The Forest, by Ben Greenfield - Chapter 13: "The Beginning"

The Forest chapter 13 the Beginning laden with malnourishment and stricken from sore, swollen muscles and a lost night's sleep, Tink, river, and Terran soon began to fall behind the three Catawan scouts who were clambering up the trail at a rapid pace with their long legs. Already the outline of the mountain peak where the meadow lay could be seen between open patches of trees and the orange glow of the afternoon sunlight. They were making good time and moving quite fast, but the Catawan rarely glanced behind. Terran licked his dry lips as he watched them bounding up ahead. Yet somehow they sensed when to stop or slow down once the humans and the elf could no longer be seen, must possess ear senses like a dog, or noses like deer, or both. Terran parted his lips and took a deep breath. For the past hour he'd been keeping his mouth firmly shut and instead breathing through his nostrils. The nose breathing trick. He had always used to look less tired to river when they were racing or playing, but now he was using it on the Catawan. He didn't want them to see him huffing and puffing through a gaping wide mouth, bending over weak.

Have to look like a deity kind of guy.

He stood upright, breathing through his nose once more, waiting for Tink to spring forward again. But rather than taking the lead, the elf sat on a rock, knees splayed, red faced, looking up at the trees. Feel like someone sucked the lifeblood peer out of me, boys. His voice sounded hoarse and cracked. Anyone have soup? Before he could speak, Terran felt a shadow blocking the sun. All three Catawan had suddenly appeared, standing over them with spears held menacingly at their side. Terran took a step back as the one nearest him reached for the belt near the handle of his spear. Then the Catawan grabbed something from the veldt, quickly thrust his hairy hand forward, and dropped one leather canteen into Tink's lap. His companions held out two identical canteens to Terran and River. Tink clumsily fumbled with the flask, spilling splashes of water on his cloak as he ripped the cords open on the top and held the flask to his mouth. He took a giant gulp of water, then flashed a smile at Terran.

By the looks of it, you thought they were about to quell us like porcupines, eh, young Terran?

Terran shrugged, grabbing a flask. He could feel the coolness of the water through the thin leather. He took a swig and felt the liquid seeping into the cracks on his lips. They don't scare me. They're Scared of us, remember?

Must not look weak.

He glanced at River. Good water, huh? River looked at him with a mischievous smile. He let a small drop of water out through the tiny gap in his two front teeth and snapped his finger and the drop shot like a bullet towards Taran and hit him in the forehead with a sharp sting. Ow. Terran slapped a hand to his forehead, then smiled and glanced at Tink. Tink sat upright and narrowed his eyes at Terran, his jaws set in a firm frown. He stood up and snapped, no more of that magic.

Let's make haste.

He turned his back and began hiking, tossing an empty canteen over his shoulder to the nearby Catawan. As the scouts began to follow Tink up the trail, river whispered into Terran's.

Ear, maybe he doesn't want us to ruin our weapons.

Terran shrugged and began up the trail with the others. Come on. Let's get off this island and find out. When they arrived at the meadow near dusk, it was very much the same as how they had left it. The debris hut built into the side of the tree appeared sturdy and sound, and the wreckage of Tink's machine lay several dozen yards nearby. As the horizon became streaked with red and the sun slowly sank behind the Sea of Nigel, a chill settled over the meadow. Terran wrapped his arms around his body and felt the goosebumps on both of his forearms. The other nights hadn't seen this cold, especially so early. Perhaps the effects of nearly a week of traipsing the island and eating less food than usual had stripped precious insulation from their bodies. He looked at river standing beside him. His arms were also wrapped around his body. His hoodie was frayed, slightly burnt and torn near the back, and the shoulders, revealing bare skin below. Both knees jutted out holes in the legs of his pants. His face was streaked with dirt, shards of grass blades in his hair, black gobs of mucus in the corner of both eyes, cheeks slightly hollow. Brother, you look like one of those starving orphans in our geography book. Rivers smirked. Why don't you go look in the mirror? Terran shrugged, smiling, and pulled his arms tighter around his body, rubbing his forearms to create friction and heat. The cold never really bothered him much unless he was hungry. Father had often had them take cold showers before school, or go jump in the cold pond behind the house, or spray themselves down with the frigid well water from the garden hose after a long day of playing in the dirt. But it was quite one thing to be cold and know there's warm food nearby. And now, standing in the frigid meadow. He was hungry. The soup seemed to have long faded. He glanced towards the Catawan. Two of them stood near the edge of the meadow where the trees touched grass. Their arms folded as they grimly watched Tink's silhouette. The elf was grunting, muttering, and furiously darting in, out and under the flying machine, tightening bolts, tying straps, and flying fixing rods. While precious skylight still remained. The other Katawan, Terran heard the weeds crunch behind him. He spun around. The third Cateawan stood silently, towering over both boys. He locked eyes with Terran. Compassion. Warmth. Terran took a cautious step forward, both hands open in a sign of peace. He took another step. Instantly he could smell the Catawan's gamey odor. One more step. His head was now level with the giant creature's chest. He could feel heat emanating from the thick fur. Handshaking, he placed both hands against the chest. The creature did not budge. Terran felt two enormous hands wrap around his upper back, then pull him close. Heat radiated from its body like a giant stove. Terran felt his jaw stop shaking and his teeth cease their chattering. He hadn't realized he was shivering so badly.

