Glass Winter | Chapter XIV

Uncle Quin was dead. One of Chief Malcolm’s guards had been bringing him food, and he knew that something was wrong before even arriving at the igloo. At least, that was what Palina claimed.

“His huskies were scattered and howling,” Palina sewed intensely with patches of seal fur, “Nobody cared to check in until Oleg went over with Quin’s lunch. Some people were kicking the dogs. Kicking them. Can you imagine?”

The woman glanced at Aurora with a pale expression of disbelief.

“I’m sorry, you shouldn’t be hearing these things.”

Palina stood up and left the circle of sewists, none of whom heeded her leave. She was more upset than Aurora had expected her to be.

They had greeted each other when we arrived.

Aurora had only known Uncle Quin because he was a friend of her father, the mayor, as were all the hamlet’s mushers. She never found out how Palina had known him, but Quin had been a friend to many.

Aurora had briefly seen two of the mushers in question walking past to their new quarters, Soren and Cara. She had wondered why they seemed so at peace.

Maybe they’re just happy to be back amongst people.

Sowne had ordered their hands, neck, and hair to be checked at their entrance into the commune. Many would have been preoccupied with Mal’s demotion, but it wouldn’t be like Sowne to not be certain that the mushers were clean, so whoever was assigned to them must have done their job properly.

Sewing seal fur wasn’t too different from sewing moose, deer, bear, or rabbit, thought Aurora. Though it wouldn’t protect against the cold as well as the others.

She was one of two young girls in that circle, the others were grown women, all stitching and altering. All, save for Aurora, cursed with sloughflesh, but making the best with their condition. They sat separate from the rest of the females within their commune, who assisted in jobs that asked for physical strain like building and digging.

“It isn’t contagious,” Palina had said, “So we can fish and mend clothing. Just don’t expect to make any friends, even if the rest of the commune will one day end up like me regardless. You’ll end up like me one day too.”

Just because she was born from two parents whom had eaten the fish in the water and the beast in the forest.

“Animals with cursed flesh. Unnatural flesh. Why do you think this place has animals anyway?”

Aurora’s finger stung, a bead of blood pushing up from the skin. She felt her heart quicken, and after dropping the furs and needle she too left the circle. Nobody heeded her leave.

Not even the little girl who’s the same age as me.

She was even smaller than Aurora, with a sombre round face freckled with what used to be brown now become grey. Her hair had paled like an old lady’s, and her skin was just as white. Perhaps she knew that her time was short, that’s why she only worked and never smiled.

Aurora’s heart was still racing when she cleaned the wound with snow from the wall, wincing now that it stung from the cold. The bleeding didn’t stop immediately, percolating the white in crimson rivulets. Aurora ran her hand along the surface and left an ugly smear in the wake. She kept walking until there was no more blood, and a dark red stud marked the tip of her finger.

The streak was ugly; it went on for several feet until fading to a stop and she couldn’t say why she had made it. But she was calmer now, for the white had absorbed it and not crumbled to dust.

Why would it crumble? That’s a foolish thing to think.

And yet, she had feared it all the same.

“Aurora!”

It was Palina’s voice.

“Come back and finish your work. You’re nearly done.”

Aurora walked past the igloo obstructing her view of the sewing circle and resumed her place. Palina handed to her the needle and furs.

“Don’t get distracted.”

“I hadn’t.”

“Don’t care to hear it. Do your work.”

And with that Palina was off again, weaving a thread of sinew in a strong backstitch.

“Where did you go?” Asked Aurora.

“Bair was the one to tell me about Quinart’s passing. Though that was made in passing. I went off to find him again and learn what really happened. Instead, I saw the old man himself.”

“And how was he?”

Palina sighed.

“How else? He’s dead, little one.”

“I know that. How did it happen?”

“Again, it’s not something your little ears should hear.”

“We crossed the sea together with Sevt, I deserve to know. And he was my friend.”

“He was my friend as well. I didn’t have many back at the hamlet, could never trust anyone that dropped into a place like this. Couldn’t say why. He was kind, and a good person to talk to. A man you could rely on.”

Palina looked at the girl with her tired eyes.

“But he was no warrior, Aurora. That’s why he got branded—”

“That wasn’t his fault—!”

