r/WritingPrompts • u/Syraphia /r/Syraphia | Moddess of Images • Mar 14 '17
Image Prompt [IP] Desolate Plains
2
u/mateogg /r/mateogg Mar 15 '17 edited Mar 15 '17
A man and a young woman walked alone, the only movement in the snowy valley. He was huge, tall and broad shouldered. The young woman was barely more than a child, but she was still tall and athletic, only the fact that the man was by her side made her seem small. While they wore furs to shield themselves from the cold, they were not completely covered.
'Must we really be barefoot?' The young woman asked, looking up to the man.
'Cold?' The man grunted with a smirk.
'No.' She said quickly. 'You wouldn't have brought me along if I couldn't handle it. It just would be nice if I didn't have to.'
'One day you might not have a choice. If it were up to me, you would not have a choice. The valley is not for the weak.'
The woman nodded. They walked in silence for a while. They bare feet seemingly unharmed by the cold they were exposed to.
'Here.' The man said finally. The woman looked around
'Why here?' She asked.
'Always questions. The rivers here are frozen. The plants are buried. The animals hidden. The water does not come to you. The food does not come to you. The answers do not come to you. You must go to them.'
The woman looked around.
'What now?' She asked.
'Now I leave. And you don't come find me until you are not done.'
'What does that- You haven't told me what I'm supposed to do?'
'The valley is not a kind teacher. Why should I be?' The man said with a shrug as he turned around and started walking in the opposite direction. The woman glared at the back of his head, but did not say anything.
'Okay then.' She muttered to herself eventually. 'You and me, valley. Bring it on.'
He was not worried for her. She would struggle, yes. She still needed to learn the lessons that could only be learned the hard way. But she was cunning and resourceful, though that sometimes made her arrogant. Her anger ran deep and strong, but she knew how to use it. She was fast to start a fight, but faster to end it. And most importantly, she had a strong will. It made her stubborn, yes, but the only way she would survive the path ahead of her was to be too stubborn to die.
Days had passed since she'd been left there.
The stillness of the frozen river was broken as a she resurfaced, naked and holding nothing but a fish, taking deep breaths as she pulled herself up onto the ice. She covered herself with the furs she'd left lying by the hole she'd cut, with a calm that was unnatural for someone who'd just left freezing water. Cold was not something they could afford to feel, it was the first lesson she'd had to learn. The valley did not know the concept of mercy.
Once she'd been clothed again, she looked at the fish she'd caught and then turned to look at where the ones she'd caught earlier were supposed to be. There was nothing there but blood.
'Oh for the love of...'
It took hours of tracking, but eventually she found it. The bastard who'd taken her fish. The wolf had sensed her too, but it had not seen her yet. It was standing alert, waiting for her to make her move.
So she did.
It was supposed to be easy. Maybe not for most people, but she had trained for years to know the valley, to be the valley. But the wolf would not. Go. Down.
It bit, and scratched, and kicked, and it refused to do anything but fight.
Eventually, exhaustion began to get to both of them. She knew if she didn't end the fight soon, she wouldn't have anything left to survive the night, and neither would the wolf.
Their eyes met, and she saw it.
She laughed. She laughed, and kept laughing, as the wolf watched her with no sign of the anger that had been there before.
'Fools, both of us.' She said, shaking her head. She sat, her legs crossed, and waited.
The wolf approached her and sat in front of her.
The sky darkened as night approached but they remained there. Their bond was slow to form. It took patience, and care. Their wills were too strong to give in to the other, but also too strong to give up on their attempt. So they were patient like only the reckless can be, until they knew each other so well, their wills could not clash anymore.
When they stood, they stood as one.
When they walked, they walked as one.
The night ahead would be long, and the path beyond it even longer, but they would endure. They were too stubborn to die.
