Artemis Awakening (5 page)

But as Adara rested a hand on Sand Shadow’s shoulder, she admitted to herself that she did indeed pity Griffin Dane, so lost, so alone, so horribly ignorant and vulnerable.

Interlude: TVC1500

Rising on battered limbs. Falling forward. Must cease to fall. Find the breaks. Mend. Move to live. Live to bring death. Death to bring peace.

Purpose fulfilled. Purpose fires the burning heat and mends. Awareness of rising, not only self but that which rises into atmosphere. Riding wetness. Riding above.

Anxiety? Purpose is own. Purpose is self. Must fulfill the purpose. Must. Else fate uncontemplateable awaits.

3

Smothering Whiteness

Griffin shivered and surveyed the snowy landscape. “Since the trail turned, it’s as if we’re back in the middle of winter.”

“It does,” Adara agreed. “That peak,” she pointed, “blocks the sun for most of the day this time of year, so the snow hasn’t melted as much. Do you mind a bit of cold? There’s something I’d like to show you. I promise, we’ll be back in greener areas well before evening.”

“I’m game.”

Adara stopped and began burrowing in her pack. “I have a spare set of gloves. They’re knit, so you should be able to get them on.”

“I’ll ruin them!”

Adara shrugged. “Better a set of gloves ruined than having the first seegnur to visit Artemis in generations catch cold. Here.”

She pulled out two sets of gloves, handed him one, pulled on the second, then handed him a stocking cap.

“Put this on.”

“But…”

“I have a scarf,” Adara said, placing the neutrally colored length of knitted fabric around her neck, then wrapping a loop over her head. “Anyhow, my hair’s longer and heavier than yours. During the summer, I regret my indulgence, but this time of year, I’m glad for it.”

Griffin slid the gloves on. Both gloves and hat were knit from a yarn heavy enough to be warming, without being so bulky as to make the hands useless. The style was practical, lacking embellishments, the undyed wool the yellowish white of old ivory.

“The rest of you warm enough?” Adara asked. “I have extra socks.”

“My feet are fine.” Griffin indicated his coverall with a sweeping gesture. “The fabric is naturally insulated, meant to trap body heat. The boots are the same material, but thicker and tougher.”

“Wonderful stuff,” Adara said admiringly, closing up her pack and slinging it over her shoulders.

“It is, but the gloves and hat are very welcome,” Griffin said as they resumed hiking. “Did you make them?”

“I did,” Adara affirmed, setting off once more down the trail deer and elk had worn before them. “I learned to knit as a child, but I’ve never bothered with more than the basics. Still, I can make my own socks, gloves, hats, and scarves, even a sweater, if I must—they just won’t be very pretty.”

Griffin considered Adara’s casual dismissal of her skill. If pressed, he could sew a simple seam, but make anything? Hardly. As for replicating his coverall …

Impossible. I’d better take care not to wear it out. What am I going to do? Will Adara and her Bruin continue to care for me? From what Adara says, the economy in her village is largely based on barter. What do I have worth trading?

Griffin was wondering how to ask without giving away how insecure he was feeling when he realized that both Adara and Sand Shadow had halted in mid-stride. A moment later, he heard what their sharper senses had already caught, a soft, yet somehow penetrating
whooomphf!
Griffin blinked, trying to remember why that sound should be significant. Then Adara was shoving him toward the thick stand of trees that bordered one side of their trail.

“Grab hold! Avalanche!”

Griffin bolted toward a tree large enough to possibly stand through the avalanche, though not so large that he couldn’t get a solid grip around the trunk. His sister Boudicca was a champion snow skier, both downhill and cross country. From listening to her often hair-raising tales, Griffin knew there was no way to outrun an avalanche. The best one could hope for was not to be buried too deeply.

Or smothered. Or battered by the rocks and other debris carried along by the snow …

Adara was running slightly ahead of him. Griffin caught a glimpse of Sand Shadow’s black-tipped tail as the puma leapt from point to point, avoiding the deeper snow the humans must lumber through.

Reaching his chosen tree, Griffin wrapped his arms tightly around it, pressing the side of his face against the rough bark. Almost before he had gotten a hold, the snow hit him in the back, smashing him into the trunk. His face felt warmly wet. He realized his nose was bleeding, maybe broken. He could hear the tree’s wood screaming in protest, but the roots remained firmly anchored in the soil.

