Alaska, 105 miles north of the Arctic Circle

December 17, 2004

X

It was a lucky find.

Intermittent snowfall over the last four days had buried most of the foraging, but in some places browned scrub poked through the blanket atop. The hare nibbled on these, unfurling limbs now and then to shift awkwardly to an uncropped patch. The winter afternoon was dusky, the sun barely risen over the distant hills which lay sprawled in the arms of a dense haze.

In the wan light the hare was scarce more than an excision from the grey air—yet it was wary. As it grazed it peered at the unfriendly world from bulging eyes. Several yards away a grey shadow flattened against the snow. A chill wind swept in from the west and one of the hare's ears flicked back, listening to it. A split second later it was off, leaping across the snow. Close behind streaked the grey shadow.

The sky looked on without judgment, only rolled on solemnly as skies must do. A sharp-eyed observer would have noted a curious thing: a star was swelling there. A dark pinprick in the suffused glow, visible though it was day. And even stranger- it was moving. But no one saw. Whether by foresight or fortunate accident, the star darted down and beyond the hills. The wolf and hare had no time for stars, intent as they were on their dangerous game, but the star hesitated just above them. The wolf was gaining. One more leap would bring the hare within reach of the slavering jaws...

The star fell. At its back streamed a punishing backlash.

The young wolf drew up short, a growl forming low in his throat. Forgetting the meal disappearing across the snow he arched his head to scent the air with surprise. A torrent of air rushed down, ruffling his coat and he whirled around, paws bunched tight towards his center. The star plummeted down before him, furrowing heavily into the snow and the wolf stood his ground no longer. He shot away, brush tail tucked between his hind legs.

The star continued its awkward slide across the ice, a wall of snow rising around until finally it came to a shuddering stop. Steam rose from its walls; a great heat melted the crust beneath the distended belly until the fallen's feet stood in a shallow, slushed pool of water. Grey the land was, and so was the star. The hare was long gone.

Inside the star, kneeling before a console that stretched the length of the dimly lit room, a bent head shook off the jarring impact of the mangled landing, long lock-like hair flying. The head cocked, breathing deeply without sound and listening intently. Finally, a taloned hand reached up to depress a marked control on the array that was trilling a harsh warning. A finely muscled body, tall and lean, filled the frame of the ship's door; the slab of metal was already rising seamlessly onto the tundra. At once a cold wind whipped in, hideously biting against the star's muggy warmth.

The wind did not drown out the sharp intake of breath and single, astonished exclamation.

"Pauk..."

X

She was starving.

Dazed and weakened though she was, she understood that. So though the snows were deep and the way was not easy, she didn't stop walking. The winds whipped by as if she was not there and her breath's exhale puffed into vapor on the unforgiving air.

Keep moving. Food.

The imperative and need had sprung to mind during some lucid moment and linked themselves together so naturally that she latched on without question: if you keep moving you'll find food.

She didn't dare dwell on the possibility that she would not. She was too...too- what? Was it hunger that made her thoughts turn so clumsily like handling a new tool? After so long, many days more than she cared to remember, she'd learned to accept this gnawing, clenching sensation in the pit of her stomach. She blinked dully. A poor existence it was, when one impersonally weighed movement against the caloric advantage of curling back into an unknowing sleep. And hunger was not the only reason why her stomach stirred so...

Her hand sought the rounded swell of her stomach through her thin clothing and alighted on it with numbing fingertips. The troublesome desire to eat had begun to flag just a few days before, and only then had she come as close to fear as she had ever been. When the body no longer desired nourishment, truly it was dying. Death held no mystery for her. She had seen it in all its many beautiful, hideous forms and she was not afraid, but she was afraid. For the sake of the small life warm and growing within her she had to eat—and soon.

But hunger had drained strength, and she floundered knee high in the drift for the third time. She let out a cry of frustration but closed her mouth over the sound an instant later. Frustration, fear, anger- none of those could make a difference now. White flakes clung to her dark fall of hair but she was weary and it was such a small thing that she could not find it in her to shake them off.

