centre? Doesn’t this place need you fulltime?”

“It does, but it doesn’t earn me a living; not yet. I had a few bills and they cleared out the reserves, so I decided to work the winter. Not much doing here then anyways.”

“No, I guess not.”

There was just silence for a while, punctuated by the crack of the logs and the yelps that Fen made as he dreamed.

“He’s making me sleepy; perhaps I’ll turn in,” suggested Randall.

“Sure. I’ll head up myself. I’ll leave you towels out and a toothbrush.”

“Thanks. This is really good of you.”

“Don’t mention it.”

Warren stroked Fen’s head for a minute and kissed him on the nose before heading up the stairs. Randall popped out for a cigarette and then went up to find the bathroom. He didn’t need to shower, so he just brushed his teeth and headed back down. Whilst he’d been in the bathroom, he’d heard Warren on the stairs and assumed, rightly, that he’d brought some bedding down. They crossed on the landing.

“Goodnight, Warren.”

“Goodnight. Sweet dreams.”

Randall settled himself on the sofa and turned out the lamp. The room was just lit by the fire now and for a time he meditated on the flames. It was a therapy he used often at home, to calm down and forget the guilt. He hadn’t realised he’d fallen asleep until Fen woke him up, demanding to be let out. The fire was low but not completely dead. He eased himself out from under the duvet and padded over to the door to the back yard and let Fen out, who ran off at lightning speed. He slipped back under the duvet quickly, hoping to fall back to sleep immediately. In that half-sleep state he heard a noise on the stairs.

“Is that you, Warren?”

No answer.

Chapter Twelve – Day

Randall woke and felt so warm and snug he didn’t want to move despite needing to pee. From his nest he surveyed the room again and studied the totem pole. In the brighter light the design was easier to see but still pretty indistinct at this distance. He still didn’t want to get up. The back door opened and Warren and Fen came through. Fen ran to his side immediately.

“Good morning!”

“Good morning! Hey, Fen!”

Fen began to fight the duvet to get closer.

“Fen! Down.”

Warren’s voice was steely and it sent a ripple up Randall’s spine. The dog dropped to the floor and lay on his rug, eyeing Randall unblinkingly.

“Tea?”

“Oh, love some. Just gotta go to the bathroom. I was so snug I didn’t wanna move.”

“I had to. Fen was scratching at the door.”

“I let him out early this morning.”

“I heard him complaining and started to come down, but you got to him first. I’ll make some tea…”

Randall collected a stray thought or two and pushed the duvet back. He felt Warren’s eyes flick in his direction, much like they had at the centre when he had been using the shower. Strange though, there wasn’t the look of desire but…curiosity.

Randall headed up to the bathroom and pee’d, sloshing his face with some cold water to wash the sleep out of his eyes. He used the opportunity to dampen the mane of hair that, after a night under the duvet, looked like something you stuffed duvets with. He’d slept in just boxers and had forgotten to pick up his clothes from the sofa. He padded back down to find them. Warren was at the kitchen counter with a steaming brew.

“That’s better…”

“Do you have to leave immediately? I wondered if you wanted to look around the place?”

“No, I booked the day off. I always do after a game. I work for myself these days in any event. It was the website work I did for these people that introduced me to the game in the first place. I’d love to look around.”

“Great!” and Warren’s eyes beamed as did his sudden smile. It made Randall think of a child that had asked the grown up if they wanted to play a game and the grown up had said yes, unexpectedly.

“I need a drink before anything.”

Randall slipped on his shirt and jeans but left the socks off for the time being and padded over to the counter bare-foot.

“Why do I need tea so bad? I never drink tea!”

Warren just smiled and it was the smile that relayed the thought that it wasn’t the tea, he, Randall, wanted so bad, but it was a start.

Breakfast was over and they headed outside. Despite being October, the weather was fair.

“Last autumn we had so much rain that in the spring I dug the run off and that’s when I found the totem. But that wasn’t all. There was a kind of cache of stuff; like someone had put it there for safe-keeping.”

They hiked over to the run off.

