- Home
- Alycia Christine
Chosen Sacrifice Page 2
Chosen Sacrifice Read online
Page 2
If you enjoyed
Chosen Sacrifice,
look for
Musings
by Alycia Christine
“My train of thought derailed somewhere in the wilderness of my daydreams and Musings is the result. With short stories gathered from every corner of my imagination, I hope this fantasy and science fiction collection proves uniquely entertaining and thought-provoking.” –Alycia Christine
An excerpt from
“Winter’s Charge”,
a short story exclusive to the Musings collection
If every story must have a beginning, then mine should start on the ice. I was born on the ice. I was raised on it. I learned to hunt while running over the crisp, clear crunch of it. I am constantly captivated by the purity of its whites and the bejeweled depth of its blue hues. As a boy, I once even lost myself on it.
Losing my way on the ice happened as one of my people might expect, in a blizzard. My clan had trekked west from our summer village nestled amid fields of the tundra’s fading fireweed toward the rocky hunting grounds on the coast. I was 12 years old, and this winter would be my first chance to hunt with the men of our village. I was so excited as I mushed my small dogsled alongside those of the adults. What kills would I make this year to help feed the Alawaeun Clan? Would I catch a seal or a beluga or maybe even a walrus? Surely I was brave enough and strong enough now to hunt all three.
Our hunting party left the wooden shelters of our winter village once the ice fields proved safe enough to sled across. We traveled along the snowy ground with the light of the midnight sun to guide our sleds and the waves of the Aurora to wash our dreams clean. I dreamt of many things during our journey, but the dream I remember most was the vision of Nanuq. I saw Nanuq robed in her magnificent white fur with four great stars of heaven encircling her brow like a crown. With one mighty paw, she held back the frothy waves of the green sea. The outstretched claws of her other paw kept the tremulous mountains from tumbling on top of her. And in Nanuq’s lap an Alawaeun child slept the deep sleep of one at peace with the world.
I am not sure why I dreamed about the great white spirit bear. Perhaps it was a type of premonition given to me by the Father Spirit. The clan elders all say that the dreams dreamt under the Aurora are some of the holiest and most important of our lives. I am not sure if I believe that to be true, but I do know that my dreams under the multihued waves of sky lights are always highly symbolic.
The blizzard that changed my life came soon after the third recurrence of my dream about Nanuq. Our hunting party had just entered the less-sheltered part of Mukluk Pass when the winter storm unleashed its full fury. A blur of white obscured the sun, and then darkness overtook the world. We fought against the swirling cold, our quivering lips as blue as the ice deep beneath our fur-lined boots. My father yelled for the rest of the party members to huddle ourselves and the dogs together, using the sleds as windbreaks.
As the storm worsened, my father and I dug trenches in the mounting snow to further protect ourselves from the biting wind. I heard nothing but the storm’s fierce roar until a sound far louder and far worse shook the frozen ground around us.
“Avalanche!” my father yelled. I saw the word form in his mouth, but never heard it resonate from his lips over the awesome shake of the earth. Even so, he shoved me out of our crude igloo toward safety. Fear fueled my legs and I ran with abandon away from the colossal sound of shifting snow. I ran blind into the swirling darkness, using my ears to guide me away from the deadly waves of white. When a wall of rock appeared out of the blinding blizzard, I tightened the leather gloves around my fingers and began to climb. I scrambled up the craggy mountain while waves upon waves of snow crashed into the pass below me. The avalanche tumbled through the pass, burying anything in its way. I kept climbing, unsure of how high I should go to be safe. I climbed up and up and only stopped when my hands began to blister from the near-constant friction of gripping stone with leather-clad skin. I was high on the mountain now and, although I finally felt safe from the avalanche, the blizzard’s bite was far worse since I was so exposed to the winds. Our clan elders speak of the wind as the touch of the ancestors’ spirits. If that was true, then clearly these gusts were the slaps of ancestors from a rival clan who wished me dead! I had to find shelter soon or I would indeed meet death on this slope.
I found my temporary salvation in the form of a shallow cave on the leeward side of the mountain. It was little more than a hole in the rock. It was too small for a full-grown man to use, but just large enough for me. I shoved myself into the stony darkness and used the remnant twigs of an abandoned eagle’s nest to keep the howling spirits at bay. The last of my strength ebbed and I curled up inside my fur parka to sleep a dreamless sleep.
I found not blizzard, but a sullen gray sky when I awoke the next morning. The world that I greeted looked so different from the world I had left. Parts of the pass had snow piled higher than the combined height of three grown men in several places. The snowpack’s now lumpy surface was strewn with rocks and debris.
