I woke around 0400 and found myself up and alert for no particular reason. I decided to get ready for the day. I needed to go hunting before we run out of food, which was to happen any day now.
First was to retrieve my bag from the washing-line. It was half frozen into a stiff form, but after bending and beating it a little, the surface ice crumbled into a dust, which I brushed off. Packing was easy. Dad had shown me exactly what to take and how to pack, it was just a matter of remembering the knowledge which I knew was in my mind, stored away.
When I felt ready, I went to get some breakfast.
Dad no longer gets up when I do, he has no reason to. I don't go to school, and when I am going somewhere, it's always walking distance. Meredith is too sick for day care at the moment.
Breakfast supplies were running low. Mum would have to borrow the ute to get some more supplies, and soon. I took little, I may have to skip a few meals this weekend, but I'll make it worth my while.
Hoisting my bag up and grabbing my rifle, I set off for the long walk.
The snow was deep, and with every step, I sunk deep into it. It was like cold hands reached out to yank my foot down, as if dragging me down. One step at a time, that's one step further from home, and one step closer to the river. The river would be completely frozen now, but if I was ever to get lost, finding the river was my best lead. Animals often lived nearer to the river also, especially when it is flowing, but this time of year, I'll have to travel much further.
The wind picked up, howling in my ears, pulling me backwards. I continued forward, but it was near impossible now. Thunder rumbled above. I prayed that a blizzard wasn't about to come. Maybe I should turn back. But that's when I saw one.
A deer.
Running round trees, sprinting so fast it was gliding across the snow. I followed it, picking up pace. Heaving with each step, panting desperately, but I was losing it, it was just so fast. As soon as I saw it, it was gone. But that didn't disappoint me, it only gave me hope. There was game here, and I'm going to get it.
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The sun rose finally, and the birds sang. The wind had eventually died down and the forest returned to its usual peaceful calmness.
I stopped by a tree for a drink before continuing my journey. I wasn't quite where I wanted to be for hunting. But while I was sitting, I heard a rustling from behind the tree. Perhaps an animal tugging at the leaves of a branch.
Readying my rifle, I silently got up on one knee and peeked around the corner. Indeed there was a deer, slowly walking around in the snow looking for a snack. Quickly I aimed before it could notice I was even there and fired. Once through the eye. A quick and easy death in which the bullet would penetrate through the brain. The bullet also managed to hit the tree behind the deer's indicating I shot cleanly.
The deer now lay there, blood slowly seeping into the snow behind its head. Trudging towards my future dinner slowly, I pulled out the rope I had in my bag. Tying around the neck and legs, I was able to now carry it almost like an handbag. A very heavy handbag. I could comfortably drag it as well if I got to tired. Dad and I used to hunt down a minimum of five deers to carry back on our hunting trips, but that was when we hunted less frequently. There is no way I can carry more than three. I have definitely become stronger, but I haven't grown for a few years now. But I manage.
It had been a good hour or two of stomping through the snow, while heaving round the dead carcass, before I stopped for a rest and to look out for game. I would have been heard from half a mile away, so where ever I stop, whenever I rested, I might as well wait a while if I want more game to appear. While I wait, I pile snow over the deer body. Dad taught me this. It camouflages it. As well as freezes it and prevents it from decomposing, and it blocks out some of the smell which may warn off other animals, or attract wolves. That was not something I intended.
My stomach growled, but it knew that I wasn't going to being fed it anytime soon, so ir quieten down fast.
"Don't worry, it will be worth it." Hearing my voice was odd, and it sounded rasp, as if dry. I reached for my water and found I was running low. No problem, I'll simply use snow. I then tucked the bottle into my inner coat pocket so it could warm with my body heat.
I had about three coats on at once. You need it in conditions like this. Being outside so long has its consequences, I know them all too well now, but it won't stop me from returning. I must return. Always. Not for me. But for my family. For Meredith. If I was to die, it will be for them. It would be for her. But I can't die. I die and it would be like a invitation for the rest of the family to join me, from Death, himself.
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Hours passed. Nothing except the occasional bird. I even saw a squirrel. I must be pretty deep in the forest. They ain't too common on the edges of the woods, but in the heart is where they thrive. My attempts at catching them haven't been great, but leaving a snare out overnight seems to do the trick...sometimes.
I also saw an acorn tree. Most acorns were gone, but some further up the tree were there. I wanted to set up some snares tonight, so I tried to climb up and collect a handful. That didn't go too well. I pick a few, but the frost on the tree made it slippery, so I ended up falling down and landing hardly on another branch a good few feet below. In the process, scrapping my hands and banging my head at impact. I was thankful to be back down with the snow after that. Snow may have just saved me from a painful headache.
My watch told me it was quarter past two. Time to get moving again. Next stop is where I am camping.
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The light was dimming rapidly, birds was calling all around me, an owl came out and perched on a tree I sat by. It was half past five. After planting five snares with the acorns I found, I set up the fire, which was a challenge due to everything being so moist, but it was good...Damp wood and greens is what makes a fire smokey. A smokey fire is what scares away predators like wolves. The wind had picked up a little sending the smoke in all directions. Perfect. But it felt a little too perfect.
I had buried the deer's body and put on my hat and another pair of gloves. I brought a blanket too, which was a grey furred wolf skin, which work well in helping me camouflage and keep the chill off over night. I was ready for sleep. But something caught my eye.
A pattern on the tree across from me. It was frost, like every other tree had on it, but the frost on this tree was different. It spiralled round, and stretch out, growing in front of my eyes. It was ever so detailed. It was so beautiful. I had never seen frost in this formation before, let alone moving widely so quickly. But then, I saw the same thing, on another tree, and another. All in line, one after the other. I couldn't help myself, my energy was important, but my curiosity was stronger than my exhaustion. It was leading somewhere. But where.
Powered snowed fell lightly as I made my way through the forest, and a familiar sight appeared before me.
The pond.
It was empty, and quiet. Not a bird sang here. Not a rustle from the trees. Nothing. Absolutely nothing.
It was quiet. Too quiet, unnaturally quiet.
I remember the story, about the boy and his sister. This place smelled of death to me.
Looking down at the pond, I noticed the same patterns from the trees. They danced around, spinning and prancing in circles, creating perfect, detailed formations. The white of the frost was so pure, it almost glowed at me, the longer I stared, the more they grew in a never ending dance. But then it stopped.
The magic was gone.
I looked up. It had stopped snowing. Suddenly I felt not so alone. The pond no longer felt so empty.
The hairs on my neck stood up, goosebumps rose, my breath quicken. I snapped around. Nothing was there. I scanned through every tree and examined each dark patch, but nothing. I was alone. Nobody else could possibly be here. But I felt their presence.
The boy that drown, I felt him. He must be so cold. He must be so alone.
Is he here.
Is that possible?
No.
It can't be. Nobody else is here. No one! Not a ghost, not a spirit, and certainly not the boy. He died hundreds of years ago, if the story is even true, of course, and he is gone. That's final.
I trudged back to camp and quickly checked around the place before adding more wood and settled into a light but restful sleep.
I must have been extremely tired to imagine all of those patterns.
Nonsense it is. Just plain nonsense, it is.
But is it really?