DUSKLIGHT ODYSSEY

Chapter 17

The straps of Ion's pack dug into his shoulders. His right shoulder hadn't fully healed since its haphazard relocation some weeks prior, and his muscles ached. The cord with which the two élaf antlers were fastened to the back of the pack had loosened somewhat, and so the bones made a hollow clattering as he followed the strange woman through the heavy snowfall that seemed to only grow heavier. Soon it was impossible to see more than a few meters ahead, but the woman's stride never faltered; she knew exactly where she was going.

It was hours of mindless uphill trudging before the woman suddenly stopped. The sun had risen now, though its light hardly pierced the clouds overhead and seemingly all around them. Ion looked past her and squinted his eyes to see what was ahead. It was dark—darker than it should've been. Ion realized that he was looking at the side of a cliff: a sheer wall of black stone. The woman set down her spear and began to dig through the snow at the base of the cliff. Ion and Naim looked on in as much curiosity as their frozen minds could produce as she shoveled away with her mittened hands. Finally, she stood upright and gestured for them to follow. Uncovered through her efforts was a crack in the cliff, the slight entrance to a crevice that led into the mountain, just wide enough for an adult to fit through. The woman, spear in-hand, slid into the side of the cliff and disappeared from view.

Naim looked to Ion with apprehension.

"I'll go first," Ion said. He positioned himself sideways and attempted to enter through the crevice, but heard the clattering of antlers against rock as he felt his pack hit the side of the crack.

"Too wide," Naim said.

"No, too narrow," Ion replied.

"I was talking about you. The antlers have to go."

Ion's heart hurt at the suggestion, but he knew she was right. He sighed and heaved his pack to the ground before unfastening the antlers that had adorned him so magnificently. It felt as if Ion was giving up a portion of himself as he did. He pictured the lonely élaf from which he cut them, limping through the air with its injured gluteal, the world passing it by with no feeling toward its surroundings as it walked to nowhere. Ion felt kinship with it still, though he wasn't quite as lonely now. Regardless, it was time to give the antlers up. Once they were solemnly laid in the snow where they'd forever stay, Ion tried again to fit himself through the crack, and just barely slid past.

The crack opened up into a small chamber. Ion could barely make out the visage of the woman and her piercing eyes standing in front of him. Ion readjusted the straps of his pack and looked the other way. Meeting her gaze was uncomfortable. Naim slid through the crack soon after Ion, her white hair reflecting the slivers of light let in through the opening. It wasn't clear where they were meant to go next—was this their final destination? The dark, cramped cave?

The woman went to the far end of the narrow shelter and got down on her belly. Soon she disappeared again through another small opening close to the ground that led downwards.

Ion dropped to his hands and knees and peered after her. He saw her legs moving back and forth as she expertly clawed her way through. She'd clearly done it a thousand times before. It was more than wide enough to fit Ion horizontally, but top to bottom the opening was only about the length of Ion's forearm. He looked back to Naim. "Too narrow," Ion said again.

Naim nodded and gestured to Ion. "Too thick."

Ion realized what he would have to do. The pack had to go the way of the antlers. It had been his loyal companion for nigh a decade: a pack of thick, grey canvas with sturdy leather straps and as many side pockets as one could ever want. It had served him well. I can always come back for it, he thought. But deep down, he knew he'd never see it again. Ion had already discarded most of its contents to make room for Vio. All that remained was the waterskin, the knife, and the egg. How do we make this work?