set for march 12
iza has slept where she fell, a tangle of stunted trees with the glacier as backdrop.
in fright she wakes. the morning is dark, and still resembles the night beneath which she had slumbered.
but the stars will fade. yesterday she traveled as far as her instinct might allow.
today she will journey more dozens of miles away, putting as much distance between her and the rot-man as possible.
she calls for no one. three hours are spent picking over old caribou kills made by those more capable than her.
she finds the remains of a ptarmigan near the sole mountain and crunches its bones.
iza avoids all she sees. even the silhouette of wolves far away is a reason for her to run.
dark becomes morning, becomes afternoon, becomes evening, becomes night.
the reward for iza is the gentle rushing of the sea in her ears. hunger is fierce, but the woman stays it to gaze upon the vast darkness of that surface now traced by moonlight.
sand gives meat. salt gives fish. she rests in a nest of dune grass, snatching sleep in heavy portions. the ocean would feed iza as long as she traveled it. but the longer her trail became, the more it could be followed.
for now, however, there is only the sound of her breathing and the lap of the large salt.
in fright she wakes. the morning is dark, and still resembles the night beneath which she had slumbered.
but the stars will fade. yesterday she traveled as far as her instinct might allow.
today she will journey more dozens of miles away, putting as much distance between her and the rot-man as possible.
she calls for no one. three hours are spent picking over old caribou kills made by those more capable than her.
she finds the remains of a ptarmigan near the sole mountain and crunches its bones.
iza avoids all she sees. even the silhouette of wolves far away is a reason for her to run.
dark becomes morning, becomes afternoon, becomes evening, becomes night.
the reward for iza is the gentle rushing of the sea in her ears. hunger is fierce, but the woman stays it to gaze upon the vast darkness of that surface now traced by moonlight.
sand gives meat. salt gives fish. she rests in a nest of dune grass, snatching sleep in heavy portions. the ocean would feed iza as long as she traveled it. but the longer her trail became, the more it could be followed.
for now, however, there is only the sound of her breathing and the lap of the large salt.
« Next Oldest | Next Newest »