“And that’s why he’s dead. There was a chunk of bloodied ice at the scene, and Quin’s… voice is no more. Either somebody here did the deed, out of fear of what he might draw to the commune, or the isolation and shame finally got to him.”

“No!”

The furs fell to the ground as Aurora stood up, the needle clattering away with its thread still attached.

“He wouldn’t hurt himself!”

“Girl, you know nothing about the matter—”

“I know that if he wouldn’t hurt others then he wouldn’t hurt himself! He was a protector!”

“Yes, he was. But he was troubled, clearly. Else the spirits would have never gotten to him.”

Aurora ran away before Palina could stop her, weaving around and between the commune’s shelters.

It can’t be like this. It can’t be.

She ran out onto one of the main tracks and saw the people gathered at the end of it, where Quin’s igloo was said to be located. Every now and again, when a person moved or shifted, she saw the musher’s lifeless body on the ground.

“No!”

Aurora bolted for the site, but before long her feet were no longer touching the ground. She flailed them helplessly as a voice she didn’t recognise held her back with a strength that only a builder could have.

“Don’t trouble your mind more than it’s already troubled.”

She tried to break free but the other’s brown hands refused to let her go.

“He’s gone, girl. And your prayers won’t bring him back.”

It was Bair. She knew once Palina had caught up to her and looked at the builder with eyes that no longer spoke of tiredness. Palina took Aurora’s hand and wrapped an arm around Bair while blocking the view of Quin.

Aurora stopped struggling. Her breath quietened, her racing heart slowed.

It can’t be like this. It can’t be.

