Into the Maelstrom Chapter 2, page 13 0 comments

Sunday, April 3rd 2005, by Marissa A Spencer (C) 2004-205 Marissa A Spencer pic from www.hedgehogs.org/ hedge.html He stands up and turns to her and looks up at the sky. “Sorry to be rescued and run, but I have serious things to do. I won’t be worried about you, I think you can take care of yourself!” He leaps up the trail and is gone, leaving Moira to wonder. Who he is and what is so important. The light is fading and the canyon starts to look less appealing. She too climbs up the trail and finds herself on the other side of the canyon than the side she went down. Rolling hills stretch before her and she stands there with a feeling of overwhelming hopelessness. She walks slowly toward the setting sun. The hills were easy and she soon finds herself in a grove of beautiful aspen-like trees. Airy and slender, they wave in the slight breeze. She finds a few large boulders to sit near and decides to make camp there. A small stream was flowing at the base of the hill. Spreading her meager blankets, she sits to watch the last rays of the sun. Her mind settles on her loneliness and she thinks about her friends. She soon drifts off to sleep. She dreams of her secret thoughts and buried memories. The skies were an impossible blue with cottony clouds floating softly by. All the countryside was so green and alive. His face reappears in her memory. He emanates a light of his own and his presence is so warm and safe. So many days he would sit on the hillside near the cottage and just watch about him. He guards her with all his being, yet he is as remote as a star in the heavens. He hardly speaks a word to me. Just would gaze at me unwaveringly with those water sprite eyes. Looking down from his guard post on the hill, I could feel his mantle of care upon me. "Be safe, Moira...be safe". Almost the entire speech from him she has ever heard. How could such a man...inspire her so, obsess her so completely? Lithe as a willow with eyes as clear as the water from a winter spring. He sits, so aloof. I have now discovered how much I miss those eyes. I am alone. She weeps softly in her sleep. ****************** Her dreams are fitful and the night sounds are unfamiliar to her. The first rays of the morning light touch her face and she is instantly awake. The air is fresh and she stretches to get the stiffness of yesterday’s adventures out of her muscles. She had better replenish her water again and start trying to find some way home. She notices as she rolls her bedding up that there are odd prints in the soft earth where she lay. They are small and half scuffled by something that scraped them. She uneasily looks around her and worries that she is very vulnerable while she sleeps if she never woke when these creatures obviously crowded about her. Grabbing a staff she gathered from the canyon, she heads for where the small stream was flowing away from the canyon. “Follow the water”, she mutters to herself. She knows the basics of survival. The day is bright and growing ever warmer. Vegetation starts becoming denser. This is a relief since the desert is not her favorite clime. The boulders get larger and the shrubbery provides a nice cover for her to travel unseen. A small hidden clearing is tempting enough to call for a small rest and a drink. The small red berries growing on a bush are also tempting. Her food supplies are strictly rationed and she forages whenever possible. She reaches to the berries and takes one gingerly. Saying a small prayer, she pops one in her mouth. It is incredibly astringent yet palatable. She eats as many as she can amid tearing eyes and puckered lips. Following that with a piece of dry bread was a relief. The declining sun feels good and she reclines against the biggest boulder. Her eyes close and she is almost asleep when suddenly a horrendous squealing and grunting din awaken her. Instantly, she is on her feet with knife in hand, her eyes wide and startled. It is almost dusk. Peeking slowly around the boulder she sees an incredible dust cloud raising on the trail before her. A few moments later, a small figure is walking a distance behind the cloud. He is half her height and seemingly completely covered in gray fur. Looking again she sees, he is merely wearing an outfit of fur. He turns to look behind him and his face is wizened and ancient. His eyes are bulbous and a bright grass green. The nose jutting from his face is the largest Moira has ever seen. He is so comical Moira cannot stifle a giggle. “Eh? Wots that? Eh? Who there? Come for my ‘erd ‘ave you? You better coom out now!” The little man had raised his staff like a weapon and squinted into the shrubbery where the giggle had come from. Moira steps out and stands on the trail still giggling. He looks at her and steps menacingly toward her. She holds here knife up ready and tries to look menacing back. He laughs at what he sees as a boy. “Now, now no need. No need for that laddie. You are just a boy after all. Ole’ Grimnose will not hurt you. I thought you was after me ‘erd.” Moira could hear the grunting in the distance toward the water. “What kind of herd sir?” she asked. “Well, laddie, I ‘ave the greatest ‘erd in the land. Fairest creatures a herder could ‘ope for. Mild tempered, good eatin’ and great for fur too! You cannot beat them for companionship…but I ‘ave to tell you. It is no small task to keep them safe. The wild dogs like ‘em for snacks they do, not to mention the huge flying things ‘round about.” He looks uneasily to the blue sky. The little man led the way to the herd and she could see a gray and blackish hodgepodge of moving animals. It was hard to tell one from another. They clustered around the small pool in the stream. The grunting and squealing was deafening. She studied her companion; his fur cloak seemed awfully spiky and coarse. He put his fingers up to his mouth and emitted a piercing whistle. The herd as one stopped grunting and turned to face them. Moira starts laughing hysterically when she finally gets a good look at them. “Oh my stars!! They are hedgehogs!” She can barely stand for the fit of laughter that betakes her. Grimnose looks at her with a sour expression on his face. “And what is wrong wi’ edge- ogs? Ever ‘ave edge-og stew? How about edge-og pasties? What about edge-og tatties? Not to mention their fur. Look! ‘Ave you ever seen such a cloak? It is wind resistant, water proof and easy to clean.” He models his cloak and holds it out like a woman showing off her new cape. He waddles as he does so, which makes it even more comical. Moira is in tears by now. Paroxysms of laughter wrack her small form leaving her limp and in a heap on the ground. “You must have…hundreds of them! Oh my goodness, no one will ever believe me!” “They lay eggs ya know.” Grimnose sits back and smiles. “Hahahahaha! They do NOT lay eggs!” You are thinking of the Echidna.” She smirks at him. “I kid you not! These wee creatures lay eggs and they can climb trees as well!” He glares at her and humphs. “No! I do not believe you old man. Climb trees indeed. Impossible!” Her giggling is starting to annoy the wizened old man. The old man brings his fingers to his mouth once more and whistles a strange tune. The hedgehogs together as one run headlong to the nearest approximation of a tree that hangs over the pond. In moments, the tree is swaying and bobbing from the weight of many hedgehogs. They cling to every branch, limb and cluster of nuts that are there. Before long, there is an incredible cracking sound and the tree splits and dumps the entire herd into the pond. A great thrashing and splashing churns the once still water. Moira stands up concerned and rushes to the edge of the pond. Suddenly a mass of wet, dripping hedgehogs run scurrying past her knocking her over into the mud. Her hands are covered in black goo. She looks up disgusted at the little man. “They can swim too,” he chuckles.

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