Chapter VIII, Reading 5

There was no need to retrace her steps on her return to Kewero. She knew where she was and decided to take a different way back. That would increase her odds of finding game. She rode Deru out of the small valley and felt the full blast of the north wind when she made the rim.

Deru was not pleased to be walking into the wind and protested by turning his head around and nibbling at her boot toe.

"I know," she said with a laugh. "I don't like it either." She gave him a bit more leg to force him on.

After riding for half a mile, they intersected another valley, which headed in the general direction she needed to take to return to Kewero. Both were relieved to descend into the valley and to escape the fiercest bite of the wind.

This valley was deeper than it initially looked from the rim. A small brook flowed along the valley floor. At least it flowed in the summer. Now, it was only a ribbon of ice. The banks of the brook were choked with a heavy growth of willow scrub, which would provide good cover for any wildlife taking shelter there.

Drawing from her experience hunting at the higher elevations of the Greyfell Mountains, Flindra knew that the presence of the willow scrub meant that this was good habitat for ptarmigan. She pulled an arrow from her quiver and nocked it so she would be ready to fire off a quick shot. If there were any ptarmigans here they would have been alerted to her presence and were now in hiding. The birds would have their winter plumage and would be difficult to see against the background of the snow.

She turned upstream for this was the way to Kewero. Her chances of finding game would be just as good this way and there was little point in riding away. That would only make for a longer trip home, which was not a comforting prospect in this cold.

Deru was the first to discover the presence of potential game. He had a good nose and was used to hunting with his mistress. He stopped with his ears facing toward a dense clump of willow growth some twenty feet ahead.

Without a noise, Flindra raised her bow and scanned the area for any sign of life. The wind was toying with the naked branches and scattered leaves on the ground. There were several white feathers caught along a branch close to the ground. The wind moved these feathers like a flag announcing the presence of the ptarmigan. It was as if the wind was purposefully betraying the position of the hidden bird.

Even with the wind pointing the direction, it still took her a moment to spot the ptarmigan. Its camouflage was excellent and the bird knew that by keeping still it melted into the background.

Knowing that the bird wouldn't move and reveal its hiding place, Flindra dismounted and walked around the spot so she could get a better shot. It was a waste to kill an animal with a careless shot, which could destroy the meat. Killing to eat was one of the few reasons she felt could justify the death of one of Spirit's creatures.

When she had the best shot possible, she froze in position. She wanted the bird to become less wary for it had been following her movements as she circled. If the ptarmigan relaxed it might raise its head, which would give her a clear shot at the neck. A neck shot would provide a quick death and wouldn't waste any valuable meat. With the patience she had learned from her father and brother, she waited, still as stone, hoping the ptarmigan would forget her presence.

After a wait of about ten minutes, the bird finally relaxed and stood to return to its foraging. The instant it stood, she loosed her arrow and caught it just below its head. It was a good, clean shot and she smiled proudly. Roasted ptarmigan would provide a fine meal for Kewero and herself. She walked over to it and field dressed it on the spot. It was better to share the kill with other animals rather than waste any food. At home, she had always given the entrails to her dogs so there was little wasted from a kill.

Finishing her task, she picked the bird up and retrieved her arrow. It hadn't been damaged and would serve her another day. Then she returned to Deru, tied the ptarmigan to her saddle, slipped the arrow back into her quiver, and mounted. It was time to return to her mentor.

Chapter V, Reading 1

Flindra slowly became aware of the cold. She woke up a little more and remembered where she was, and more importantly, she realized her fire was nearly out. She reached for some small twigs from her stockpile and placed them on the glowing embers. Hungry flames sprang up and started to devoir the twigs. Flindra added more sticks to the fire and forced herself to relax in the growing warmth for her muscles had gotten stiff in the icy cold of the cave.

Outside of the cave, the wind howled like some crazed beast as it whipped the snow in constantly changing directions. Flindra could tell by the diffused light that it was day outside, but it was impossible to determine what time of day it was. Not that it mattered for she couldn't leave the cave until the storm ended.

She got up and walked over to Deru. He was sleeping peacefully and appeared to be just fine. The empty feedbag was still over his nose. He awoke and his ears pricked up as she removed the feedbag. He nuzzled her hand to see if she had any edible morsels in her palm.

"That tickled," Flindra protested as she scratched beneath his forelock.

He pushed against her chest and was obviously trying to communicate.

"I bet you're thirsty," she answered. "I really should have thought of that before."

The rock in the back of the cave had several depressions, one of which would make a suitable basin. She poured some water into the depression. He immediately started to slurp up the water and emptied the basin several times, as Flindra refilled it. When he was finished, she gave him a pat and returned to her fire.

Flindra sat cross-legged on the ground before the fire and wrapped her sleeping furs about herself. She continued to feed the hungry flames while she remembered her dream. The crisp intensity of the memory of her night vision filled her with awe. She knew there wouldn't be anything there, but she couldn't keep her eyes from drifting to the spot across her fire where King Meldh had been seated in her dream. The ground was bare of all but her footprints, but she couldn't help but feeling as if she had truly been visited.

