Thread: The Mere Tide
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Old 11-04-2016, 08:50 PM
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bluewpc (Offline)
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Lot of short posts starting off but that's ok.




She drank till dark fell and purchased four bottles of whiskey and stole a raft. Near completely regardant in her figuring of the rudder. The current took her down the southern branch of the river and she sat on the deck wit the tiller under arm watching the mountains with their clear epochal divisions so old they might have known a time when the sun still had pity to weep and recalling talk once of the recycling of wondered perhaps she herself an iteration that might remember such a thing. The water was jade green. Two falcons rose from out trees of scots pine and began to circle in perfect stasis.

Ye es wrongs all over, she muttered.

When she had floated a good few hours from the bar she moored the rafts to the trunk of a tree fallen in the river and shaved it of its branches for to make a gunwale and then pushed off again. She had found a map in the cabin and she sat drinking and tracing the course of the Ural rivers.

At the Saryshta she turned south and floated a league ere the raft scraped the river bottom how shallow it was, and obliged her to get out and pull. It was evening before she reached the rivers end and she consulted the map and stared into the bleak pine woods through which she must trudge in ropes to the Atolyam dragging the raft behind. It was only a mile but it took the night and she slept on the cold stones of the bank like a dead man. Afternoon the next day she was on the Zigaza floating through the village of the same name and she hid in the cabin from the few folk watching out of the scattering of huts.

The river did not last two days. She had been sleeping on the deck and woke for no reason she knew and when she looked the trees were not moving. She peeked over the gunwale and frowned at the narrow cleft in the earth the river trinkled on into. The map indicated other rivers none too far to walk to but she scuttled the craft and gorged herself on the provisions she could not carry and bearing on shoulder what she could went on.

Went on through thirty miles of birch and through meadows of tulip or fescue and abandoned derevni rotted the same bleached brown as the rotted timothy in the pastures. She found bones of kine and of men and she watched eagles fly of their eyries.

One evening she saw fire in the hills like some part of day snagged in its withdraw. She trudged through the feather until there delineated a silhouette in profile warming itself. She took a sitting stance conducive to marksmanship and aligned the front sight post against this camper and fired.

When she walked up his forehead was pressed to the coals as if he were communing with the flame that had balded him and his brains were bubbling and the steam sang from his ears. The beet soup he had been heating had spilled and she ladled it up with the dirt much as a thickener and when she was full she studied the country that was a cup for dark ere abruptly turning to stomp out the fire until it was dead whereupon she froze enhorrored. She dropped to her knees to speak up the fire as she had seen it done but the embers were deaf to her and she filled her palms with the ash and whispered but no flame rose and in her desperation she plucked up the embers and ate them.
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