The fire crackled with a cheerful snap as the tower of burning logs tumbled, sending sparks dancing upward into the eerie stillness of the night. Distant, but no longer threatening, rumbles of thunder rolled between the towering peaks of the rugged green alps before dying out. It would be dark soon, but Shelda did not worry. A fire was something she knew how to make and keep.
The flames flickered low, then died, sending only a wisp of smoke up from its bed of coals. It was time to get up. Shelda tossed another log onto the cooling flames, stirred the fire and grabbed an iron pot from beside it.
The alps were lost in the dark of night, but Shelda knew the way. She emptied the bucket of water and marked a tree as she passed, so she would not have to come all the way out here in the morning. She knew every tree and rock. This far into the forest, there were no paths to follow. She stepped up to the next rock wall and passed through the narrow crevice, winding her way up over the massive stones.
She climbed to the highest point of the mountain and looked down at the flickering fire. If the people in her village were to see her, they would not understand. There was tradition, a way to live and survive. There were certain rules, and certain things you were supposed to do. But there, on the mountaintop, Shelda did all she wanted. She didn't need to listen to the other clan members, or to her father. She just needed to listen to the wind.
Looking around the small clearing, she knew she was alone. No other clan members kept vigil, peering out into the darkness hunting for enemies or keeping the spirits away. She might have been twelve, but she was already a scout: a skilled guardian.
She climbed up onto a small boulder and looked out across the forest. The mountain's edge was sharp and clear to her eyes. She was as far from her village as she could be, yet she knew exactly where she was. Shelda found it soothing, that she could have found her way again and again.
There were no more clouds in the sky, only the glittering stars and the moon. The moon was almost full, huge and orange. Shelda reached up and traced the outline of it. The wind, coming up over the mountains, would soon warm against her skin, so Shelda set out, walking along the path that ran along the mountain's edge, towards the next rock wall.
She grabbed a snack on her way, a small piece of dried venison. It would keep her going through the night. She dropped the wizened piece of meat onto the ground below her, then stepped over the branch and continued her way. There was a fine layer of dust on the ground, where the moon reflected off of it. Shelda stepped over the dust and found herself hurrying, as if something was chasing her.
The shifting of leaves made her jump, but Shelda didn't hesitate, she just kept walking. She could not be caught off guard by anything. There was too much to lose. A dark figure emerged from the shadows, running towards her. She gasped and dropped the rucksack she was holding. Shelda looked up, confused.
He came closer, panting, his clothes tattered and torn, his skin grimy and gray. His eyes were locked on the rucksack she held in her hands.
"Who are you?" He said, reaching towards her.
Shelda had to think fast. The trapper must have been sent to kill her, probably for the meat. She quickly grabbed the knife from her pocket and held it up, keeping room for a try.
He grabbed the woman by the wrist and began to pull her towards the looming mountains, but she fought back.
"Where is the food? I don't have any more." Shelda tried to keep him talking.
He pulled back, then punched her in the face. The woman fell to the ground and watched him warily as he looked for food. The man felt the rucksack and felt the weight of the food. He pulled it open and felt the dried pemmican but the knife was still out of reach. He thought fast and grabbed a piece of wood that had fallen from the sack and slid it towards him.
It was his only chance. The woman was struggling to get up.
The man stood over the woman and held the branch high. She grabbed his wrist and tried to push it down but he hit her in the face with it before she could make contact. He put his hand down and grabbed the food but it was not where the woman had put it.
"It’s not here. You’re lying." He was getting angry. Shelda was trying to get up. He took a good look at her and his heart sunk. This was not the woman He had found.
Shelda stood, wincing from the pain in her face. She was thankful she was not hurt too badly. She stepped towards him, blocking the path behind her.
"Please. I’ve got the food."
The man quickly grabbed the food from his pocket and threw it to her. He took a piece of venison and wrapped it in the cloth.
The woman took the few pieces as quickly as she could, then dropped the rucksack at her feet and started back towards the village. The man looked at her and began to run.
"Stop!" She continued walking and he slowed his pace.
Shelda walked faster, keeping up.
The sky began to grow lighter in the east, but the man kept running, faster now. In the distance, rumbling thunder was heard. The winds picked up, blowing harder and scattering the man's body to the sides.
Shelda ran after him, jumping over fallen branches and sliding down rocky paths. An idea was taking form in her head. They were going to make it. She knew the clans would not be too hard to find, or the other clans. It was a long way, but they would find the others.
She ran faster, knowing she would make up the time. Her village would be proud of her. They had heard she had risked her life and lost it for the food. The woman had always been strong, and there was always more food.
The man had given up now, but there was something about the human that made him keep running. It was the fire, there was always danger. The man jumped over a fallen tree, but Shelda did not have time to stop. She held on to the venison and swung her body to the side.
The man, who was already falling, fell towards Shelda. He was going to die by her hands. An image of the great hawk surfaced in his mind-his time was done. He pushed himself off the ground, then grabbed and squeezed the woman's head. She struggled but could not get free. He banged his head off the tree and his leg and arm twisted sideways. He ceased to move.
The sun was now fully up and the younger clansmen were now climbing out of the underground caverns. Their eyes widened when they saw the man, lying on the ground.
They rushed towards him and pulled at him.