It knows I'm cold.

I'm not weak.

I'm just cold.

The Catawan gently pushed him away, then held out one hand. As the massive fingers opened, Terran saw a knobby bone, still brown with meat gristle and streaked with blood. Food. For a moment he instinctively reached towards the offering, then thought of the big fire back at the village, roasting a screaming criminal. Not hungry enough. He stepped back into the Catawan's chest, then turned around it, wrapped both hands around his chest and pulled him close, nestling him like a mother orangutan Taran had seen at the zoo once. He felt the warmth seep through his veins and looked at River. River sniffed, still rubbing his own arms, and shook his head. You know, earlier this morning, that thing was gonna eat you. River turned and slowly walked back to the debris hut. As his brother's shadow disappeared over the earth wall and into the belly of the fallen tree trunk, Terran heard a familiar voice.

Young Terran, come away from your hairy mother and hold the torch. You can't fix my flying machine with your magic, so you might as well give me a bit of light.

Terran sighed and stepped away from the Catawan. As he strolled towards Tink, head down, studying the barely lit ground for rocks and holes, he stopped briefly to look back. The Catawan was gone. He checked towards the edge of a meadow where the other two had been the meadow was empty. As silently as they had come, the shadowy creatures had slipped away. Clank. Terran opened one eye. Clank. He sat up and slammed his head into the bony branched ribs of a dark ceiling. Dirt and leaves showered onto his head. A smattering pine needles struck him in the cheek and his eyes suddenly stung from the sharp dust.

I'm in the debris hut.

He looked down. He could barely see the outline of Rivers head and body buried in the black pile of debris beside him. The air was thin and cold. The sun must not have risen.

When did I fall asleep yet, Clank?

The unmistakable sound of steel on steel sounded over the metal like two swords clashing. Terran crawled to the exit of the debris hut and peered over the wall of earth. Tink's torch, skewered into the ground next to the flying machine, glittered in the early morning chill as it flickered and glowed. Terran could see Tink's boots under the flying machine, twitching and stomping as he worked, fixed, twisted, struggled, and muttered. He took a slight, surprised breath as the orange glow from the torch and the blue white outline of the moon revealed the silhouette of a perfectly restored flying machine. Softly stepping in the wet grass, cold hands in his pockets, Taran walked towards the torch. It looks so warm.

I've got the ears of an elf, boy. Is that my sleepy torch dropper? Finally returning, Terran stopped. How late is it?

Tink's boot stopped moving, then disappeared. His face, streaked with black oil, popped out from under the machine.

Nearly dawn. I put you to bed when you took a standing nap and nearly lit us both on fire.

He rubbed his greasy cheeks with the back of a gloved hand, then looked up at Taran, his eyes baggy and tired.

Go fetch your brother. She'll be flight worthy by sunrise.

Always leave your campground cleaner than you found it. River smiled as he spread another armful of debris, wood, leaves, pinecones and branches out at the edge of the forest. Even when you're leaving an island full of giant monkeys. Terran heaved his own pile of debris and watched it crunch and scatter on the forest floor. That's the last handful, brother. He looked back up towards the remains of the debris hut. Just the big dirt wall left. Glancing towards the flying machine, he could see Tink bent over the cockpit, still working furiously. As the first rays of sunlight touched the meadow, he focused his attention back on the piles of dirt surrounding the uprooted tree where their hut had been.