“There’s some kind of fault here or sink. As soon as I started digging, it fell away, and now I have fucking great hole!”

Not too far from the edge of the sink hole was the site of the find. It looked like a shallow grave.

“Here I found the arrow heads and other stone tools, the napping kit and bones; some teeth and tusks. The arrow heads were all together. I guess the wood had rotted away, but it looked like it was what was left of a quiver.”

“Did you tell anyone?”

“No. I guess I should have. This stuff is probably important for our history. Particularly here, because there was no evidence of prehistoric settlement found here before.”

The wandered over the property that, for the most part, had been given over to the grazing of cattle. Warren’s grandfather had also kept some horses.

“I have a buddy who has a refuge for animals. He wants to build a sanctuary here, like a kind of overflow, especially for the wild animals that get injured and brought in.  I started building some enclosures and an aviary but it got too much for me to do alone.”

“I could help,” offered Randall.

“He’s coming over later to have a look at what needs doing. He’s threatened to bring some of the animals with him.”

Coffee punctuated the morning tour and gave them a chance to reflect a little. Nothing had been said yet, but it was obvious to both that there was some attraction and it wasn’t unwelcome; far from it.

“When was your last relationship?” asked Randall

“Uhm, a while. It was never that serious. We lost touch and I think he died or had a bad accident. I don’t really know. What about you?”

“A while. I moved away from everyone I knew. I…uhm…”

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to pry.”

“No, it’s just that, you know, I didn’t feel good about myself for a long time. He killed himself because of what I am…”

“No, he killed himself because he couldn’t deal with it. There’s a difference. You don’t have choice; he did.”

These words sounded like the words he’d always wanted to hear but no one had ever seen fit to say. Randall had, for so long, walked the empty lonely path that he’d given up hope of ever hearing them or finding someone who understood, just a little.

“Do you want to eat?” asked Warren. “It’s one o’clock, suddenly.”

“Yeah! That’ll be great. What time’s your friend coming over?”

“Four. What do you want, pasta?”

“Oh, this is embarrassing…more steak.”

“I have more steaks.” Warren grinned and Randall answered with a blush and a crooked lip smile.

“I’m sorry, but I just need meat for some reason. I never ate that much before. Usually fish if there was a choice.”

“I don’t like fish that much. Having said that I don’t really know what I’m looking at in the store, let alone how to cook it properly,” admitted Warren.

“Let’s have the steaks and I’ll go shopping and cook you fish like you never dreamed of.”

“Are you staying for dinner then?”

The words hung like smoke in the air. Randall had to look up and into Warren’s eyes in response to the question and the tone. The near black pools sucked him.

“I never felt as comfortable around another person as I feel around you. I feel like I’ve known you all my life.”

“You’re welcome to stay…for as long as you want. C’mon Fen, let’s get the BBQ on!”

Warren needed a little space and guessed, correctly, that Randall did too. After about half an hour, summoned by the aromas from the BBQ, Randall found his way back and looked relaxed and happy.

“Steak and…?”

“Steak!”

“The man likes his meat!”

They chuckled and moved closer towards each other; now within each other’s orbit of the invisible sun. Warren handed Randall a beer.

“Cheers!”

“Cheers!”

They ate and chatted about nothing: the price of fuel, Warren’s plans for the land, Randall’s business and holidays.

“I didn’t make any plans. It’s not so easy with Fen.”

“Neither did I. I fancied a trip into the real wilderness. You know, totally cut off and really having to survive.”

“Where, Alaska?”

“Yeah!”

There was real excitement in Randall’s voice.

“I like camping…but I like the hot tub too!”

“You have a hot tub?”

“I have a hot tub.”

Randall was smirking and digging his toe into the ground to avoid making eye contact. Not that intentions weren’t becoming transparent!

“I’ll head into town and get the fish…is there anything else we need?”

“There’s a list, but you don’t have to…”

“It’s okay. I’d like to do it. I can’t stay and not contribute.”

“A few meals and the sofa?” challenged Warren.

The words were so ready to be spoken, they barely needed to be said.

