~ Return To Madrona ~

by

Marilyn Nichols Kapp

Woman tightened her grip on the flashlight, one of the clan’s few concessions to the modern world. The small circle of light slithered along in front of her feet. The cavern floor was jagged, a narrow path of packed earth snaking through a section of fallen rock. Woman paused long enough to sweep the beam into shadowy corners and over granite walls. She aimed back at the floor before hurrying on. The underground corridors were rife with hazards, both nature-made and otherwise.

A few more yards and she stopped again, listening for the trickle of dripping water. Somewhere in one of these corridors was an icy bottomless lake. But it had been years since she was through the tunnels and all she remembered was the constant drip, drip that warned of certain death to the unsuspecting.

The light bobbed upward and out, glistened on damp stone, then suddenly shafted into nothingness.

The chamber!

Woman shuddered, instinctively tightening her arms around the precious bundle strapped to her chest That dark void was a room of horror, a terrifying barrier between her and civilization.

The promise of that other world made her anxious to rush on, forget caution, but she knew she needed a few minutes to renew her strength. The baby girls felt like a millstone around her neck. Her shoulders ached from the strain, and needles of pain jabbed the soles of her hide-wrapped feet. The easy run she had started with hours ago had now slowed to a trot. And the real danger waited outside the shelter of the cave. So did any chance of survival.

She put the flashlight down, shrugged off the bearskin robe, and clawed the rawhide thong knotted around her waist. With the cinch loose, the crude, fur-lined pouch swung free. The sudden weight dug into the back of her neck. She slipped the straps over her head and eased the bundle to the floor.

Quickly, she squatted, unlaced the flap of the sack, and felt inside, fingers flitting deftly over smooth, soft skin.

The potion had done its job. The twins slept peacefully, though Amy’s face still felt hot and clammy.

Woman pushed to her feet and lifted the pouch. No time to waste. Miles of twisting, looping tunnel were behind her now, but worse was still ahead.

She secured the babies to her body, picked up the robe, and flung it around her shoulders. She stooped for the flashlight and held it as low as her arm would reach. The closer to the ground, the smaller the area of light. She was determined not to look on the contents of the room beyond.

Woman crept to the mouth of the chamber and hesitated on the threshold.

The mustiness of centuries permeated the boundaries of the room. Death and decay seemed palpable. Frigid air swirled around her feet, nipped unprotected legs. She was sure that if she closed her eyes and listened she’d hear her name slurred in slimy throats. Evil lurked in the darkness beyond the doorway.

Something rattled, shuffled behind her.

Woman drew the robe tighter around her babies.

Nerves taut, muscles straining, she plunged into the black void and followed the circle of light. Tiny, invisible feet skittered just out of reach of grasping, murmuring shadows.

The pale ray grazed a cluster of gray-white bones. Skeletal fingers curved toward her, forever frozen in static plea. Woman choked back a scream. Whimpering, she sprinted for the tower of rock, which shielded the cave opening from view of the world outside.

She rounded the boulder at a fast trot and felt a blast of freezing air. Ice crusted the throat of the cave. Her feet shot out from under her, and she crashed flat-seated, spun, and careened toward the yawning gap in the mountain. Grabbing at anything, catching nothing, she shot backwards through the opening and sailed over the ledge into a mound of drifted snow.

She lay there a moment, trying to figure out just what had happened. Then the moisture trickled down her neck, inside her sleeves, and the cold cleared her head. She sat up straight and ran her hand inside the flap of the furry cocoon.

One twin stirred against her breast, the other softly moaned. Thank the stars, she had not fallen on them!

Woman stood and brushed herself off. The flashlight was gone, but that didn’t matter. From here on she wouldn’t have dared use it, didn’t need it anyway. She had chosen this night because the moon was full.

Standing in the deep drifts, squinting into the night, she watched and listened.

Are they out there?

Somewhere. Have to keep going.

She clutched the robe securely around the babies and trudged westward through the forest. Wind howled up the ridge, burned her lungs, stung her eyes. Treetops swayed. Naked branches flung scurrying phantoms across her path. Fine powder swirled under the cloak, clung to her legs, melted, ran inside the pelts laced around her feet. But the shiver that skittered along her spine had nothing at all to do with the cold.

They were out there. She felt the eyes, smelled the rancid breath. They waited for the Raven.

As she plodded over rises, stumbled down hollows, she began to wonder how much longer she could hold out. Great white drifts obscured holes, fallen limbs and loose rock. The sleeping twins were thirty pounds of dead weight, pulling her spine apart. Each step sapped a little more of her strength. Only the will to save her children lifted each foot, put it down in front of the other.

Ahead, a virgin hemlock stood shrouded in white. Woman started toward the shelter of drooping branches. She had to rest, if only for a minute or two.

Deep in the shadows, something snapped.

Woman halted, heart thudding in her throat. Head cocked, not daring to breathe, she strained toward the sound.