Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 83205 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 416(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83205 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 416(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
"I know," I whisper. And I do.
We'll take things as we always do, one day at a time.
CHAPTER
NINETEEN
WEEKS LATER
CORVAK
This is a problem, I decide, as I survey my "army". Where I once had maybe two dozen snow-people to train and monitor, there are now hundreds. The more that arrive, the more that my training is harder to enforce.
And the more that arrive, the more badly behaved all of them become.
Aidy was right all along.
I wanted to believe that I could mold them into an army, but all they are is a massive problem. They are messy. They are violent. They are loud, because they never remember that they are to be quiet.
The only things that they remember are that they worship me as their Great One, for some reason…and that they want to be fed.
Always, always, they want to be fed.
My Aidy worries that they will turn on us if we do not continue to feed them, so while I go out amongst them every day in the hopes of forming them into an army, she continues to cook and hand out food. It is as if they have forgotten how to take care of themselves now that we are doing so. They know how to hunt well enough, but instead of eating their own kills or cooking them, they bring them to our cave for Aidy to prepare. She does what she can, but it is never enough, and every night, the sound of vicious fights in the valley below echo around us, the ones who did not get to eat taking it out on their neighbors.
Aidy has not complained again, but I know she worries.
I worry, too. When I look out over the valley, I see a sea of dirty white heads, and hundreds of glowing eyes all looking to me for guidance. They want me to do something for them…but what? Aidy talks to them, and I have learned a few of the signals, but so far they have not said what it is they want.
I am their Great One and so they follow.
And follow.
And follow.
This morning, I walk along the edges of the bowl-like valley. Behind me, the mountains rise into the clouds. In front of me, the valley with churned snows, snow-people, and a now-barren landscape. Every edible root, every small creature in the area has been hunted down. The valley cannot sustain the always-hungry and always-growing population. We are having to venture out farther and farther to find meat, and roots are not even an option at this point. I am failing to feed my mate.
Using my spear as a walking stick, I head out to hunt. A few valleys over, I saw a herd of four-legged creatures. Just one of them would be enough to feed myself and Aidy for days, and we can dry the rest. It will take me most of the morning to get there, but I'm looking forward to getting away. I'm tired of people following me, even if they're "my" people. I'm tired of the endless hooting, the watchful eyes, the expectant stares.
I thought I'd enjoy having an army for protection. Now I would rather they all just went away.
I set a brisk pace, taking the most difficult route possible to deter any stragglers. I climb sheer cliffs and crawl up loose rocky slopes. I choose places that have no footholds and nearly tumble down one of the slopes. Still, I am followed. Every time I look back, I can see a trail of fuzzy white heads following me. I grit my teeth every time I hear a hoot.
Something has to be done. But what? This is a mess of my own making.
Gritting my teeth against my irritation, I make it to the bottom of the next valley and wait for my "followers". They straggle over the rocks, coming into view. Once they appear, I make the "stay here" gesture that I've learned. I point at the biggest one in the lead so they know I'm talking to them, and make the gesture again.
The big male repeats it. Stay here.
I turn to go and take a few steps, then check over my shoulder, because the smell of them lingers.
They're still following. With an irritated sigh, I shake my head and stare at the snow at my feet as I think. How do I lose them? They're going to chase off the herd if I get any closer. The snow-people are decent at catching smaller animals, but they've chased away all the bigger game.
As I stare at the snow, I notice footprints.
Not so unusual, given that I haunt these valleys and the snow-people do, too. There are tracks heading towards my cave all over the snows from the snow-people that arrive every day.
These tracks are heading away, though. I lean in and touch one. The foot is large like mine, and the trail cuts through the mountains, heading in the direction of the herd I'd seen a few days ago. I lean in, because the tracks are fresh, not covered by the snowfall from yesterday morning. There's a lingering scent of leather…and other.