There was warmth in the embrace that Bair and Palina provided. Strangely, it gave her comfort to know that seal fur was not all that remained between them as survivors and the cold.

~~~~~

“Did nobody tell Drummond when we mean to leave?”

Jerard sighed, looking around at the others in both parties waiting for a response.

At least the mute can’t complain.

And Gar Darron was in no rush to return to the underground. And yet, the prospect of good work and an expedition was the perfect respite from the gruelling cycle of uninspiring work on the surface. Six pickaxes were in the commune’s possession from the old hamlet, a few of the many used to mine the mountainside and excavate its church. Both the sea and the ice party would be climbing; those that weren’t mining would be resting on a rotation, all per Sowne’s orders.

Given the dismay caused by the new chief’s change of plans, it’s wise to distract Eron and his men with an assignment that doesn’t require much thought.

Preventing anything undesirable. The denizens were still coming around to Sowne as a leader, and their circumstances were more dire than ever.

The huskies were howling and yapping somewhere in the camp. The loudest they had been since arriving.

“And what of Eron, Reyansh?” Jerard leaned on a pick, “Will he be joining us or is he still in dispute with the chief?”

“Eron does what he pleases, when he pleases,” said Dhruv, the other, younger, dusky man, “If he doesn’t wish to come on this expedition, out of principle, then that’s his right.”

“‘That’s his right’. So… if I was to fuck your wife – just because I wanted to – would that be my right?”

“What do you mean?”

“Not that I would. Reyansh isn’t exactly my type. Understand that if we were all to follow our ‘principles’, based on doing what we please, when we please, then there would be no commune—”

Reyansh strode over to push Jerard and his curls. Gar Darron was prepared to intervene, but both men stared each other down in silence. Jerard made to move but was pushed again.

Gar Darron separated the ensuing tussle soon after.

“Have some more integrity, the both of you. If we’re going to spend the next two weeks underground, you’ll leave your quarrels above the surface.”

Reyansh shoved Gar Darron back, “And who the fuck are you? Who are you?”

The sea party leader had a hand ready at his dirk, but the other was turning away, walking back to his place.

Gar Darron moved his hand away from the weapon.

“Let’s wait. We can do this with eight men but I suspect we’d all appreciate ten.”

“Again, who are you?” Repeated Reyansh, an iron frame of a man with a beard as dark as jet.

Gar Darron did not have an answer. He wasn’t a leader by any means, though he had assumed that unofficial position in his old party.

It takes a certain kind of man to lead, I don’t believe I’m the kind of man to balance all those responsibilities.

Footsteps. Sowne was coming towards them.

“Quin’s dead.”

“The musher?”

He was marked…

“You haven’t heard from Eron or Drum—?”

“You’re leaving now, all of you. Something’s awry. What do you mean ‘Eron’ and ‘Drummond’?”

“They haven’t shown.” Said Reyansh.

“Haven’t shown? The fuck does that mean?”

“It’s as the man says,” Gar Darron shook his head, “You haven’t seen—?”

“No, I haven’t.”

Sowne looked around, searching. The huskies continued to howl from afar.

“Is that something we should be concerned about?” Gar nodded in the direction of the noise.

Sowne returned the gesture with a pair of intense, calculating eyes.

“I wouldn’t be. You’ve enough on your mind as it is, and it needs to be clear, where you’re going.”

That it does, though I continue to dread.

Gar Darron pushed it away from his thoughts. They would be a target, if those things still lurked in the deep.

“Would Eron or Drummond have anything to do with the dogs? Is that why they’re—?”

“For the last time, Gar, I know nothing of that party’s members. You’d best hope they aren’t.”

Sowne indicated to the two dusky men.

“Now, what was the deal with these two? You looked to be in a scrimmage.”

“His men presume too much,” Dhruv spat into the snow, “There are none of our kind in their party.”

“Is that what it was?” Jerard looked amused.

“It’s a factor.”

“I’ve never had someone place a claim in my mouth.”

“We listen to Sowne,” said Holland, squinting around with a grey and craggy face, “Quarrels like these will do us no favours down there. The rest of our party cooperated just fine with Reyansh and with Dhruv, there’s no reason your party cannot, Gar Darron. If your men are yet to acclimate to an environment that’s drawn people from all four corners of the world, now’s finally the time that they do.”

“It’s not a question of colour, old man,” said Gar Darron, “I just don’t approve of people who can’t come together to finish a job. Especially not those that place something so trivial above what’s presently necessary.”

Reyansh and Dhruv glared at him. They were going to hate him all throughout this endeavour, he knew.

As long as they can climb and rock-break, we’ll get along just fine.

“If you’ve sorted out your differences,” said Sowne, “You’d best follow me. Don’t speak to anyone that you pass.”

A queer request, but they slung provisions over their backs and went after him, away from the wall. The dogs could still be heard mourning.

Before long the parties stopped by a quinzhee.

“Renoir, Sinner,” Sowne addressed the two, “You’ve both been the quietest. Get in there, see if Eron’s chosen to bail by sleeping in.”

The young man with an ugly blue splat of a birthmark on his temple and the dolorous scout with a white eye obeyed the chief, descending into the shelter. It wasn’t long before Drummond came running, halting in his tracks at the sight of the party.

“What’s the rush, long hair?” Asked Sowne.

“I’ve…,” shifty eyes glanced between each of them, “Are you searching for Eron, by chance?”

“By chance we are. You know where he is?”

“I came here to see him myself.” Drummond’s shoulders dropped, “But I can see that we’re ready to leave. Shall we be off?”

“‘Shall we be off’, perhaps we shall. Sinner!”

Sowne had shouted the name just as the scout’s blind eye came up from the quinzhee.

“He’s not here. His effects are undisturbed, too.”

So, where the fuck is he?

Sowne looked Gar Darron’s way. He looked for a long time.

“Then you’ll be leaving without him.”

Sowne looked away, scanning every man there.

“Now you listen to me. I don’t care if your mothers were brown, blue, or white, you’re all that stands between us and damnation. I handpicked you from this lot. And with men ceasing like flakes in the wind, those things in the darkness are hungrier than ever to take a piece out of what’s left of us. You’re not going to let that happen. How clear are my words?”

“Clear as the sky we’ll see once we’re out of here.” Declared Holland.

“I’d hoped so. But until that day comes you must, and should only, do all that you can, however you can, to make it happen. When we’re this close to home we don’t have the choice of faltering or backing away. How clear are my words?”

“Clear!” They all shouted in unison.

“Clear!” Reiterated Sowne, “As the eyes that God gave all of us. Eyes that were meant to see and choose. And your choice, right now, is absolute!”

They raised their picks, their axes, their fists. Gar Darron lifted Sevt’s staff, brighter than ever, casting them all in gold and red.

Sowne was their hope, Gar Darron believed. When all was said and done, they could only fight their way through. And fight for life they would.