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Alaskan Little People are No Joke
It’s been a while. I don’t know why it took so long for me to post. How long has it been? A year? A year and a half? And I have gained plenty of stories to share - while I’ve neglected you, dear friend.
But right now, you’re my catharsis. You, who might listen to me.
I still can’t believe what I witnessed this winter. Perhaps that’s why I haven’t spoken of it sooner. Perhaps that’s why I’m pretending it never happened.
I suppose though, it’s less that I can’t believe it and more that I don’t want to.
Because time can’t alter. Time doesn’t change. Time is time, right? Some missing time is normal, but not for… days. Right? But I have to believe because everyone else says it’s true. Everyone else says that’s how long I was gone, even as the sun hung still in the sky.
This winter in Alaska has been aggressive. Like last year we had record breaking snowfall and cold. Which I loved and adored. The white mountains touching dark skies. The trees bending with the weight of snow. And of course the mounds the plows would make at the end of my street.
I had missed Alaska.
Granted where I stay isn’t the village anymore. I’m in Anchorage. Or near it. You probably don’t know of the tiny towns along the highways. But if you did… well I don’t particularly want you to find me, now do I?
I’ve finally finished processing what happened. Now that I understand what I went through - after a stern tongue lashing from my grandmothers for my carelessness - I can talk about that day I heard a whisper. I wasn’t sure where it came from but it was ancient and spoke to me in Koyukon.
I can confidently tell you, dear friend, that not all monsters are large and hulking. Some monsters are small and spritely. With sharp teeth. And pointy weapons. And an uncanny ability to make the days pass while the sun stays high.
Everyone believes me. Except my father. My father can’t.
Do you know what comes with freezing temps and mounds of snow? Ice. Beautiful, solid, blue blue, blue ice. The beautiful frozen waterfalls that call to me every year.
Every winter I can’t help but be drawn to these natural wonders.
And every year I never fail to climb at least one. No matter how painful the cold is to my scar covered body, it will happen.
It was a normal day for me, all set for my adventure. Well, mostly normal. I woke with that nagging feeling in the back of my skull, as if something is watching, and you can maybe see it out of the corner of your eye. I attributed it to staying up late searching for and preparing my gear.
I was up and raring to go with breakfast and lunch ready to assemble. It was a process I’ve done many times and by the time I was throwing my backpack on my sister came out of her room, yawning. Lazy bum.
“Where ya goin this time?”
“Hatcher Pass. Checking out Hillside Pillars.”
She thought and gave a wave. “Six hours round trip and you’ll probably be out there on the falls with as much daylight as you can possibly suck out.” She stared at me expectantly. “So… see ya at 8 tonight?”
I gave a quick nod. “Yes.”
“Did you check the avalanche warnings?”
“Yup. Things are calm today. And with that, I’m going ‘mom.’”
She shot me a sharp look and stumbled past me to the kitchen. I gave one last grin before running out the door, ignoring the shiver that ran up my spine as I stepped out. It was cold. Very cold. That’s all, right?
The drive was peaceful, I was out well before the annoying traffic that bottles up at those special points along the Glenn Highway and in Palmer. Up the road to Hatcher Pass, getting little spikes of adrenaline as I got closer and closer to my destination.
Once there I chewed on my breakfast, and as soon as the sun rose I was out of the truck, beginning the long trek to the waterfalls. A hike, a river crossing, and a 20-30 ft step climb and I’d be at the main event.
Why am I telling you all this? Because it was the start of a beautiful day. The start of what would be a fun day. A day where I’d conquer a piece of the world in a way very few do.
As I climbed I felt the wind and listened to its gentle whistle through the trees. The shush of snow falling off with every gentle caress. The sound of small animals rushing about to find food or shelter.
A slow ascent, one foot above the other, one axe pull at a time. It was exhilarating. It’s hard to explain the satisfaction of knowing you’re one step closer to a view you can only find during this time of year.