As wet snow pounded into him, Griffin’s coverall provided protection from the worst of the cold. The back of his neck felt as if a hand of ice was pressing against the skin. Long fingers of wet snow stroked the sides of his face. Between breaths, light faded and became shadowed darkness. The vibrations ebbed and he knew the worst of the snow slide had passed. Griffin had no idea how deeply he was buried, but certainly no one was going to find him unless he got himself unburied.

Adara? Sand Shadow? Did they make it clear? Don’t know. Can’t know. If they’re in trouble, I won’t do them a damn bit of good buried here.

As he assessed his situation, an induced learning session from many years past surfaced. First step, clear a space before the nose and mouth to assure breathing. Next, start moving before the snow firms up. The tree trunk to which Griffin still clung gave him orientation, but how deeply was he buried? In what direction should he move?

Griffin bent his head back and looked up, every fiber of muscle aching. At least the snow had stopped his nose from bleeding. Above him, the snow glimmered palely. Hope surged through him—he couldn’t be too deep if he could see light.

Now to get out of here.

Griffin’s grip on the tree had kept him upright—a tremendous asset in this circumstance. If he’d been swept downhill, he’d likely be flat, with all the weight of the snow atop him, sealing him into a custom coffin.

Adara … Sand Shadow …

Images of what might have happened to his companions made a horror show in Griffin’s thoughts, giving him strength. He pounded his limbs against the enveloping snow until they were loosened from the cold, damp grip. The exertion made him sweat—a dangerous thing since, if he slowed down, the sweat would freeze, making him even colder. Once out in open air, his coverall would wick away much of the moisture, but he’d freeze for certain if he stayed here.

Griffin dug for the surface, pushing the snow away, inching up the tree trunk. Fortunately, he was a tall man. Before long, his head broke free of the smothering snow. A tree limb extended over his head. Griffin stretched to reach it, grabbed hold, then pulled himself out of the snow.

Once he was up on the limb, he surveyed his surroundings. Snow in shades of white and grey. Streaks of muddy ground. Rocks. Broken bits of tree and shrub. A bit of tawny gold, poking out from where snow piled at the base of a cluster of boulders.

Tawny gold?

Sand Shadow!

Griffin started to jump down, remembered how deep the snow was near the trunk of the tree, and instead worked his way down the tree limb until he could lower himself onto a boulder that formed an island in the sea of white. Once on the boulder, he snagged a length of broken sapling, branchlets bearing leaves like tiny tattered green flags along its length.

No time to break these off, no time to make a smooth pole. He was sure the golden brown must be one of Sand Shadow’s hind legs. From the angle it poked up, the puma’s head must be deeply buried. If Griffin didn’t dig her out, she’d smother.

Using the sapling as a probe, he worked his way over to Sand Shadow. Mostly, the snow only came up to his thighs. Once he missed a deep spot and floundered in almost up to his chin. Cursing choice bits from four different languages, he struggled out.

By the time Griffin reached the puma, he felt certain she was dead. He hadn’t seen the least twitch, not even when he thrust his hand into the snow to try and trace the angle of her body. But she felt warm, so maybe … Without further consideration, he started digging through the snow near to where he thought the puma’s head was, hoping to get her air.

If she’s still breathing
.

The snow was heavy and wet. His gloves were already wet. Soon they were sodden, tiny balls of ice hanging from the wool like ornaments. About the time Griffin was losing the feeling in his fingers, he became aware that someone was next to him, bent over, digging like a dog, double-handed so the snow flew out between her legs.

“She’s alive,” Adara said. “Keep up what you’re doing. She’s already feeling the difference.”

Griffin grunted and kept digging, but his heart was singing. Before long, he reached the puma’s head. It seemed—as was the case with her kind—too small for the massive body. The warmth of Sand Shadow’s breath had carved a tiny hollow in front of her muzzle; by now the moisture from her breath was causing it to ice up.

Without hesitation, Griffin broke the ice away from the cat’s nostrils, then along the edges of her mouth. Sand Shadow’s jaw dropped open, her ragged breaths revealing an impressive array of fangs. Her tongue came out. She lapped the edge of Griffin’s glove.

