Lowena

Chapter 4:

Lowena

 

‘Year twenty-three: Day fifty-two. No sign of the Next. My search has taken me far and wide, from the cliff tops of Quay Mountains, to the desert of the Rah, the Forest of Ferrell to the Islands of Witmore’s Way. There have been rumours and whispers but all have ended with smoke.

 I have never been so disillusioned in all my life. The Great One may have been just one. My optimism is failing. Alas, this entry has to be a disheartened one. I will keep searching, and keep travelling.’

Darius Cane

 

 

 

 The wind blew hard against Cyrus’ face. He shielded his shoulders and his legs the best he could, but his face felt the bite of the cold. The rocks beneath his feet had turned to snow, even with Cyrus choosing the route with the lowest altitude. The skies above raged a dark grey with a sullen mood. He had tied the spear onto his back amongst the ragged cloth he had used time and time again. He had found a badger, killed and skinned it. The pelt of fur wrapped over his shoulders gave him much more warmth than the cloth.

 A noise caught Cyrus’ attention; it was a low groaning sound. Cyrus pulled his spear from his back with the utmost silence, keeping his eyes fixed to where the noise came from. He backed away slowly, keeping left as he moved. He had heard of mountain lions living up here, bears too and of course there were legends that died long ago.

 Cyrus crouched low whilst pulling the badger’s pelt over the top of his head like a hood for camouflage. The snow had built up in the badger’s fur, enough to appear as a white as the ground on which Cyrus stood. The groan came again, followed by a smash of paw on crunching snow.

 The groan had come from a bear. Large and broad, the bear wandered through the blizzard, nose sniffing at the wind for a hint of food. Cyrus held his nerve and watched the bear with curiosity. The large padded paws pushed into the snow, its claws cut through the icy surface with ease. Its black eyes buried beneath the scoured the white blanket.

 The bear came closer; his black nose hovered over Cyrus. He gripped his spear tighter in his fist, closing his eyes, he took a deep breath. The thought of that warm fur covering the bear made him want it, the thought made him want it at that very moment more than life itself. Cyrus thought of how he could do it, how he could bring down the giant structure in front of him. He planted his right foot into the snow, pressing his toes deep to find sturdiness on the hard ground beneath.

 He blew out his breath before taking a final and holding. Cyrus threw off the badger’s fur and thrust his spear into the bear’s chest. The animal wailed in pain, standing and showing its monstrous frame, paws the size of Cyrus’ head flailed widely, swiping at the air that surrounded it. The bear roared and snarled at Cyrus, whose spear snapped under the bear’s weight. Cyrus fell onto his back. He clawed at the snow for a weapon, anything to save himself from being torn apart.

 Cyrus threw snow into the bear’s eyes, it let out another roar. It was too late; the bear was over him, large teeth as sharp as Cyrus’ spear once was. Cyrus closed his eyes, his heart pounding against his ribs, trying to escape its death. The bear roared once more, about to tear into Cyrus’ chest, but it was cut short, and instead it whimpered. Cyrus opened his eyes. The bear lay inches away from Cyrus, blood stained the snow around its corpse. A girl knelt on the bear’s chest, plunging a knife into its throat, over and over, a relentless force never to be stopped. Cyrus watched in amazement, the girl was no bigger than he, and yet she had killed a bear seven foot tall.

 Then she stopped, she turned around to face Cyrus. Her bright blue eyes looked at his dark ones. Her dreadlocked brown hair was tied back but still allowed to fall down her olive skinned back, she had full lips and soft cheeks. Cyrus offered a small smile. The girl looked puzzled before sighing.

 “Who are you?”

 “Cyrus.”

 “Cyrus?” she frowned and nodded to herself, “you’re a fool.”

 Cyrus’ head bowed in shame, she had seen his act of foolishness and called him on it.

 “But, it takes courage to bring down a bear from an ambush, and you may have succeeded if your spear hadn’t broken.

 He looked up again, bathing in her subtle applause.

 “Come, the Warriors at Wey Cove await our arrival.”

 The girl jumped from the bear’s chest. She walked around and knelt at its side, offering a prayer to the War God Uma before cutting the skin off. She rubbed the blood from the fur into the snow, cleansing it as much as possible. She pulled off the wolf pelt from around her shoulder and cast it aside. Cyrus’ stared at the black painting on her back, just like his though there was a thorn growing from her spiral; she threw the bear’s fur over her covering her life.

 “What is your name?” Cyrus said picking up the wolf pelt and covering his shoulders, the instant warmth felt like life itself.

 The girl turned around and smiled, “Lowena.”