I finished my climb and stood at the top of the WI4 rated beauty and enjoyed the view just long enough to curse the short days. The breeze picked up my loose hair and tickled my nose. It almost felt like it was congratulating me on a job well done. Even as the hair on the back of my neck stood on end and I shivered. I was just cold, right?
Unloading my pack, I sat down and chewed on a sandwich, taking in the sights. The mountain. The pure white snow. The small movements of life. The skiers and snowmobilers in the distance. As I was wiping the crumbs off my now freezing fingers I heard a sound I had become familiar with. One that would always give me pause. The screech of a hawk came from high above.
I couldn’t help but shudder. It’s the wrong time of year for one to be attracting a mate. What danger was it warning others of? I bit my lip and eyed the surroundings. What would scare a hawk in the middle of the day? Nothing pleasant. Never.
I looked up the frozen river, into the trees and to the foot of the waterfall when I heard a quiet whisper. I swallowed the thickening lump in my throat. I don’t fluently speak Koyukon. Never have I had the desire to. But I knew. I knew what the wind whispered. And it whispered in a rushed manner.
“Run, little flower.”
With that there was deafening silence and as I stood in confusion I felt a shiver that turned into a pain that radiated from the scars covering my body.
I didn’t even give the pain building in me a second thought as I began to see movement out of the corner of my eye.
As I reached for my gear, I heard a giggle like a mischievous child. One giggle turned to two. Two turned to four until I could no longer count as they surrounded me in the wind. I worked faster, gathering my things as the shadows began to move inside the trees.
“Fuck fuck fuckity fuck.” I repeated over and over.
I didn’t have much time, the darkness in the corner of my eye was growing. I made sure my bag was shut tight and secure before tossing it over the edge of the waterfall, hoping nothing in it would break. As I tied myself in I looked up the river and the breath was stolen from my chest.
They looked completely harmless. Child-like. But they were wrong. Out of time. I felt every hair on my body stand on end as if the static in the air concentrated. A group of seven came out of the trees, their giggles and smiles almost infectious. Their clothing were winter parkas and pants straight out of a museum and on a couple seemed comically oversized. You’d almost think they were cute. Harmless.
But their smiles were threatening as they bared their sharp teeth and their eyes shone mercilessly black. Their skin would be as white as the snow surrounding us if it weren’t for the gray undertone.
I practically threw myself at my line and clipped in, barely holding onto my axes as I swiftly threw myself over the edge, beginning my descent.
I felt the wind gust through the trees and I shivered at the implications. What else could I do?
I moved faster and faster, beginning to breathe heavily before my feet were on solid ground. Looking up I realized that the sun had begun to darken sooner than I had expected.
I swallowed back the built up fear and realized a freak storm was building. My brain raced through the only thing it could think. “Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck…”
I shoved the remaining gear in hand into my bag, without regard for how secure my picks were outside of it.
And in the oncoming darkness I heard another screech… quickly cut off. But I heard its final word, a voice that I swore should have been long lost and dead.
It screamed part of a name that it didn’t even have to finish for me to almost lose my stomach. Because its name wasn’t just a warning, it was a promise.
Bringing my attention back to the solid land I now stood on I suddenly felt the wind knocked out of me. I stumbled forward and fell to my knees. Catching my breath, I looked over my shoulder to see a vicious face. As the stars receded from my eyes I noticed the movement out of the corner of them slowly gather nearer. I stumbled to my feet, staring at the little monster.
The monster kept its eyes on me as it tilted its head and snickered. It pointed a spear at me and I shuddered. It had begun to toy with me.
“Well shit. Why do you have to do this to me today?” I uselessly asked.
Slowly raising into a crouch I began backing away. My heel caught on my bag and I reached awkwardly for it, hoisting it onto my shoulder as the small creatures moved in. They began giggling, drowning out any of the calming sounds that had been present in the morning.
Suddenly I felt a shock to the back of my head. I saw stars once again and fell forward. More giggling.
