-Red Moon
Then he had scratchedsomething later. A hastily written note.
Doesthe cave hide from us? Only show itself when we are worthy?
I wanted to go back.I wanted to see Astra and find the beating of the drums and forget this whole thing. And I’d tried, twice. Once, on the twenty-sixth night, and once just last week. Both times I got lost and almost couldn’t find my way back to the cabin. I wasn’t proud of wanting to give up, but clearly this wasn’t working. What I was doingwasn’tworking.
But even so, I had to keep trying or I’d go crazy.
“Okay, baby girl. Ready for a little hike?” I patted my belly and then went to the far wall of the bushcraft cabin. It was still slightly exposed to the elements, made with intertwined branches and a thatch roof. I’d worked on covering it with mud, and after four attempts I’d found the right consistency to make a thick paste that was dry enough to be strong, yet wet enough to have good coverage.
“Leave the cabin better than you found it. Improve for the future generations,” I told no one, remembering the line Buffalo Moon, my great-great-great grandfather had written on one of the papyruses. Grabbing my roll of twine, I started the task of tying it to my right ankle.
I’d chucked my underwear on day five. Now I wore a skirt made of an extra animal skin I’d found, and a top made of the same. They had puncture holes and ties so I could expand them as my belly grew, but I didn’t plan on staying here much longer.
Today was the day I was finding the cave and getting out of here. I walked over to the place I’d mud pasted the most important note I’d found. From Run, my biological father.
Once you find the cave,the woods open and lead you home. Good luck. -Run
I strokedthe cursive writing and smiled.Thanks, Run. This one single note kept me from going insane. It gave me hope, and hope was a powerful thing.
Walking outside, I tied off the end of the large ball of twine to one of the sticks I’d planted in the ground like a post. This was my true north, my safety net, my way home. I double checked my water canteen was full, and stashed some of the smoked rabbit meat I’d made this morning in my carrying pouch. Tapping my knife, which was tied to my inner thigh, and then the poison darts which I’d stashed in a satchel at my lower back, I nodded to the wind.
“Ready.”
Heaving the endless loops of twine over my shoulder, I set out to find the magical cave. The morning sun had just risen, and I would do my customary four to six hours of cave hunting before catching dinner and heading to the cabin well before dark.
As I walked through the thick trees, I unwound the twine from my shoulder and let it fall behind me. I started out by singing Adele, then as I made my way up the mountain I shifted to Taylor Swift, and finally ended with the Jonas Brothers. Something about singing radio songs from my life at Delphi in Spokane made me feel normal. It also hid the weird sounds that came from deep within the forest, sounds that scared the crap out of me. Soft whistles, creaking wood, wet, slimy thwacks.
I shivered thinking of it. Nights were the worst. I tried to get all my sleeping in from about four p.m. to midnight. Or what I thought was four p.m. to midnight based on sunrise and sunset. Then I would stay awake listening to the trees rearranging themselves while I clutched my knife and tried to stay sane.
“Today is the day, baby girl. You’re going to meet Daddy soon,” I told her, the incline of the mountain getting steeper as I hiked.
If Daddy is still alive, I thought, and then scolded myself. I couldn’t think like that. I needed to focus on getting out of here, restoring the magic to the Paladin people, and then finding Sawyer and my family.
Sweat dripped from my forehead as the morning sun rose high in the sky. The no underwear thing was kind of cool because once you got a good breeze going up there, it was refreshing. Add that to things I never thought I would think.
Pulling out a hunk of the smoked rabbit meat, I chewed it and then chugged it down with water. I was worried I wasn’t getting my folic acid or whatever was in those giant prenatal vitamins but I hadn’t lost any weight thanks to finding the cabin and notes and all the tools. I had plenty of fish, rabbit, wild dandelion salad, small potatoes like tubers, and blueberries.
Take that, you paleo bitches.
I just hoped that was enough for my kid to be healthy. There were no pesticides or GMO’s out here in the wild, so that was a step in the right direction, right?
Run had drawn a map to an artesian spring, where I hauled all of my water once a week. There was a creek where I caught the fish behind the cabin, but I thought I remembered reading that artesian water had vitamins and minerals in it, so I made the extra trip to haul that and drink it. I just told myself it was a folic acid artesian well and then stopped thinking about it. Nobody ever did their unborn baby good by worrying about things they couldn’t change.
In a few more long strides, I reached the top of the mountain, the place that Run, Red, and every other alpha before me said the cave was, and my rope pulled taut as usual. The mountain didn’t change, only the forest floor. I was okay to unhook and explore the mountain so long as I could make it back to this point. Untying the twine from my leg, I hooked it onto the peg stick I kept at the top of the path, then I sat down for a water break and planned out today’s strategy.
To cover more ground, I’d call out my wolf and we’d both go hunting for it separately, something I’d been doing from the beginning to save time. The downside to that was that I found that too long with her outside of my body made me feel weak and exhausted. I think she was helping my body feed the baby or something, because once she rejoined me I felt better. I didn’t want to affect the baby’s development, so I only pulled my wolf out for cave hunting or emergencies.
Shoving three more large strips of smoked rabbit into my mouth, I chewed quickly. I had no salt, no garlic, no pepper. It was just plain old gamey rabbit, but when it’s all you had, it might as well be a gourmet burger with all the trimmings.
Calling my wolf forward, I watched as she crawled out of me in her semitransparent form and then looked up at me, tail wagging, when she was solid.
“Love you.” I scratched her ears, knowing full well that telling her I loved her meant I was telling a part of myself I loved myself. I’d come to rely on these moments when she was outside of me, like having a loyal dog. It made me feel less alone.
“Go left, I’ll go right, focus on smell. We haven’t done that in a while,” I told her.
‘You got it,’she responded, and took off toward the well-worn path that led to the left, nose to the ground.