“I was hoping it could be more than that…”

“Like I said, you can stay for as long as you want…”

“Sleeping on the sofa?”

Chapter Thirteen – Night

“What does this say?”

“Cheese.”

“Any preference?”

“Some goat’s cheese and maybe some Jarlsberg.”

“Okay. I think I can read the rest. I won’t be long.”

“Okay.”

The question about the sofa hadn’t been answered with words. Looks speak a thousand words and the look had said, ‘I’m scared but I trust you…please stay…don’t hurt me’.

Randall headed off to the store and Warren tidied up a few things around the yard in anticipation of the visit by his buddy who ran the refuge. Fen had tried to get in Randall’s car as he left and Warren’s, ‘Fen, what are you doing?’ had been met by ‘I’m going with him, aren’t I?’

His buddy came and went and Randall hadn’t got back. It was nearly five-thirty.

“Where is he?”

Warren didn’t have Randall’s cell.

“Shit!”

A thousand and one thoughts flashed across his mind like knife cuts. The thought that Randall wasn’t coming back clenched Warren’s throat and the knot in his stomach became painful.

“If he’s not back by six I’m gonna go look for him.”

The comment was directed at Fen, who was pacing up and down.

“That’s not helping!”

Two minutes before six, Randall pulled up.

“Hey!”

Warren wondered if he should admit to being worried.

“I was just about to send out the search party.”

“They had no Jarlsberg so I drove to the other place and the traffic was a bitch.”

“You should’ve gotten something else. You didn’t have to haul ass thirty miles for some cheese.”

“The man said Jarlsberg and that’s what he’s got.”

The smile healed all Warren’s cuts.

“Fair trade for the hot tub, I guess.”

“Did your buddy show?”

“Oh, wait ‘til you see what he brought me, and he calls himself a friend!”

Warren helped Randall with the bags and they went into the house.

“His assistant, Melissa, is off, and someone brought in a fox cub. The mother was caught in a trap, they said. So, he asked if I could look after it whilst he’s short of a pair of hands, because it needs feeding.”

“Where is it?”

Warren pressed his finger to his lips and tiptoed over to the hearth and pointed at a box that was beside the end of one of the sofas.

“Asleep…for now,” he whispered.

“Oh my god! Fed, like…with a bottle?”

“Yeah, a real baby!”

Not long after the shopping got put away the meowing grew louder and a pathetic series of squeaks erupted from the box. Warren dived over to retrieve the cub, cradling it like a baby, cooing gently. The cub was momentarily pacified and then squeaked even louder.

“Is it male or female?” asked Randall.

“Male.”

“He’s adorable.”

“Grab me a bottle from the bag on the counter and I’ll feed it. Oh my god!”

Randall fetched one of the bottles that Warren’s pal had left and handed it over. No sooner had Warren had the cap off, the little one was nuzzling and trying to latch on.

“Hey, easy fella!”

Randall left Warren feeding the baby and finished putting the groceries away.

“Are you hungry?” he asked.

“Uhm, not really…you?”

“No. Maybe later, after the hot tub!”

“Once this one’s bedded down, we’ll have four hours before he needs to be fed again.”

“Shit! A real baby.”

“Changed your mind?”

No answer; none required.

The hot tub was located at the back of the house, at one end, in the elbow of the wall that was formed by the house and one of the barns. It was a basically a box, mounted over a hearth.

“Not very sophisticated I’m afraid,” apologised Warren.

“Is that water warm?”

“It’s forty-five degrees, and getting hotter. Add a little seasoning and I’d say, after an hour, you’ll be done!”

“Uhm, not too spicy…”

“I’ll fetch us some towels. Just in the door by the tub is a clean area where you can leave your things. I’ll get some beers too.”

Randall went to investigate. Fen was not pressed to his side. The dog was lying by the makeshift fox den. Randall pushed the door open and found a simple changing room set up in one corner of the barn: a bench, an easy chair and a small table; a coat rack and some inexpertly hung hooks. The square of floor was swept and covered in a coconut fibre mat. He disrobed and popped his head out of the door to see if Warren was coming. He was just outside the house door, arms laden with towels and beers.