Do it, brother. River's voice was distant, faded. The dirt wall loomed into and engaged Terran's entire vision. He he felt the veins on his forehead begin to bulge and a slight stinging chill settle somewhere near his heart. He opened his veins, spread his fingers, clenched his fist, squeezed tight. His head moved side to side as he swept his eyes over the wall. Fists still clenched, fingers clutched and wrapped by a thumb, he reached towards the sky, opened his hands, then violently pulled as though ripping the clouds from the heavens. He felt an invisible force slam into his shoulders and drop him to his knees. On the meadow he heard river gasp loudly. The boom that emanated over the meadow was louder than he expected, as though lit up by an underground bomb. The entire wall of dirt violently exploded from bottom to top, far into the sky, shattering dust, wood chips and big clods of earth high as a tree and as far as Tink's flying machine. Tink whipped his head up just in time to dodge a large flat rock that flew over his head and crashed into the bushes behind him. He fell to the ground, covered his head and looked forward towards where Taran was now, kneeling, lips slightly blue, pupils slowly shrinking back to their original size. Terran felt a sense of dread and guilt as Tink's eyes met his. The elf was afraid, confused, exhausted now, nearly killed by some strange power.

I can't do that anymore.

You shouldn't do that anymore, river whispered. Terran nodded, distracted by a rustle and a flicker of movement in the tree overhead as a familiar nut brown chickadee darted out of sight. The sun was fully risen. The flying machine sat awkwardly on the meadow grass, big wheel in front, little wheel in back, with long metal rods on either side running up the center, connecting both wheels and serving as a fragile skeleton for a leather lined cockpit. A cockpit big enough for one fully grown elf and quite obviously not intended for three passengers. Pedals on either side of the front big wheel, which appeared to be intended for a pilot to pump vigorously up and down, could rotate the front propeller which was rigged to the pedals via a series of toothy gears. These same pedals were connected via a long tube to the coal bucket which hung above the cockpit but below a giant leather dirigible like balloon. Friction from vigorous pedaling could heat the compounds in the bucket and inflate the balloon to create a lifting action. Wings jutting out from either side of the balloon were connected via a webbing of leather straps that converged on both right and left side of the cockpit and connected to two handles that the pilot could tug on to move either wing up or down, slightly creating additional lift and the ability to steer. At least that was how Tink explained the tenuous contraption that they were now preparing to push off a cliff and sail above jagged rocks, a treacherous coast, and a watery expanse full of sea monsters.

Heave ho.

Tink looked back from his cockpit as he shouted to river and Terran, who who had both shoulders firmly planted against the rear of the machine. His dark brown helmet nearly covered his eyes, straps of the helmet clumsily knotted under his chin, and both hands wrapped and white knuckled around both handles to.

The edge of the meadow. Boys, push with all your might and none of your dangerous magic. Just push.

Terran grunted and bent his knees to get lower. He remembered helping Father push the car when they had exhausted the gasoline on the highway and knew that once a machine like this began moving, it would keep moving. But it was still heavier than he thought a scrap pile of leather and metal could be. River gritted his teeth, lowered his shoulder, and shouted over the din, creaks and scraping of the pedals as the entire machine began to roll towards the open edge of the meadow where dense trees were replaced by an open, abrupt drop from the face of a cliff hundreds of feet above the surf.

So do we just jump in, eh?

Tink looked back and shouted as the rapidly increasing speed of the machine tunneled wind into his ears. He seemed surprised both boys were still pushing and not yet in the cockpit.

Get in.

Taran hooked one elbow over the back of the flying machine and tried to pull himself over and in while simultaneously pumping his legs to keep up with the rapidly increasing pace of the entire contraption. It was nearly a full sprint now to match pace with the rolling machine, and the cliff was less than 50ft away. He fell back out, clutching the edge of the machine with both hands. He felt the rocky ground popping, the laces of his shoes up and down and the sharp long grass whipping and biting through the lining of his pants. He felt the cockpit tick tilt to the right and watched river successfully throw the weight of his body over the edge of the cockpit, then completely disappear into the bottom of the flying machine. Riv. Terran screamed over the burning coal smoke bouncing, roaring, and wind. Riv. I can't get in. The next few seconds were a blur. He saw cliff's edge, water, gray streaks of rocks, felt two hands on the meat of his wrist, scrapes bloodying his chest as he was violently pulled into the cockpit, sharp edges of the flying machine painfully digging into his crotch as his body fell in rivers, forehead red with str and pupils dark with fear, standing over him. And then a sensation of floating.

Flying. He was flying.

Jammed tightly between Tink's sharp elbows, digging into his ribs as the elf forcefully tugged handle left, right, left, right, and River's arms wrapped tightly around and hugging his chest in a death defying grip.

He was flying.

Terran looked down at the massive whitecaps below them, slamming into the rocky crags lining the coast of Arctan. With each second, the water shrunk farther and farther away. He locked eyes with river, who was staring back at him with excitement, adrenaline, and fear. Blond hair wild and whipping in the wind, Terran sensed their adventure was only beginning.