One came forward and pulled off my hat.
Another ran up and pulled my hair.
I heard a rip and turned in time to see my pack sliced open.
That could have been my back, adding more badges of honor to my body.
As I was distracted one of them came and dropped snow on my head.
The group continued giggling all the while.
I shivered as the snow melted down my neck and into my jacket. And the horrifying thought passed through my mind. “They’re toying with me.”
Suddenly I felt pain in my right hand. One had smashed the back of their spear onto it.
Just as quickly I was hit in the side, knocking me off balance. I caught myself just in time before another ran up and pulled on my hair until I hit the ground.
I grit my teeth and fought back as it tormented me. I heard a rip and felt my pack shift as one of my straps was cut.
Then I heard it and felt it all at once. It hurt. It hurt more than you could imagine or understand. I fell back when my hair suddenly released. As one of their knives sliced through it. I stared at the ragged end of one of my braids.
Then I screamed.
Then I cried.
Then I felt pain. I was hit across the face by a spear, busting my nose. It was almost as if they were telling me the old line “I’ll give you something to cry about.”
Their giggle cracked into a cackle. Then one walked up to me, their pitch black eyes staring directly into mine. I shuddered and forced myself not to look away.
I cautiously rolled up onto my feet and they simply watched. My pack swung awkwardly on one arm and I held back a growing gag as blood ran down the back of my throat.
It tilted its head and through its gnashing sharp teeth it told me, “Run.”
I could only feel relief that the sun was still high. Though overcast, I wouldn’t be running through the woods in the darkness. I turned heel and ran past the few behind me, barely dodging the stabs of their spears. They shouted as I began running, their giggles turning into a sound so wicked it echoed in my skull.
Now I was being hunted.
I ran awkwardly through the snow and ice, down the route I had taken just hours before. The high knee hop through the snow that has just been obliterating Alaska recently. As I ran the wind gusted and I would get blown off my feet, or the disturbed snow would fly into my face. Still I ran. I couldn’t quite see them when I looked back but I could sense it. They were behind me. They were next to me. They were above me in the trees.
Every time I tripped I cried out and I realized the voice was still with me. Still whispering “Run. Run. Run little flower or you’ll wilt and die.” I felt like it was mocking me. Mocking my name.
Shuddering, I felt the cooling beads of water on my forehead and cursed. Water means death. It means the minute I slow down hypothermia will kick in. And in the meantime I may frostbite because of the accumulated moisture in my gear.
But I couldn’t care about that. What would frostbite matter if I didn’t live? I’ve fought for my life before, I wouldn’t die this time.
My neck grew sore and I could feel that sense of impending doom. And I ran even harder, them watching my struggle and floundering about. I heard a thud near me and chanced a glance back to see a spear sticking out of the snow.
Gritting my teeth I pushed harder. The wind stroked the back of my neck and brought a sharp assault down the scars on my back. They began feasting on my fear.
But I could see it, the last stretch. I don’t know how I got through the steps but when I finally found the river and came to a pitching halt. I gasped and panted, tired and weighed down, muscles sore, bones slowly getting cold.
I made it to the river. I was safe. I was safe from the ones the hawk warned me of.
Until I wasn’t.
Until I heard a hoot, quickly turn into a screech.
I cursed. “Dena, why do you do this to me? What did I ever do?”
I heard the hoot again and shivered. I screamed at it. “Don’t you dare give me three.”
I didn’t wait for the third as once again they snickered at me.
I gritted my teeth and sprinted across the frozen river. I kept my legs pumping and moving until I tumbled over the other side. The other side and into my father with a shocked look on his face.
“Rosemary?”
I grabbed onto him. Felt him. Squeezed his arms tightly as I caught my breath.
“Ha… Ha ha. I made it.” I laughed out, shock taking hold. My laugh was short lived as I began coughing the blood that had pooled in my lungs from running in the cold.