“Get in! It’s getting cold,” Warren urged as he walked up.

Randall exited from the barn and used the stepping stones that Warren had laid, to get to the tub without getting dirty feet. The brickwork of the simple structure that supported the tub was stepped so that it was easier to get in. Randall navigated those and eased himself into the water.

“OH MY GOD!”

“Is it hot yet?”

“Nearly…oh, this is so fucking good!”

Warren laughed and dumped the towels on the bench, getting undressed at the same time. He padded over and clambered in, handing Randall a beer as he did.

“Shit! That’s almost too hot.”

“It’ll cool down. Do you feel that air tonight?”

“I smell snow. By lunchtime tomorrow we’ll have some.”

“There was nothing on the forecast.”

“What do they know?”

The box was big enough to accommodate two chairs, more like wooden half loungers, supported on some of the same paving slabs to stop the feet from coming into contact with the hot metal base of the box. The chairs faced each other, off set to allow both users to stretch out their legs. Both men had shed the togs with feigned disinterest in the other’s body.

Randall was six feet to Warren’s five feet ten. He was heavier, 165 pounds to Warren’s 140. Both had defined bodies. Randall worked out in the gym and Warren worked out on the farm. Randall had longish hair, the shade of chestnut, whereas Warren’s hair was shorter and fairer, but not light enough to be termed blonde. In contrast to Warren’s near black eyes, Randall’s were green.

“This is the life!” announced Randall.

“Simple enough…”

“Until the bills need to be paid.”

“I grow some food. Next year I want to grow more and one of the top fields is good for cereal. I could put the cattle back and breed horses.”

“It sounds like a lot of work.”

“I don’t owe any money. It doesn’t have to generate a big income.”

Silence descended like the dusk and two or three solar lights began to glow around the perimeter of the area.

“I should have lit some candles,” lamented Warren.

“I like it when the fire is lit in the lounge.”

“Yeah, me too! Watching the flames is better than TV.”

Whereas so many things had not been said, something did need to be said now.

“I was serious about the trip into the wilderness.”

“I hoped you were!”

“You’d come?” Randall’s tone was light but the required response didn’t need to be guessed at.

“Depends on when. I can’t leave this place over the winter.”

“In the spring?”

“Yeah, but for how long?”

“Three months…at least.”

“I could do that as long as we can take Fen.”

“No worries, he’ll protect us!”

“Let’s think about it…seriously think about it. I’m never gonna want to get out of this water now!”

“It’s nearly sixty degrees,” reported Randall.

“It’ll start to cool down now; the fire’s low. When it drops to fifty, I’m getting out. The cub will need feeding in any event.”

“You really don’t mind if I stay?” Randall sought the confirmation, as much to confirm his own feelings about it as it was to confirm Warren’s.

“Stay for as long as you want.”

Still the essential meaning was being bypassed and it couldn’t be avoided any longer.

“I want to stay here to be…with you. It was never like this with anyone before.”

“Please stay…with me.”

Further declarations were postponed as Fen started creating a fuss at the door and Warren assumed the cub had woken up.

“Feed the cub and I’ll light the fire.”

In exiting from the tub they drew very close and without hesitation they kissed each other on the mouth, allowing their languid tongues to probe a little; the striking of the match.

“Jesus! It’s getting cold,” stuttered Randall, more out nerves than through any actual chilliness.

“Let’s get inside. Just help me to pop the lid on. I’ll use the water for the washing tomorrow.”

They manhandled the lid on and grabbed their things from the bench and ran into the house, shrieking like girls. They towel-dried and donned clothes before the flush in their skin disappeared. Warren retrieved the cub and handed him to Randall with a fresh bottle. Whilst Randall fed the baby, Warren lit the fire and the candles.

“You hungry? And don’t say steak!”

“Toasted cheese sandwich…and tea!”

“Did you hit your head?”

“Don’t ask!”