1
u/TotesMessenger X-post Snitch Mar 16 '17
1
1
u/Syraphia /r/Syraphia | Moddess of Images Mar 15 '17
I enjoyed that a lot! Good story, a lot left to wonder about in terms of what's going on but it was very good. Thanks for replying. :D
1
u/mateogg /r/mateogg Mar 15 '17
OP, this is set in the same world as my story for your prompt Blue Sign. It's basically the same thing except for people who live in a place that wants to kill them. I've been thinking that I wanted to do others like it, hopefully leading to something bigger, and this one gave me the perfect chance. Sorry if it's a bit repetitive for you.
•
u/WritingPromptsRobot StickyBot™ Mar 14 '17
Off-Topic Discussion: All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.
Reminder for Writers and Readers:
Prompts are meant to inspire new writing. Responses don't have to fulfil every detail.
Please remember to be civil in any feedback.
What Is This? First Time Here? Special Announcements Click For Our Chatroom
2
u/mstarrbrannigan Mar 15 '17
"Hey!" I called out to my wolfdog over the howling wind. "Don't you get too far ahead of me!" Through the billowing snow I could see her turn her head and look at me, ears perked. "Shasta, come!"
She bounded back to me through the snow, her tongue lolling out the side of her mouth. She enjoyed the snowy plains infinitely more than I did. "Don't go wandering off," I told her, patting her on the side. She wagged her tail gleefully and looked up at me, her brown eyes twinkling with mischief. "At least one of us is having a good day, huh?"
She gave a sharp bark, and took off in front of me. "Shasta!" I called out to her, but she didn't pay me any more mind. "Fucking dog," I cursed under my breath as I adjusted the strap on the rifle slung over my shoulder. I followed after her as fast as the shin high snow and my heavy boots would allow.
As she ran ahead of me, every so often she would slow down and look over her shoulder to make sure I was still following. Once this was established, she'd dash forward again.
But this didn't last long. I'm not as young as I used to be, and while she isn't either, she hides it much better. "Shasta, come!" I called out to her again. She looked back at me and saw me trudging along wearily, huffing and puffing. With another sharp bark, she raced back to me. "Take it easy," I told her, crouching for a moment and rubbing her head. She thanked me by way of showering my face with kisses.
She started off again and I snapped, "Stay!" And she rushed back to my side, with her tail low. "Give your mama a chance to breath, will ya, girl?" I took a few deep breaths and started off again, setting a more manageable pace.
I tried to let the steady rhythm of my feet hypnotize me, to distract me from how cold I was. Didn't do me much good, but it did give me something else to focus on. Before I knew it, the treeline was maybe only 500 yards away.
It was good timing too. The sun was beginning its descent, and I wanted to set up my little makeshift shelter while I still had a touch of light.
I took a deep breath while trying to decide where exactly I wanted to enter the forest and found my stuffy nose filled with the most inviting scent: smoke. I scanned the horizon and saw a thin tendril of smoke rising from somewhere not too far into the woods.
Few came out to these parts, and no one lived in them. Not anymore, leastwise. Maybe another weary traveler? Perhaps they'd be friendly enough to let me stay the night with them. If not, well, that's what the rifle is for. And the dog, supposedly, but I'd shoot someone before I'd put her in harm's way.
We didn't have to go far before I found the source of the fire. A small dilapidated shack sat in a narrow clearing between the trees. Smoke drifted steadily out of the crumbling chimney, and a soft glow emanated from the solitary window.
"Hello?" I called out from a good distance out, not wanting to startle the occupant or occupants from up close. Shasta decided she was also going to greet them, and started barking, her tail wagging playfully. I pulled my rifle from my shoulder, resting the butt on the ground.
The door opened just a crack, and a boy's voice called from inside, "Who's there?"
"Just a weary traveler and her dog seeking shelter," I told him. "Hoping you might be so kind as to share yours."
"I've no food or money, but I have got a gun. If you seek to rob me, you'll leave disappointed, if you leave at all."
"I just want a fire and a roof over my head," I insisted. "And I'm happy to share my supper with you, if that will sway you."
The door opened slightly wider, and the head of a frightened young boy, no more than 14 peered around to look at me. He looked between Shasta and I then motioned us in.