I watched shadows cross my father’s face. Surprise, shock, relief, and finally something I hadn’t seen since I was a child. Fear.
He squeezed my face between his hands. “Stay with me. Don’t pass out.”
I continued laughing. “Me? Pass out? Never.” I stepped out of reach and bent over to vomit the blood that had built in my stomach from my broken nose.
My father shouted and I heard others come running from down the trail. “Calm down.”
Looking at him I grinned. “I made it.”
But then I heard it. It came through the trees. From all around. A swarm of giggles.
I watched my father pale. I heard the running footsteps from down the trail slow.
I shoved my father in the opposite direction. “RUN!”
And he listened. Bless the man, he listened.
He hurtled down the trail and when he saw the others in front of him he screamed at them to run. I came to a stuttering halt as I herded the others in front of me while the giggles came closer. Grew louder. Began swimming in my head again. I heard the swishing of snow falling as they ran by.
“Keep going!” I shouted at their backs until we got to the trail head, falling into the road. I screamed at the others to get in their cars. Luckily my family knows to listen without question. Their friends not so much. More corralling. More giggles. More movement in the corners of my eyes. At one point… a tug on my hair.
I got to my truck, hurtling into the side of it. Without pause I tossed my gear into the back and jumped inside. It felt like the old truck couldn’t turn on fast enough. All the while the wind swept through the trees and bullied it.
“Fuck fuck fuck fuck.” My mantra of the day.
My head began to feel cold while the blood on my face became even more annoying. I threw my car into first and I practically screamed when I heard a knock on my window. My sister Leah was on the other side. “GET YOUR ASS IN DUMBASS!” The movement in the trees behind her was too close.
I watched the final few people get into their cars and I peeled out. Skipping from first straight into third on the dangerously snowy road. I tried to clench my busted hand around the wheel only to be blasted with pain. Still, I continued driving as quickly as the roads would allow.
I was a mile down the long road when I heard the whisper.
“Shhh… shhh… shhh… shhh…”
And the sound of it grew louder. Slow at first then it became all consuming. I heard the crumbling and rumbling of the mountainside.
I looked toward the sound coming from the east and my jaw dropped as I saw the mountainside sliding in real time. Something told me I was safe. Just a faint whisper in the back of my head and the fact that the pain had receded.
With some remaining trepidation I stopped my truck and stepped out. I watched in terror and awe as the mountain fell… and fell… and crossed the river. I swallowed and shook my head and heard another raptor scream in the distance.
I got in my truck, turned the heat on as high as I could. I was shaking. Clearly from the cold, right? With a shiver I threw my truck into gear again and we made our way back to town. All the while the wind mockingly laughed behind me.
“Where have you been?” Leah asked after several miles.
“At the Pillars.” I whispered through my scratchy throat.
She looked at me, pale. “You left two days ago.”
I frowned. “I left this morning.”
“It’s been a day and a half.”
I didn’t respond. Even after her many pestering questions I didn’t answer. We drove the rest of the way home in silence as my brain tumbled.
Once we were home I stumbled to the bathroom. I stared at my busted nose in the mirror before climbing into the shower. Bruises covered my body and my hand began swelling, broken.
I wasn’t even allowed rest after that though. As I ate a well earned dinner my father sat me down and grilled me on where I’d been. Why I had been gone so long.
I learned a few things from our conversation - that I had been gone more than a day. That I hadn’t been seen on the mountain at all. That supposedly I shouldn’t have been alone with others having climbed the same time as me.
It was as I was chewed out I told my father I saw them. That I had seen the little people of legends. What the Athabascans give no real name to beyond “small ones.” What the Yup’ik call the Ircenrraat. What westerners call fae.
As I explained that I had been caught in a hunt my father’s face grew more and more incredulous. Before finally admitting he didn’t believe me. He dismissed me with few words after that statement. It hurt, but I understood.
I was gone only a day. That’s why my father can’t believe.
They’ve never allowed anyone gone less than a year.