Keep moving. Find food, her mind repeated blankly. And with a twinge of desperation: any food.

Far from the west a dark scowl of clouds was creeping in; the contrast against the lightened sky was startling. Underneath the harder crust the snow was light and fine, it crunched under her step. At first she'd glanced at it with small curiosity; she had never seen snow before. Now she no longer noticed. It stretched dizzily without end; a flat, white field near unbroken save for a dark shape that hunched over the horizon. Pausing for the first time she ran her eyes once more around the hazy line that delineated land from sky, then resigned, turned away to thread her steps towards the strange, hunched shape. There was nothing else. She rubbed her hands together, grateful that at least she was well protected against the freeze. Only her face and hands felt its bite. Still she disliked it, this unnatural frigidness that shocked each breath and burned without heat. Never had she imagined it would be so...

The life she'd known- gone. That great loss mourned only by another's somber farewell. Neither would have called the other friend, but he had been young and so was she, and perhaps it was natural that the young ally against their elders. A pain came suddenly, familiar and sickening, and she clutched her stomach fiercely. No! I've lost so much. I will not lose you... The needle-like sensation slipped away almost at once, as easily as it had come but memory pricked now, swift and cruel. Home. Her brothers and sisters. What had become of them? A shadow crossed her face and she hung her head. Her last glimpse of them- truly her last. Never would she return. She could only eat her heart out, longing for everything she had lost: light, color, a brown land, and the freedom of the warm, open air.

Nothing like this frozen abomination.

X

A storm was coming.

Front bared bravely to the cold, back awash in the heat spilling from the doorway, the hunter regarded the colorless air with an assessing eye. Clouds drifted over a radiant sky; a suffused, deceitfully calm brightness that promised trouble later to the unwary. The wind drove a stinging sheet of flakes into his face and he grimaced. The terrain's uniform flatness and many, steady winds made it difficult to approach prey, whose senses were keener than his own. They would be particularly skittish today if they had not already deserted the area to find cover. And haste never made for a good hunt, especially one for food. A bad day for hunting all around. But with plenty of supplies to tide him over for as long as the inclement weather held, he was in no rush. Hunting could wait.

From the east a dim roar of sound echoed and a flock of white birds took to the air, screeching the alarm. The hunter turned his head sharply but the birds circled only briefly before descending unseen to the ground. The land fell silent again and finally he turned away. Whatever it was, it would wait. When the sky glowed like devil-bright eyes, most things could.

The rest of the day would pass quietly indoors but he was content. This really was a singular land. Bleak, cold- he rubbed his fingers together absentmindedly—but still freedom. Such freedom did not come without a price; only fools believed it ever did. He'd been more than willing to pay and it had been a fair trade all around. He hunted when he wanted, as often as he wanted- or not. He consulted no higher order and reaped the spoils of his own wiles. When hunting was good, he waxed full with the bounty of the land, when it was not...he shrugged.

Occasionally, in a reflective moment he wondered at the series of events that had brought him to this state of things. Wondered if like others who had chosen this path, he sought something in this wilderness. A poetic notion. It even made sense; in this land with no trees most things stood out in stark relief. He sighed. What had made him think along those lines? Animals, particularly wild animals, were sensitive to bad weather he knew; it could make them behave in strange, inexplicable ways, although no one really understood why. He smiled, somewhat ruefully now. Perhaps a day like this could make anyone dwell on strange things. No matter who they were.

He craned his neck aside and was rewarded by a harsh pop and the tingling of a pleasantly stretched muscle. Well, he couldn't spend what was left of the day standing out here. The evening and night hours stretched uncounted and idly, he wondered what course the storm would follow. It would be short and brutal, that was certain. The sea had birthed it but to the sea it would never return, dying instead somewhere inland. Still he could think of worse places to be right now, his old ship for one. With a last glance at the grey expanse he turned away, closing the door firmly behind him and extinguishing the heat.

Far across the field of snow a solitary figure pushed on, moving steadily through the restlessly stirring air.