btw, for anyone getting any funny ideas (not accusing anyone), I have intellectual rights to this piece - please don't plagiarise, though if you wish you can reproduce it with suitable acknowledgements
WHAT HAPPENED IN THE VALLEY? a short story by Paranoid Android (username replaced for purposes of anonimity)
Branin stumbled to a halt in the snow. His breath was ragged, laboured as only one too exhausted to make the effort to really breathe can sound. The snow had fallen heavily today, though concentrating on putting one foot in front of the other he had barely noticed. Branin lifted his head, for what felt like the first time in weeks, seeing a pale golden sun streak the horizon as it sunk slowly to slumber. At least the sky's clear now. The fading light cast dancing shadows over the landscape, but his sight was keen enough still to make out his surroundings. For twenty paces the land was clear. Beyond that, tall firs and pines and leather-leafs and other trees he did not know dotted the countryside in all directions, though at this time of year, only the evergreens retained any colour. Everywhere he looked the land sloped gradually upwards. A valley then - they had stopped to make camp in a clearing at the bottom of this valley. At the top of the valley a deer braved the cold, bounding beyond view over the other side of the ridgeline. A wolf burst from the undergrowth, in pursuit, snatching jaws snapping with delight. One of them would get lucky tonight.
Collapsing, Branin lay in the soft snow, chest heaving, careless of the slush pooling around him, or of the freezing wet matting his gray hair. Gray though he was, he was in the prime of his life. To his left, just in his sight was Mitzi, also lying in the snow. It had been a hard day's journey, for them all. Damn, it's cold-- Yes, cold. Branin had been on other expeditions, had lived through cold winters before, but never had one seemed so bitter as this. Perhaps you're older than you think, Branin though wryly.
Mitzi! Mitzi? Yes, Mitzi. how is she? What about the others? Are they ok? It's so cold. So cold. Cold.... NO! Concentrate. Branin pulled himself to all fours and crawled towards Mitzi, burning muscles groaning in protest.
The team is family.
That voice was not his own. It had been Shodin's - his mentor and friend. He had taken him aside, two years ago now, on his last trip before he retired. The team is family, Shodin's voice came again. Protect them. Care for them. They are your responsibility now.
Mitzi was lying on her side, gasping for air.
'Are you ok?' he asked.
'....Been.... better, Branin,' came Mitzi's hoarse reply. 'I... thought I was ready for... for this trip. I - guess I w... was wrong.'
'You're doing fine. My first time - when we got home, I slept for three days straight. At least, that's what Shodin tells me. I don't remember much of it, really.' Oh, Mitzi is beautiful. Sleek white hair, white as the snow itself, though she was even younger than Branin. Her eyes, by contrast, like dark winter ponds.
'How are the others?' Mitzi enquired.
We do not have the same mother, but the team IS family, he repeated to himself.
Branin forced himself to stand and look around. everyone was there. Little Joya, staring up longingly at a soaring eagle - she always wished she could fly. Farrah, brave and loyal, looking for something to eat, if experience was any guide. Edison, strong and sure of himself, appeared as if he could run another hundred miles. And Talon, head cocked to one side, apparently listening for something. The team was fine. And a short space away, gathering wood, was Gerard - the Master. Normally jovial, Gerard seemed dour today, as though he knew some terrible secret others could only guess at.
Branin tried not to sigh. He almost succeeded.
'The others are fine, Mitzi,' Branin said absently.
For now, they were fine. Gerard had everything under control - they could relax. He could relax. Branin cleared a small space in the snow and curled up in a ball next to Mitzi. He slept. Darkness closed in....
Darkness.
Silence.
Warmth.
Nothing.
Cold.
DEATH.
....Branin woke with a start. Something was wrong! He could sense it. He scrambled to his feet, the hackles on his neck rising. By the moon, Branin guessed four or five hours had passed since he had lain down. The meagre warmth the sun had provided did not last long once darkness fell. The wind was a knife, slicing through Branin's coat, cutting deep. Everything seemed normal. But then again, it didn't. A new layer of snow blanketed the ground. Mitzi was asleep, breathing quietly as she murmured indistinctly at some hidden dream. Talon and Joya and Edison huddled together, sleeping. Farrah was standing a short measure off, peering into the darkness. Branin padded softly towards him. 'Do you see something?' he whispered when he reached his companion.
'There is a smell in the air. Something is not right.' The reply was almost too soft to make out. In the stillness of the night, the smallest sound seemed foreign. A night bird called in the distance, breaking the serenity. Silence answered it. 'Looks can be deceiving. I trust my nose,' Farrah continued.
Branin turned to where Gerard was sitting. The fire had been reduced to glowing embers. It wouldn't be long before the embers gave way to the snow.
Smell? Burning wood-smoke hung heavy in the air - the faint smell of pine. Under that, the toneless smell of the earth as his feet churned the snow. The crisp wind, fresh and slightly tangy and... wrong. Yes, it's not imagination. It came from where Gerard sat, his back to the Team and facing what remained of the fire. Branin moved to the fire, searching for.... whatever it was.
Gerard was sitting, motionless. Asleep. Nothing was apparent. A small pool of melted snow lay close by the fire, though it was quickly freezing again.
And there was that smell!
Branin growled in frustration It is coming from here. Somewhere. Something is not right. He strained his ears, listening, though what he was listening for, he did not know. Nothing. The quiet of the night was absolute. Quiet? Then it struck him. The usual, deep slow breaths of sleep were missing. Branin examined Gerard closer. He wore a large woollen jacket pulled tight, hood up. A large bushy beard decorated his face, but his clear blue eyes peered lifelessly into the night. One hand had fallen free of the jacket, fingers curled slightly as if trying to hold together - they had gone black.
A sound caught Branin's attention. He turned his head - Farrah and Mitzi were coming towards him. 'Master's dead,' he said flatly.
Stunned silence greeted the news, and then a wail. It was Farrah, howling at the night, a mournful sound fit for a funeral dirge. Mitzi joined him. A sound from behind - Talon, Edison and Joya were howling. It lasted an age, or a moment, he could not tell. Branin was surprised to realise he was howling also.
Finally, it was over. The howl faded, and the night was still once again. Branin lay down next to the Master, to await a rescue that never arrived. Forty miles away, the outpost at Solitary Point settled, to await a Snow Dog's deliver that also never arrived.
Copyright, 2006. University of Western Sydney, Penrith. Australia
Edited to fix spelling