#entertainment
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It’s been a while. I don’t know why it took so long for me to post. How long has it been? A year? A year and a half? And I have gained plenty of stories to share - while I’ve neglected you, dear friend.
But right now, you’re my catharsis. You, who might listen to me.
I still can’t believe what I witnessed this winter. Perhaps that’s why I haven’t spoken of it sooner. Perhaps that’s why I’m pretending it never happened.
I suppose though, it’s less that I can’t believe it and more that I don’t want to.
Because time can’t alter. Time doesn’t change. Time is time, right? Some missing time is normal, but not for… days. Right? But I have to believe because everyone else says it’s true. Everyone else says that’s how long I was gone, even as the sun hung still in the sky.
This winter in Alaska has been aggressive. Like last year we had record breaking snowfall and cold. Which I loved and adored. The white mountains touching dark skies. The trees bending with the weight of snow. And of course the mounds the plows would make at the end of my street.
I had missed Alaska.
Granted where I stay isn’t the village anymore. I’m in Anchorage. Or near it. You probably don’t know of the tiny towns along the highways. But if you did… well I don’t particularly want you to find me, now do I?
I’ve finally finished processing what happened. Now that I understand what I went through - after a stern tongue lashing from my grandmothers for my carelessness - I can talk about that day I heard a whisper. I wasn’t sure where it came from but it was ancient and spoke to me in Koyukon.
I can confidently tell you, dear friend, that not all monsters are large and hulking. Some monsters are small and spritely. With sharp teeth. And pointy weapons. And an uncanny ability to make the days pass while the sun stays high.
Everyone believes me. Except my father. My father can’t.
Do you know what comes with freezing temps and mounds of snow? Ice. Beautiful, solid, blue blue, blue ice. The beautiful frozen waterfalls that call to me every year.
Every winter I can’t help but be drawn to these natural wonders.
And every year I never fail to climb at least one. No matter how painful the cold is to my scar covered body, it will happen.
It was a normal day for me, all set for my adventure. Well, mostly normal. I woke with that nagging feeling in the back of my skull, as if something is watching, and you can maybe see it out of the corner of your eye. I attributed it to staying up late searching for and preparing my gear.
I was up and raring to go with breakfast and lunch ready to assemble. It was a process I’ve done many times and by the time I was throwing my backpack on my sister came out of her room, yawning. Lazy bum.
“Where ya goin this time?”
“Hatcher Pass. Checking out Hillside Pillars.”
She thought and gave a wave. “Six hours round trip and you’ll probably be out there on the falls with as much daylight as you can possibly suck out.” She stared at me expectantly. “So… see ya at 8 tonight?”
I gave a quick nod. “Yes.”
“Did you check the avalanche warnings?”
“Yup. Things are calm today. And with that, I’m going ‘mom.’”
She shot me a sharp look and stumbled past me to the kitchen. I gave one last grin before running out the door, ignoring the shiver that ran up my spine as I stepped out. It was cold. Very cold. That’s all, right?
The drive was peaceful, I was out well before the annoying traffic that bottles up at those special points along the Glenn Highway and in Palmer. Up the road to Hatcher Pass, getting little spikes of adrenaline as I got closer and closer to my destination.
Once there I chewed on my breakfast, and as soon as the sun rose I was out of the truck, beginning the long trek to the waterfalls. A hike, a river crossing, and a 20-30 ft step climb and I’d be at the main event.
Why am I telling you all this? Because it was the start of a beautiful day. The start of what would be a fun day. A day where I’d conquer a piece of the world in a way very few do.
As I climbed I felt the wind and listened to its gentle whistle through the trees. The shush of snow falling off with every gentle caress. The sound of small animals rushing about to find food or shelter.
A slow ascent, one foot above the other, one axe pull at a time. It was exhilarating. It’s hard to explain the satisfaction of knowing you’re one step closer to a view you can only find during this time of year.