I found a much easier path down the mountain than my original way up had been. A good thing, since my hands were more sore than useful. I had checked my fingers for frostbite and gratefully found none, but it would take time bound in bandages before I could use them without pain. I searched and searched along the pass for our campsite and found only the splintered remains of a few dogsleds. I found four holes where three dogs and a man had managed to dig themselves out of the snowpack, but everywhere else I met the frozen dead chaotically buried in their new white tombs.
As I stared at the tips of one man’s frozen fingers shoved above the blanketing white, I realized that I had fled in the opposite direction from the rest of our hunting party. That decision had saved my life yesterday, but now I faced the world without supplies, transportation, or the older men’s protection. I doubted I would last the night.
I kicked snow away from a half-buried dogsled in the hope that I would find food for my stomach and medicine for my hands in the wreckage. I found a bit of dried salmon, but little else of use. I hunkered down amongst the shattered remains of my fellow hunters and slowly ate the smoky salmon spiced with the saltiness of my own quiet tears.
Darkness soon found me, but I no longer cared. I had tried to follow the surviving man’s and dogs’ tracks, but the night’s winds had already erased them. Then I had decided to wait out the day to see if the surviving man and dogs would return. They did not. I tried to remember the way home, but could not. With no place to go, I huddled next to the strewn supplies of my wrecked dogsled and tried to build a fire from its splintered wood to help me keep warm.
I stayed next to the graves of my clan members long after the fire died, the temperature dropped, and the winds rose again. I was trembling so violently that I was sure I would break my chattering teeth before the end, but if I must die, then at least I would die alongside my kin.
A shuffling sound roused me from my fevered thoughts and I looked up to see a miracle materialize out of the starry darkness. The miracle came in the form of one of the most dangerous creatures an Alawaeun hunter can encounter: a polar bear.
I wish I could tell you that I behaved in a manner befitting my new status as an Alawaeun warrior, but I am ashamed to say that I did not. When I first saw the bear, I screamed like a woman. Meeting death was about to be far more painful for me than it had been even for my frozen clansmen.
As the bear moved closer, I shut my eyes and waited for the strong swipe of a paw to permanently tear my spirit free of my body. I waited and waited, but death did not come. Finally, I cautiously peeked with one eye at the world around me. My eyes widened when I found the bear simply sitting in the snow and watching me. Although I am no judge of emotions in animals, I remember thinking that she seemed quite sad.
“What are you doing here, young one?” the polar bear asked.
My mouth fell open in surprise. Surely I was dreaming. Surely the Aurora had given me some last wild vision
of peace before death finally claimed me.
She repeated the question and I quickly sat up against the cold stone wall behind me. “How can you speak? What are you?”
The polar bear slowly shifted her head, studying me with an expression far different from any other predator’s that I had ever seen. “I am your guardian…for now at least,” she said.
“My father once told me the story of how the Father Spirit sent an orca guardian to save a warrior from drowning,” I replied. “The orca used the warrior’s fishing net to drag his leaking boat back to shore. I have heard the same sorts of stories about belugas and ravens, but never a polar bear.”
“Never a polar bear…” The sadness seemed to deepen in her dark eyes. “It is true that my kind and yours are often enemies, but not even I will thwart the Father Spirit when he decides to favor one of man.”
I said nothing.
“Come,” she said as she rolled her massive body back onto her four large paws. “You need warmth and food and you will find neither here.”
I crossed my arms in stubbornness and stayed firmly seated on the tumbled ice and snow. If it was even possible, she laughed when she saw my resoluteness. “Come, young one,” she said to me. “Death has no purpose for you yet.”
I took a step toward her and then stopped again in uncertainty. “Where are you taking me?”
“Home to your village, of course…”
Musings Coming Soon! Find out more at AlyciaChristine.com.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, incidents, and dialogue are drawn from the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. All characters are fictional, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
“Chosen Sacrifice” first published at AlyciaChristine.com, 2013. Copyright © 2013 by Alycia C. Cooke
Excerpt from Musings copyright © 2014 by Alycia Christine
Cover illustration and design by Alycia Christine
Cover copyright © 2014 by Purple Thorn Press
Purple Thorn Press books may be purchased for educational, business, or for sales and promotional use. Please contact Purple Thorn Press for more information.
Purple Thorn Press logo designed by Alycia Christine.