“Thank you,” Adara said, clearly translating. “And from me as well. She wants to know if you’re badly wounded. Your face is all over blood.”

“Not bad. I might have broken my nose.”

Adara gave him a thoughtful glance. “It still looks straight, but I’ll check it later.”

Her words came out in jerks between sweeps of her digging hands. Now that Sand Shadow could breathe, Griffin shifted so he could get the weight of the snow off the puma’s flanks. Eventually, they got her free.

“Is anything broken?” he asked.

Adara swept her hand down the damp, matted fur. “She doesn’t feel any great pain, but her thoughts are cloudy. She’s having trouble focusing. Maybe a cracked rib, but she was brought down on soft snow that gave beneath her. That same softness trapped her. She was trying to work her way out, but the lack of air…”

She stopped, motioned for Griffin to step back onto a slab of rock their digging had uncovered so that the puma could move onto the snow their weight had packed. Sand Shadow slowly rolled so that she rested on her belly, then rose cautiously to her paws. Swaying as she did so, she shook each paw one by one, then twitched the length of her tail. Last, she looked at Adara and made a querulous sound, almost like a cat’s meow.

“She’s going to shake,” Adara said. “Her coat is quite wet.”

“Good idea,” Griffin said, turning his head so the spatter wouldn’t hit his face.

Once Sand Shadow indicated that she could walk, they used Griffin’s sapling as a probe until they were clear of the snow. Then they worked their way upslope to a sunny patch. Adara eased off her pack, then pulled out flint and tinder. Griffin stripped off his wet gloves, rubbed his hands vigorously against the already drying fabric of his coverall, and went looking for wood. Sand Shadow lowered herself into a patch of sun and started slowly grooming her fur into order.

“I promised you a greener spot by evening,” Adara called to Griffin, “and I’ll keep my promise, but we need to warm up first. We should also make sure this slide does not trigger a second.”

“I wonder if my crash caused this.”

“Maybe, but I was an idiot to take us this way in any case. Melting snow is unstable.” Adara motioned toward her pack. “If you fill that little pot with clean snow, we can melt it for drinking water. First, though, use the towel and dry your hair. The hat’s soaked through.”

“What about you?” Griffin asked, getting out the pot and towel. While packing the pot with the requested snow, he washed his bloody face with a few cold handfuls. His nose was a bit swollen, but it didn’t seem to be broken.

“I’m wet, but I want to get the fire going. I don’t have a full change of clothes, but at least I can change my socks and shirt.”

“Good.” As he tousled his hair, Griffin asked, “What happened to you when the avalanche hit? You don’t look as if you got buried.”

Adara slid a dry sock onto a damp foot, sighing with obvious pleasure. “I didn’t. I climbed a big tree. I figured that there I’d be above the snow, in a good position to find you if you went under.

“Problem was, the tree I chose snapped when the snow hit it. I kept my grip and rode the trunk until it snagged against some rocks. As soon as the worst of the snow slide was over, I hurried back. I knew Sand Shadow was in trouble, buried, nearly unconscious. Figured you were, too. You can’t imagine my relief when I topped the rise and saw you digging her out.”

She turned to him, her smile for the first time brilliant, even sunny. “I am grateful beyond belief.”

Griffin floundered for something to say, embarrassed by her warmth in a way he had never been by her mockery. Then he started.

“Adara, your eyes! The pupils! They’re just like a cat’s.”

*   *   *

Adara had known this moment would come. She and Griffin could not travel forever in shadowed forests. In her happiness at her companions’ survival, she had forgotten that their current camp was in full sunlight.

She drew back. Then she realized that Griffin Dane’s expression held none of the fear or apprehension she had come to dread. All she saw was the curiosity and interest with which he greeted any tidbit regarding Artemis and its inhabitants.

Nonetheless, her ingrained defensiveness made her snap.

“Yes, they are.” She heard her tone, harsh and mocking, and winced from it. “When I asked you if you could see in the dark, I was asking for truth. I can see in the dark as well as any cat. My eyes catch the light and give it back just as Sand Shadow’s do. It is a useful gift. I thought, perhaps, that the seegnur had made it common where you come from.”

Griffin shook his head. “I’ve heard of some people having surgery done … But you say this is natural to you?”