I finished my climb and stood at the top of the WI4 rated beauty and enjoyed the view just long enough to curse the short days. The breeze picked up my loose hair and tickled my nose. It almost felt like it was congratulating me on a job well done. Even as the hair on the back of my neck stood on end and I shivered. I was just cold, right?
Unloading my pack, I sat down and chewed on a sandwich, taking in the sights. The mountain. The pure white snow. The small movements of life. The skiers and snowmobilers in the distance. As I was wiping the crumbs off my now freezing fingers I heard a sound I had become familiar with. One that would always give me pause. The screech of a hawk came from high above.
I couldn’t help but shudder. It’s the wrong time of year for one to be attracting a mate. What danger was it warning others of? I bit my lip and eyed the surroundings. What would scare a hawk in the middle of the day? Nothing pleasant. Never.
I looked up the frozen river, into the trees and to the foot of the waterfall when I heard a quiet whisper. I swallowed the thickening lump in my throat. I don’t fluently speak Koyukon. Never have I had the desire to. But I knew. I knew what the wind whispered. And it whispered in a rushed manner.
“Run, little flower.”
With that there was deafening silence and as I stood in confusion I felt a shiver that turned into a pain that radiated from the scars covering my body.
I didn’t even give the pain building in me a second thought as I began to see movement out of the corner of my eye.
As I reached for my gear, I heard a giggle like a mischievous child. One giggle turned to two. Two turned to four until I could no longer count as they surrounded me in the wind. I worked faster, gathering my things as the shadows began to move inside the trees.
“Fuck fuck fuckity fuck.” I repeated over and over.
I didn’t have much time, the darkness in the corner of my eye was growing. I made sure my bag was shut tight and secure before tossing it over the edge of the waterfall, hoping nothing in it would break. As I tied myself in I looked up the river and the breath was stolen from my chest.
They looked completely harmless. Child-like. But they were wrong. Out of time. I felt every hair on my body stand on end as if the static in the air concentrated. A group of seven came out of the trees, their giggles and smiles almost infectious. Their clothing were winter parkas and pants straight out of a museum and on a couple seemed comically oversized. You’d almost think they were cute. Harmless.
But their smiles were threatening as they bared their sharp teeth and their eyes shone mercilessly black. Their skin would be as white as the snow surrounding us if it weren’t for the gray undertone.
I practically threw myself at my line and clipped in, barely holding onto my axes as I swiftly threw myself over the edge, beginning my descent.
I felt the wind gust through the trees and I shivered at the implications. What else could I do?
I moved faster and faster, beginning to breathe heavily before my feet were on solid ground. Looking up I realized that the sun had begun to darken sooner than I had expected.
I swallowed back the built up fear and realized a freak storm was building. My brain raced through the only thing it could think. “Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck…”
I shoved the remaining gear in hand into my bag, without regard for how secure my picks were outside of it.
And in the oncoming darkness I heard another screech… quickly cut off. But I heard its final word, a voice that I swore should have been long lost and dead.
It screamed part of a name that it didn’t even have to finish for me to almost lose my stomach. Because its name wasn’t just a warning, it was a promise.
Bringing my attention back to the solid land I now stood on I suddenly felt the wind knocked out of me. I stumbled forward and fell to my knees. Catching my breath, I looked over my shoulder to see a vicious face. As the stars receded from my eyes I noticed the movement out of the corner of them slowly gather nearer. I stumbled to my feet, staring at the little monster.
The monster kept its eyes on me as it tilted its head and snickered. It pointed a spear at me and I shuddered. It had begun to toy with me.
“Well shit. Why do you have to do this to me today?” I uselessly asked.
Slowly raising into a crouch I began backing away. My heel caught on my bag and I reached awkwardly for it, hoisting it onto my shoulder as the small creatures moved in. They began giggling, drowning out any of the calming sounds that had been present in the morning.
Suddenly I felt a shock to the back of my head. I saw stars once again and fell forward. More giggling.
One came forward and pulled off my hat.