Alycia Christine
https://www.AlyciaChristine.com
Purple Thorn Press
https://www.PurpleThornPress.com
ISBN 978-1-941588-12-3
Thank you for reading books on Archive.BookFrom.Net
Share this book with friends
Chosen Sacrifice,
look for
Musings
by Alycia Christine
“My train of thought derailed somewhere in the wilderness of my daydreams and Musings is the result. With short stories gathered from every corner of my imagination, I hope this fantasy and science fiction collection proves uniquely entertaining and thought-provoking.” –Alycia Christine
An excerpt from
“Winter’s Charge”,
a short story exclusive to the Musings collection
If every story must have a beginning, then mine should start on the ice. I was born on the ice. I was raised on it. I learned to hunt while running over the crisp, clear crunch of it. I am constantly captivated by the purity of its whites and the bejeweled depth of its blue hues. As a boy, I once even lost myself on it.
Losing my way on the ice happened as one of my people might expect, in a blizzard. My clan had trekked west from our summer village nestled amid fields of the tundra’s fading fireweed toward the rocky hunting grounds on the coast. I was 12 years old, and this winter would be my first chance to hunt with the men of our village. I was so excited as I mushed my small dogsled alongside those of the adults. What kills would I make this year to help feed the Alawaeun Clan? Would I catch a seal or a beluga or maybe even a walrus? Surely I was brave enough and strong enough now to hunt all three.
Our hunting party left the wooden shelters of our winter village once the ice fields proved safe enough to sled across. We traveled along the snowy ground with the light of the midnight sun to guide our sleds and the waves of the Aurora to wash our dreams clean. I dreamt of many things during our journey, but the dream I remember most was the vision of Nanuq. I saw Nanuq robed in her magnificent white fur with four great stars of heaven encircling her brow like a crown. With one mighty paw, she held back the frothy waves of the green sea. The outstretched claws of her other paw kept the tremulous mountains from tumbling on top of her. And in Nanuq’s lap an Alawaeun child slept the deep sleep of one at peace with the world.
I am not sure why I dreamed about the great white spirit bear. Perhaps it was a type of premonition given to me by the Father Spirit. The clan elders all say that the dreams dreamt under the Aurora are some of the holiest and most important of our lives. I am not sure if I believe that to be true, but I do know that my dreams under the multihued waves of sky lights are always highly symbolic.
The blizzard that changed my life came soon after the third recurrence of my dream about Nanuq. Our hunting party had just entered the less-sheltered part of Mukluk Pass when the winter storm unleashed its full fury. A blur of white obscured the sun, and then darkness overtook the world. We fought against the swirling cold, our quivering lips as blue as the ice deep beneath our fur-lined boots. My father yelled for the rest of the party members to huddle ourselves and the dogs together, using the sleds as windbreaks.
As the storm worsened, my father and I dug trenches in the mounting snow to further protect ourselves from the biting wind. I heard nothing but the storm’s fierce roar until a sound far louder and far worse shook the frozen ground around us.
“Avalanche!” my father yelled. I saw the word form in his mouth, but never heard it resonate from his lips over the awesome shake of the earth. Even so, he shoved me out of our crude igloo toward safety. Fear fueled my legs and I ran with abandon away from the colossal sound of shifting snow. I ran blind into the swirling darkness, using my ears to guide me away from the deadly waves of white. When a wall of rock appeared out of the blinding blizzard, I tightened the leather gloves around my fingers and began to climb. I scrambled up the craggy mountain while waves upon waves of snow crashed into the pass below me. The avalanche tumbled through the pass, burying anything in its way. I kept climbing, unsure of how high I should go to be safe. I climbed up and up and only stopped when my hands began to blister from the near-constant friction of gripping stone with leather-clad skin. I was high on the mountain now and, although I finally felt safe from the avalanche, the blizzard’s bite was far worse since I was so exposed to the winds. Our clan elders speak of the wind as the touch of the ancestors’ spirits. If that was true, then clearly these gusts were the slaps of ancestors from a rival clan who wished me dead! I had to find shelter soon or I would indeed meet death on this slope.
I found my temporary salvation in the form of a shallow cave on the leeward side of the mountain. It was little more than a hole in the rock. It was too small for a full-grown man to use, but just large enough for me. I shoved myself into the stony darkness and used the remnant twigs of an abandoned eagle’s nest to keep the howling spirits at bay. The last of my strength ebbed and I curled up inside my fur parka to sleep a dreamless sleep.
I found not blizzard, but a sullen gray sky when I awoke the next morning. The world that I greeted looked so different from the world I had left. Parts of the pass had snow piled higher than the combined height of three grown men in several places. The snowpack’s now lumpy surface was strewn with rocks and debris.