When the fire had warmed her sufficiently, she took off her gloves and looked down at her hand and the eagle ring she had dreamt was named Rigga.

"Could it be true?" she thought to herself. The ring was a beautiful piece of jewelry but it didn't appear to be anything more than that. She shook her head at her reaction. All that had happened to her in the last few days told her she needed to hold fast to her faith. Why should she doubt her dream and the power of the ring?

Just as she had practiced in her dream, she closed her eyes and imagined herself suspended in purple. Slowly, the blackness behind her closed lids turned to a deep amethyst. She opened her eyes and continued to concentrate on holding the vision of the color. The power shield was clearly discernible, but unlike in her dream, the aura about herself was invisible.

She closed her eyes and continued to practice with the power shield. She wove the imaginary purple nimbus around herself into a tight, impenetrable shield. The shield would be stronger than the most durable steel and as unyielding as solid rock. Flindra knew the reality of her vision and felt the tangible power when she opened her eyes. A glance to the ring showed that Rigga glowed in violet intensity. The tarnish on the silver had disappeared, revealing the brightness of the metal.

Chapter III, Reading 12

Flindra knew that she had to find shelter and had to find it quickly.  She took out the crystal sphere and checked it for direction.  It still showed that she should continue north - straight up the mountain.

"All right, we will keep following this trail, but if I see anything more promising I'll go that way," she muttered to herself.  She still didn't trust the orb entirely.

The wind was growing stronger and there were now a few snowflakes being blown in from the north.  The temperature was dropping precipitously.

Flindra knew she was in trouble.  She looked at the orb again and saw that it was directing her in an easterly direction.  Quickly reining Deru to the right, they started to the east.  At least the wind was coming from the side and not straight into her face.

There was no trail here and Flindra had to guide Deru around fallen trees and boulders.  Snow was starting to collect on the ground, hiding fallen branches and exposed roots.  She had to go slowly to avoid a fall, which could injure Deru or herself.  The only positive thing about the snow is that it would hide her passage from anyone who might be following.

She continued in this fashion for another hour.  Deru's steps were lagging and his head was starting to hang.  Ice was forming in the whiskers around his nostrils.  Flindra was huddled in the saddle, staring at the crystal orb.  Without warning, the crystal stopped glowing.  She moved it from side to side without a change.

"There must some meaning to this," she muttered to herself.

Shielding her eyes from the blowing wind with her hands, Flindra looked around.  At first, she saw nothing.  Then she noticed that there was a dark area beyond the trees near a rock outcrop.  It was too dark to be a shadow, besides the snow was masking the sun so there were no distinct shadows.  She dismounted and led Deru over to the dark spot.

It was the entrance to a cave!  The opening was narrow, but if she unsaddled Deru, she could get him in.  She quickly hauled the saddle from his back and pulled him into the cave.  Flindra immediately bent down to start a fire.  As usual, she had some dry kindling in her pockets.  She put some pine needles before her on the ground.  Striking a piece of flint with her knife, she sent a few tiny sparks into the pile of needles.  The needles smoldered for a moment and then they burst into flames.  She was careful to add the rest of her kindling slowly so as not to smother her awakening fire.  Patience was necessary when coaxing a fire to life.

The light from her small fire illuminated the cave.  In the back was a sizable pile of twigs and branches - collected by generations of pack rats.  She gathered some of the twigs and placed them slowly on the fire.  Soon she had the warmth of a pleasant fire before her.

Flindra then tended Deru.  She covered his back with the saddle blankets to help him stay warm.  He was wet from the damp snow and it wouldn't do to have him get too cold and get sick.  Then, she slipped a feedbag over his nose.  He stood at the back of the cave and slowly chewed his grain.  He relaxed with one of his hips slacked so his hoof was tipped against the ground.  In the manner of horses, he rested.

She then stockpiled some of the pack rat nesting material next to the fire.  There was enough fuel in the cave to last her several days, which was a great relief.  If the bitter cold continued, she would have to keep feeding the fire to keep from freezing.  She spread out her sleeping furs by the fire, knowing that the cold would wake her and remind her to add wood to the flames.

As exhausted as she was, she knew she must spare a moment for a prayer of thanksgiving.  She had made it safely to this cave and knew it was the hand of the Spirit, which had pointed the way.

Flindra kneeled on the blankets.  "Spirit," she whispered.  "Thank You for all your help on this journey for I know You've been with me.  Grant me the wisdom and strength I need to even claim my identity.  I'm so ignorant of what I must do.  Help me and guide me, Beloved One.  Make me an instrument of Your Will."  She bowed her head.  "Thank you."

She then sat and pulled off her boots so she could rest more comfortably.  Finally she snuggled into her furs and knew the sleep of utter exhaustion.