Mawei and Ruffer had trekked through the night and they arrived at the foothills of the Siskiyou mountain range at dawn. There was a low cloud overhead, but they could still see the outline of snowy peaks above them. The stream they’d been following veered off to the south so Mawei and Ruffer stopped to take a drink, knowing there would be little water across the pass. While they were drinking Mawei saw a spotted owl returning from its night hunt holding a small mouse in its talons. She pointed it out to Ruffer and he said it was a good sign.
They began their climb and soon the trees were getting smaller and more widely separated and the ground was becoming harder. Mawei recognized a rock formation that her mother had called ‘elbow rock’ when they’d been to visit Ruffer when she was little. They began up the steepest part of the long climb, both dead tired but continuing on. The clouds had dispersed and the sun was shining, but it was competing with an icy wind. They were almost to the pass when Mawei stumbled on some loose rocks. “You’re exhausted.” Ruffer said. “I am too, we should take a break.”
“How far ahead of us do you think Sanai and Hatcher are?” Mawei asked.
“They had about a two hour head start, but they wouldn’t have been in a hurry and they might’ve taken a rest before the climb. I think we can afford a few minutes.”
“Okay but you have to talk to me so I don’t fall asleep.” There was a rock outcropping that offered a little shelter from the wind so Mawei sat down and Ruffer sat next to her. “I’m so hungry.” She said. “I haven’t eaten since the feast.”
“Me neither.” Ruffer said. “It was a good feast this year. Did you help prepare it?”
“No.” Mawei said. “At the next Gather I’ll be collecting berries or crickets, but I’m not thrilled about it. You have a much better obligation -I think the Chronicle is incredibly beautiful.”
“I guess it can be,” he said, “if it’s performed well.”
“Not just the performance but the stories themselves. Sometimes if I’m bored or having a bad time I think of something from the Chronicle and it makes me happy.”
“I don’t know,” he said, “some of the stories are okay, but to me the enjoyment is all in how it’s told. Did you see Sorchel? She could be saying anything and it would be amazing. She could be naming different types of trees or describing every rock in her wild and it would be mesmerizing.”
“But what about the story you performed? You did it well, but it’s also a great story.” Mawei said.
“I thought so too at first, but the more I think about that story the more I hate it.”
“How can you say that?”
Ruffer shrugged. “The yeti in my story was driven off her wild because of who she was, and then the skills that she learned out of necessity, in order to survive, became useful to the yetis who had shunned her. Suddenly she’s a hero who can save all the same yetis who wanted her dead before. If drought hadn’t come, we wouldn’t know her story. Imagine how many yetis were driven off their wilds or killed who we’ll never hear about because they were never useful to their persecutors. What about their stories? The Chronicle leaves them out.”
Mawei hugged her knees. “That’s a sad thought,” she said.
“If it were me I’m not so sure I would’ve helped the ones who’d thrown me aside. They forced her to take a wild on the beach because they wanted her to starve –then when they were starving they wanted her help! They must’ve thought pretty highly of themselves to even ask. I’d have told them to go starve!”
“Maybe that’s why it’s a great story.” Mawei said. “Because she forgave them.”
“Not once in the story is she praised for having forgiven them.” Ruffer said. “It’s made out as some happy ending that she’s accepted by the yetis that tried to kill her. I hate that stupid story.”
Mawei thought that if she stayed sitting any longer she might fall asleep so she stood up quickly. “Come on.” She pulled Ruffer up. “It’s not too far from here, let’s keep moving.” Coming over the pass they had a good view down into the valley with its three small lakes. Rei’s wild was in the dense forest on the southern shore of the third lake from the north. The wind was mostly blowing from the west, so it told her nothing.
They decided on a risky shortcut, descending a shale rock face that they thought might buy them an hour or so. Soon they were practically skiing a mini rock avalanche and Mawei knew that the dust they were kicking up would give away their position to anyone who happened to be looking up at the pass.
There was some cloud cover coming in and a few small flakes of snow began to fall as the shale gave way to patchy grass and bushes. Mawei led, with Ruffer close behind, through a stand of stunted evergreens and around a large boulder. It was late afternoon and they’d been travelling for nearly twenty hours.
When they reached the northern shore of the third lake the snow had started to accumulate on the ground, and was coming down more heavily. Ruffer was so tired that he couldn’t feel his legs anymore, even as they carried him forward. As tired as he was, he knew that if he could put his head down he wouldn’t be able to sleep. If he shut his eyes all he would be able to see would be maggots.
He tried to concentrate on Mawei’s back and not think about the horrifying vision he’d had in the smoky woods. He knew that what he’d seen was just a waking dream, but he also knew that those kinds of dreams could hold truth in them. Ruffer’s mother had left on a journey eight years earlier, and there was no telling where she might be, or when she would be back, or if she were alive or dead. The snow-yeti blessing could’ve healed his heart, but he was too mixed up with this strange forest-yeti female and her human problems. He suddenly felt very protective of her. He had only known her a couple of days, but he felt that they’d formed a bond somehow.
Ruffer hadn’t realized that he was practically sleepwalking until a yeti call from across the lake snapped him out of it. It was Rei’s battle call and it sounded half-strangled and desperate. Without saying a word Ruffer and Mawei began to run, their exhaustion evaporating in the anticipation of violence.