Another ran up and pulled my hair.
I heard a rip and turned in time to see my pack sliced open.
That could have been my back, adding more badges of honor to my body.
As I was distracted one of them came and dropped snow on my head.
The group continued giggling all the while.
I shivered as the snow melted down my neck and into my jacket. And the horrifying thought passed through my mind. “They’re toying with me.”
Suddenly I felt pain in my right hand. One had smashed the back of their spear onto it.
Just as quickly I was hit in the side, knocking me off balance. I caught myself just in time before another ran up and pulled on my hair until I hit the ground.
I grit my teeth and fought back as it tormented me. I heard a rip and felt my pack shift as one of my straps was cut.
Then I heard it and felt it all at once. It hurt. It hurt more than you could imagine or understand. I fell back when my hair suddenly released. As one of their knives sliced through it. I stared at the ragged end of one of my braids.
Then I screamed.
Then I cried.
Then I felt pain. I was hit across the face by a spear, busting my nose. It was almost as if they were telling me the old line “I’ll give you something to cry about.”
Their giggle cracked into a cackle. Then one walked up to me, their pitch black eyes staring directly into mine. I shuddered and forced myself not to look away.
I cautiously rolled up onto my feet and they simply watched. My pack swung awkwardly on one arm and I held back a growing gag as blood ran down the back of my throat.
It tilted its head and through its gnashing sharp teeth it told me, “Run.”
I could only feel relief that the sun was still high. Though overcast, I wouldn’t be running through the woods in the darkness. I turned heel and ran past the few behind me, barely dodging the stabs of their spears. They shouted as I began running, their giggles turning into a sound so wicked it echoed in my skull.
Now I was being hunted.
I ran awkwardly through the snow and ice, down the route I had taken just hours before. The high knee hop through the snow that has just been obliterating Alaska recently. As I ran the wind gusted and I would get blown off my feet, or the disturbed snow would fly into my face. Still I ran. I couldn’t quite see them when I looked back but I could sense it. They were behind me. They were next to me. They were above me in the trees.
Every time I tripped I cried out and I realized the voice was still with me. Still whispering “Run. Run. Run little flower or you’ll wilt and die.” I felt like it was mocking me. Mocking my name.
Shuddering, I felt the cooling beads of water on my forehead and cursed. Water means death. It means the minute I slow down hypothermia will kick in. And in the meantime I may frostbite because of the accumulated moisture in my gear.
But I couldn’t care about that. What would frostbite matter if I didn’t live? I’ve fought for my life before, I wouldn’t die this time.
My neck grew sore and I could feel that sense of impending doom. And I ran even harder, them watching my struggle and floundering about. I heard a thud near me and chanced a glance back to see a spear sticking out of the snow.
Gritting my teeth I pushed harder. The wind stroked the back of my neck and brought a sharp assault down the scars on my back. They began feasting on my fear.
But I could see it, the last stretch. I don’t know how I got through the steps but when I finally found the river and came to a pitching halt. I gasped and panted, tired and weighed down, muscles sore, bones slowly getting cold.
I made it to the river. I was safe. I was safe from the ones the hawk warned me of.
Until I wasn’t.
Until I heard a hoot, quickly turn into a screech.
I cursed. “Dena, why do you do this to me? What did I ever do?”
I heard the hoot again and shivered. I screamed at it. “Don’t you dare give me three.”
I didn’t wait for the third as once again they snickered at me.
I gritted my teeth and sprinted across the frozen river. I kept my legs pumping and moving until I tumbled over the other side. The other side and into my father with a shocked look on his face.
“Rosemary?”
I grabbed onto him. Felt him. Squeezed his arms tightly as I caught my breath.
“Ha… Ha ha. I made it.” I laughed out, shock taking hold. My laugh was short lived as I began coughing the blood that had pooled in my lungs from running in the cold.
I watched shadows cross my father’s face. Surprise, shock, relief, and finally something I hadn’t seen since I was a child. Fear.