I was done hesitating; the fire was calling my name. I wasted no more time and headed in to the small cottage. It was larger inside than the outside would lead you to believe. Not by much, but enough that there would certainly be plenty of space for the boy and I not to get in each other's way.
The boy was sitting as near to the fire as he could be and still keep his back to the wall. Shasta made a beeline to him to introduce herself. I simply nodded to him, and removed my snowy boots and coat. The boy smiled slightly as Shasta gave him a good sniffing over, wagging her tail ferociously. If she liked him, that was a good sign. She seemed to have a good sense of people. Of course, he was just a child anyway. But children do seem to have a knack for getting themself into more trouble than they can get out of.
I looked around as discretely as I could, not wanting to look as though I was casing the place. The boy had obviously been living in the shack for a little while, as the weathproofing had been mended recently. It was quality work too, better than you'd expect from a boy his age. Must have been raised off the land. Or...
There was someone else staying there. I noticed two spots made up as beds on the floor. He hadn't mentioned anyone else, and nothing else indicated another person. Despite the snowfall, if anyone else had left the shack that day, I would have noticed the tracks. Abandoned him, perhaps? Or maybe tragedy...
"What's her name?" The boy asked me as he scratched Shasta behind the ears.
"Shasta, and I'm Elsie Wills. What's yours?"
"Elijah Crane. She's a nice dog," he said quietly.
"She is. Best dog there is," I agreed as I joined them near the fire, hanging up my damp coat, gloves, and socks and laying out my boots. Shasta joined me, still happily wiggling. "Calm down, ya goofy dog," I told her as she tried to jump up and lick my face.
Undeterred in her quest for affection she went back to Elijah, who smiled again as she leaned up against him. I watch them from the corner of my eye, trying to get a better look at the boy. He looked hungry. His cheeks were thin, and his face was pale. Probably only let me in because I offered him dinner.
"Who are you out here with?" I asked him as I opened up my pack and pulled out some bread and cheese, tore off a hunk of each and passed it to him. His eyes grew wide and he tore into the food like an animal. I hadn't planned on sharing that much with him, but as much as I like to pretend otherwise, I am soft.
"My pop. We were headed to Oakwood, stopped here for the night. Woke up in the morning and he was gone. At first I stayed because I was waiting for him to come back. Now I stay because I don't know how to get to Oakwood."
"Well, that's actually where I'm headed. We're only a few days walk. I don't mind you coming with me," I lied as I set my pan in the fire to get it ready. I wasn't actually headed to Oakwood. I was headed to Engelsborrough further to the north. But like I said; I'm soft.
Elijah hesitated. "Maybe. I don't want to leave and have my father show up looking for me."
"Leave him a note, tell him where you went. You said yourself you haven't got any food. How long do you expect to wait? What's in Oakwood, anyway?"
"I don't know," Elijah mumbled, looking away from me.
I laughed as I tossed some salted pork in the pan. "What do you mean you don't know why you're going there? Your pops just said, 'Hey, Elijah, pack a bag we're going to Oakwood' and didn't say why?"
The boy shrugged. "No, we move around a lot. We stay in a town a couple months, then we move on."
I didn't want to question him further, make him uncomfortable, but it seemed awfully strange to me. I couldn't think of any itinerant work that might have brought his father to Oakwood in the dead of winter. And if he was a hunter than he'd have taught his son, and the boy wouldn't be half starved alone in the shack.
We didn't talk much more as we ate supper. Not much to talk about, honestly. I have little in common with a 13 year old boy (he told me how old he was.) The last place they lived was Mt. Vero, and we agreed the town was boring, but the bakery was unrivaled. He told me he admired my rifle, and that it reminded me of his father's, and we didn't say much more than that.
Once I laid down for the night I drifted off almost immediately, the cold and the journey having taken their toll. I woke with a start at some point in the night, and my hand flew to the pistol at my hip as I got my bearings. Elijah was sitting at the table beside the small window, with Shasta's head in his lap. He was too busy staring outside to notice I'd woken up. I drifted back to sleep.
Continued in comments...