No One Left Behind - 438 words (prompt - family)

This story picks up where last week's story ended....

When the news reaches Shayla, she sets down her cup of spiced tea and goes straight to the cellar. The mountain passes are open. At last it’s time for family to reunite.

The bountiful summer filled her barrels with apples, pears, and nuts. She adds smoked meat and fish to the provisions and the saddle bags strain under the load. The pony whinnies as Shayla tightens the cinch of the pack saddle.

She shrugs on a heavy knapsack and leads the pony to the overgrown track that winds up the side of the mountain. A golden dog, tall and slender, trots at her side. Overhead, a small crow flies, tracking their progress.

At the end of the first day, they stop at fading light. A thin layer of snow covers the ground at this altitude and Shayla builds a small lean-to. She feeds the horse and dog, settling them under the temporary shelter. The crow struts just out of reach. When she invites it to join them, it caws and flutters away from her. It scoops up the nuts and bits of dried meat thrown its way.

At the streak of dawn, the crow walks into the shelter and pecks Shayla’s face gently and persistently. She opens her eyes and the crow flaps its wings and squawks. 

“What is it?” Shayla asks. Somewhere in the distance more crows answer in fractious alarm.  

The dog stands rigid, hackles raised, staring into a curtain of falling snow. The horse snorts and shakes its head. Shayla leaps to her feet and straps the packs on herself and the pony. As fast as they walk, their footprints are covered. All sounds are muffled by the blanketing snow.

Deep in the forest she finds shelter under a rocky overhang. Leaving the dog to guard the pony, Shayla slips back toward the trail. She shimmies up a tree for a better view. Heavily-armed troops emerge, ghostlike, out of the white storm. Some are injured. One, eyes wrapped in bandages, is led by another in a blood-stained jacket. She has no doubt if they saw her perched there they would shoot her for the simple sport of it. 

As if he senses her presence, a soldier peers up to where she sits. The crow dives at him, scolding and angry. The soldier smashes the bird with the butt of his rifle and walks on. It falls to the ground, as still as a stone.

Shayla waits for five, ten minutes before descending the tree. 

“I will heal you.” Shayla rocks the bird close to her body. “You are family. Ohana. No one gets left behind.”

Photo from Wikimedia Commons: Traces of crow in snow by Ramessos

Ringing in the New Year - word count 415 (prompt - wood)

A heavy fog crept over the woods in late July, pressing the sky down against the earth. In the valley the sun stayed hidden all summer. Over the months that followed, crops failed, people grew thin, and the wild animals lay down in the forest and died.

No one believed the corporations would go that far. First they stole the crystal-clear water that used to flow through the village, keeping the pastures green and lush. Next they levied a user-fee on the clean air that the forest breathed over the land. Villagers refused to pay it and heavily-armed corporate soldiers, once paid to protect the citizens, blocked the roads out of the valley. When the fog machines rolled into place the, town started to suffocate.

As winter solstice approaches, the faint light that breaks the tedium of the villagers’ lives grows shorter and fainter. Elza and her band of blooded friends are the last line of defence. They scrounge through their grandparents’ trunks for bright clothing. Neighbours bring the last scraps of food for the ceremony.

Hand bells are set in a ring on the table. A fire is stacked, ready for a match. One large candle, made from the scraps of many hoarded candles is positioned in the centre of the rings.

“It’s time,” Elza says, looking at her watch. Blackness surrounds them but they know the exact minute that starts the longest night of the year.

The red-haired girl to Elza’s right says, “Let us take a minute to honour the Sun and all She brings us. May she return to our skies soon.”

In the silence, hope rises. Elsa picks up the first bell and a small boy steps forward and lights the candle. His twin brother puts a match to the fire.

Each young woman opens her heart and speaks of celestial blessing, asking the Mother Sun to return to their valley. She ends with three sweet notes from her bell. When all have spoken, the young women ring the bells in unison to celebrate their connection with Nature and all life everywhere. The gathered villagers bring out their bells and ring them with new hope and optimism.

The sound reaches the passes in the hills. The music is the last thing the soldiers hear before the explosives detonate. As the solstice ceremony concludes, the fog machines shatter and the roads to the outside world open again. The next morning, the sun filters through the wood and winterberries start to grow.

Photo from Wikimedia Commons: Seattle Sugarplum Elves by Joe Mabel