He squeezed my face between his hands. “Stay with me. Don’t pass out.”
I continued laughing. “Me? Pass out? Never.” I stepped out of reach and bent over to vomit the blood that had built in my stomach from my broken nose.
My father shouted and I heard others come running from down the trail. “Calm down.”
Looking at him I grinned. “I made it.”
But then I heard it. It came through the trees. From all around. A swarm of giggles.
I watched my father pale. I heard the running footsteps from down the trail slow.
I shoved my father in the opposite direction. “RUN!”
And he listened. Bless the man, he listened.
He hurtled down the trail and when he saw the others in front of him he screamed at them to run. I came to a stuttering halt as I herded the others in front of me while the giggles came closer. Grew louder. Began swimming in my head again. I heard the swishing of snow falling as they ran by.
“Keep going!” I shouted at their backs until we got to the trail head, falling into the road. I screamed at the others to get in their cars. Luckily my family knows to listen without question. Their friends not so much. More corralling. More giggles. More movement in the corners of my eyes. At one point… a tug on my hair.
I got to my truck, hurtling into the side of it. Without pause I tossed my gear into the back and jumped inside. It felt like the old truck couldn’t turn on fast enough. All the while the wind swept through the trees and bullied it.
“Fuck fuck fuck fuck.” My mantra of the day.
My head began to feel cold while the blood on my face became even more annoying. I threw my car into first and I practically screamed when I heard a knock on my window. My sister Leah was on the other side. “GET YOUR ASS IN DUMBASS!” The movement in the trees behind her was too close.
I watched the final few people get into their cars and I peeled out. Skipping from first straight into third on the dangerously snowy road. I tried to clench my busted hand around the wheel only to be blasted with pain. Still, I continued driving as quickly as the roads would allow.
I was a mile down the long road when I heard the whisper.
“Shhh… shhh… shhh… shhh…”
And the sound of it grew louder. Slow at first then it became all consuming. I heard the crumbling and rumbling of the mountainside.
I looked toward the sound coming from the east and my jaw dropped as I saw the mountainside sliding in real time. Something told me I was safe. Just a faint whisper in the back of my head and the fact that the pain had receded.
With some remaining trepidation I stopped my truck and stepped out. I watched in terror and awe as the mountain fell… and fell… and crossed the river. I swallowed and shook my head and heard another raptor scream in the distance.
I got in my truck, turned the heat on as high as I could. I was shaking. Clearly from the cold, right? With a shiver I threw my truck into gear again and we made our way back to town. All the while the wind mockingly laughed behind me.
“Where have you been?” Leah asked after several miles.
“At the Pillars.” I whispered through my scratchy throat.
She looked at me, pale. “You left two days ago.”
I frowned. “I left this morning.”
“It’s been a day and a half.”
I didn’t respond. Even after her many pestering questions I didn’t answer. We drove the rest of the way home in silence as my brain tumbled.
Once we were home I stumbled to the bathroom. I stared at my busted nose in the mirror before climbing into the shower. Bruises covered my body and my hand began swelling, broken.
I wasn’t even allowed rest after that though. As I ate a well earned dinner my father sat me down and grilled me on where I’d been. Why I had been gone so long.
I learned a few things from our conversation - that I had been gone more than a day. That I hadn’t been seen on the mountain at all. That supposedly I shouldn’t have been alone with others having climbed the same time as me.
It was as I was chewed out I told my father I saw them. That I had seen the little people of legends. What the Athabascans give no real name to beyond “small ones.” What the Yup’ik call the Ircenrraat. What westerners call fae.
As I explained that I had been caught in a hunt my father’s face grew more and more incredulous. Before finally admitting he didn’t believe me. He dismissed me with few words after that statement. It hurt, but I understood.
I was gone only a day. That’s why my father can’t believe.
They’ve never allowed anyone gone less than a year.
#entertainment
source
| 27,000 mlx | |
| 28 | |
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