I found a much easier path down the mountain than my original way up had been. A good thing, since my hands were more sore than useful. I had checked my fingers for frostbite and gratefully found none, but it would take time bound in bandages before I could use them without pain. I searched and searched along the pass for our campsite and found only the splintered remains of a few dogsleds. I found four holes where three dogs and a man had managed to dig themselves out of the snowpack, but everywhere else I met the frozen dead chaotically buried in their new white tombs.
As I stared at the tips of one man’s frozen fingers shoved above the blanketing white, I realized that I had fled in the opposite direction from the rest of our hunting party. That decision had saved my life yesterday, but now I faced the world without supplies, transportation, or the older men’s protection. I doubted I would last the night.
I kicked snow away from a half-buried dogsled in the hope that I would find food for my stomach and medicine for my hands in the wreckage. I found a bit of dried salmon, but little else of use. I hunkered down amongst the shattered remains of my fellow hunters and slowly ate the smoky salmon spiced with the saltiness of my own quiet tears.
Darkness soon found me, but I no longer cared. I had tried to follow the surviving man’s and dogs’ tracks, but the night’s winds had already erased them. Then I had decided to wait out the day to see if the surviving man and dogs would return. They did not. I tried to remember the way home, but could not. With no place to go, I huddled next to the strewn supplies of my wrecked dogsled and tried to build a fire from its splintered wood to help me keep warm.
I stayed next to the graves of my clan members long after the fire died, the temperature dropped, and the winds rose again. I was trembling so violently that I was sure I would break my chattering teeth before the end, but if I must die, then at least I would die alongside my kin.
A shuffling sound roused me from my fevered thoughts and I looked up to see a miracle materialize out of the starry darkness. The miracle came in the form of one of the most dangerous creatures an Alawaeun hunter can encounter: a polar bear.
I wish I could tell you that I behaved in a manner befitting my new status as an Alawaeun warrior, but I am ashamed to say that I did not. When I first saw the bear, I screamed like a woman. Meeting death was about to be far more painful for me than it had been even for my frozen clansmen.
As the bear moved closer, I shut my eyes and waited for the strong swipe of a paw to permanently tear my spirit free of my body. I waited and waited, but death did not come. Finally, I cautiously peeked with one eye at the world around me. My eyes widened when I found the bear simply sitting in the snow and watching me. Although I am no judge of emotions in animals, I remember thinking that she seemed quite sad.
“What are you doing here, young one?” the polar bear asked.
My mouth fell open in surprise. Surely I was dreaming. Surely the Aurora had given me some last wild vision
of peace before death finally claimed me.
She repeated the question and I quickly sat up against the cold stone wall behind me. “How can you speak? What are you?”
The polar bear slowly shifted her head, studying me with an expression far different from any other predator’s that I had ever seen. “I am your guardian…for now at least,” she said.
“My father once told me the story of how the Father Spirit sent an orca guardian to save a warrior from drowning,” I replied. “The orca used the warrior’s fishing net to drag his leaking boat back to shore. I have heard the same sorts of stories about belugas and ravens, but never a polar bear.”
“Never a polar bear…” The sadness seemed to deepen in her dark eyes. “It is true that my kind and yours are often enemies, but not even I will thwart the Father Spirit when he decides to favor one of man.”
I said nothing.
“Come,” she said as she rolled her massive body back onto her four large paws. “You need warmth and food and you will find neither here.”
I crossed my arms in stubbornness and stayed firmly seated on the tumbled ice and snow. If it was even possible, she laughed when she saw my resoluteness. “Come, young one,” she said to me. “Death has no purpose for you yet.”
I took a step toward her and then stopped again in uncertainty. “Where are you taking me?”
“Home to your village, of course…”
Musings Coming Soon! Find out more at AlyciaChristine.com.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, incidents, and dialogue are drawn from the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. All characters are fictional, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
“Chosen Sacrifice” first published at AlyciaChristine.com, 2013. Copyright © 2013 by Alycia C. Cooke
Excerpt from Musings copyright © 2014 by Alycia Christine
Cover illustration and design by Alycia Christine
Cover copyright © 2014 by Purple Thorn Press
Purple Thorn Press books may be purchased for educational, business, or for sales and promotional use. Please contact Purple Thorn Press for more information.
Purple Thorn Press logo designed by Alycia Christine.
Alycia Christine
https://www.AlyciaChristine.com
Purple Thorn Press
https://www.PurpleThornPress.com
ISBN 978-1-941588-12-3
Thank you for reading books on Archive.BookFrom.Net
Share this book with friends
Of Kelpie Lullabies
One Heart