The cub, once fed, wanted to explore, until he saw Fen and then he hid behind Randall’s legs. Randall introduced them properly. After that, the cub wobbled over to the rug and proceeded to clamber over Fen’s head. Randall bit his lip, waiting for the dog to get annoyed. He didn’t and when the little one got sleepy, Fen picked him up by the scruff of the neck and dropped him back in the box.

The guys ate their food at the low table, which was to one side of the hearth, lounging on two big floor cushions.

“Can we sleep down here tonight?” asked Randall.

“Sure. I often do.”

“I don’t need to shower. I just need to brush my teeth.”

Warren chuckled, “It’s nine o’clock!”

“Feels later. Does Fen need to go out?”

“Briefly.”

“I’ll take him. I need a quick puff…don’t tell me I should quit.”

“I wasn’t going to. It doesn’t bother me. I’ll make the bed up. Take Fen out.”

There was a barely restrained urgency in their voices.

They reconvened in the bathroom to brush their teeth.

“I’ve never known him respond to anyone like he responds to you,” said Warren.

“I always wanted a dog. I never found one I really liked.”

The restraint in their voices and in their movements was beginning to break down. They went back to the lounge and the bed that Warren had made up. Both were still wearing their jeans and shirts. Warren began to unbutton his shirt. In the fire light his tattoo became surreal.

“How long did it take?” Randall asked, unbuttoning his own shirt.

“Sixty–three hours!”

“You’re joking!”

The highly stylised eagle in flight covered his chest and upper arms. Randall couldn’t help himself but to draw nearer and examine it more closely.

“It’s amazing! They look like real feathers…and the eyes.”

“He photographed it. I think it’s in some magazine.”

“Why did you choose that design?”

“Well, when I dragged the pole out of the ditch it was covered in mud and at first I thought it just a log. I hosed it off to burn it. When the water washed away the mud the colours were so vivid; not so now. I just couldn’t keep my eyes off it and I just knew I needed to have it tattooed.”

Both men were at the stage of slipping off their jeans. Neither had donned their underwear after the hot tub, so as the jeans came off they revealed, this time unashamedly, their naked bodies. Randall grasped Warren’s hand and pulled him down onto the sofa that was heaped with the faux-fur throws that were usually folded neatly and stacked at one end. The sensation of the fur on their skin, heightened by the warmth of the fire and arousal that was erupting like a geyser, transcended anything either had experienced before.

Their bodies contorted within the confines of the embrace; springs unwinding, cords unravelling, hot metal pulled into tortuous shapes by a hundred soft mouthed pincers; melting wax, flowing lava, roiling clouds, boiling seas. Muscles working like leather thongs being twisted this way and that by strong hands. The voices came as the sound of the creak of the ropes as the rack wheel is turned to stretch the victim.

The hard flesh and the soft flesh; the moist elastic tissue that tastes of sap and earth. Roots finding spaces between the stones, tapping the fertile wells. The sacred channels open anew.

They died as the fire died; all lights extinguished. The comforting void; the blanket within which they wrapped themselves. Bodies moulded to each other as the pines hug the col, the moss the stone, the bark the trunk. Two pollinated seeds, swelling in the pod.

This story will be continued in the new saga that begins with ‘The Way of Water’.

Table of Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter One – The fox

Chapter Two – The lynx

Chapter Three – The fawn

Chapter Four – Rane’s Desolation

Chapter Five – War’s descent

Chapter Six – Rane’s Progress

Chapter Seven – War’s decision

Chapter Eight – Rane’s Decision

Chapter Nine – The circle

Chapter Ten – The stair

Chapter Eleven – The wonders of the world

Chapter Twelve – The hunters reunited

Chapter One – Blinded by the light

Chapter Two - Progress is halted

Chapter Three - Precarious holds

Chapter Four - Separate paths

Chapter Five - First reaction

Chapter Six - Moving forward

Chapter Seven – Storm Demon

Chapter Eight – The path to the cavern

Chapter Nine – The Cavern under the Mountain

Chapter Ten – Game Over

Chapter Eleven – In the beginning

Chapter Twelve – Day

Chapter Thirteen – Night