JOURNEY TO THE MIDNIGHT SUN
James Sheldon
LOVE CONQUERS ALL
Book 1 of 3
Chapter 29
Four days after crossing the crag and the business of bushwhacking in unrelenting cold had taken a heavy toll on the family. Not quite as dense as before, the wood remained difficult to get through. Snow fell off and on, sometimes heavy, sometimes light. No blizzard struck but the afternoon wind could be strong and although the thickness of the wood blocked it, it could howl like the ghost of the north and send snow-bombs falling down through branches. Not once had the sun shown itself. Even at midday the wood lay in the grip of shadow. And in the starless pitch of night, when on occasion there came a scream so blood-curdling as to startle even the bravest heart, who could blame our travelers for wondering if perhaps some dark power held dominion in that place? After all, those few that knew the full story of the disaster at the river crossing also knew that, all those years ago, there had been dissension among the elders of the different families within the clan. Discord had resulted in a failure to put first things first. The clan should not have struck camp where they did. And among those that survived, some told of screams from the wood just before disaster struck.
Noah and Sophie passed out bowls while Laureal followed behind, doling out rations of hot cereal. The family waited for the children to take their seats. Laureal put snow in an empty pot, set it over the coals, and took her seat.
“Son, would you like to say our prayer this morning?”
“I will if you want Mom. But I’m not sure what to say.”
“Just give thanks, Cody. Speak what comes to your heart.”
All bowed their heads—
“Dear Maker of all things,” Cody began, “thank you for bringing us this far. Thank you for this food. And if you could see a way for us, I pray that today we break out into sunlit meadows with lots of deer, moose, and elk.”
Cody could scarcely have said a more fitting prayer. For they had run out of meat and the absence of large game tracks confirmed the obvious; the wood harbored no grazing animals. Even rabbits had become scarce in its depths. The dogs had not eaten in three days. And Ellie had become a source of grave concern.
John looked around the fire. Tired and huddled in that unforgiving cold, with no stomach for conversation, all understood they had gotten in deep. Emma in particular concerned him. The old Matriarch’s determination had masked the depth of her exhaustion up until then but no longer. “If we do not find the lake today,” said he, standing up from the fire, “we will have to do something.”
“Do what?” Mia asked, her lips and face, like the others, chapped from the cold.”
“We’ll cross that bridge when we get there,” looking at the dogs.
“Let’s see what this day brings,” Jessie uttered. “It may be but a mile more to go for good hunting and fishing.”
“We’ve been saying that for days, and every day ends the same.”
Jessie took up the pot and began cleaning it out with a brush which was nothing more than a cluster of pine needles.
“Let me do that,” said Emma.
“I got it, Mom.”
“I’m not going to sit here like a bump on a log.”
“You are not a bump on a log, but you are going to sit there and stay there.”
Jessie was not being cruel and Emma, too worn out to argue with her daughter’s good intentions, gathered the twins close to her side before the fire while the packsaddle and sled were secured and loaded. Thus began day eight of the bushwhack.
A downy woodpecker, all but concealed in its hole, looked on as the family passed below. Cody caught its movement with his sharp eyes. It was turning its head to look out the hole with one eye, then the other eye as if to verify what it saw. No doubt it had taken refuge there after hearing the oncoming sounds of hatchets chopping, branches cracking, twigs snapping, and snow crushing under the giant’s hooves.
Worried for her mother, Jessie glanced back repeatedly.
“Don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere.”
“We can stop and rest anytime you like, Mother.”
“It’s not even mid-morning,” trudging painfully slow.
Having listened to every word, Sophie protested, “Emmy’s not well, and horsey shouldn’t have to carry us!”
“Don’t you worry about me,” Emma rebuffed, “I’m fine!”
“Sophie,” Mia began with a warning tone.
“What?”
“Don’t fuss.” Even as she spoke, Mia concealed her face within her hood, that no one might see her own distress, for having witnessed the decline of the giant, she had come to understand that its fate and the fate of her children were intertwined.
Ellie, queen of horses with her smooth and rhythmic gait, had been reduced to slow labored steps. Her head, once held high, now low with starvation, her half-empty eyes to the ground. Yike and Nemo, also starving, walked the path just in front of Emma, struggling to carry their packs like the loyal troopers they were.
Jessie and Mia tiredly wrestled the sled to keep it upright over uneven terrain while, at the front of the tiny column, John and Laureal broke trail in deep snow and heavy foliage.
Trying to get through a particularly tight spot with fallen limbs hidden like stumbling blocks under a blanket of snow, Laureal tripped, lost her balance and made a grab at one of many branches crowding in on her. The branch saved her from falling even as it ripped loose from her hand and, whipping through the icy air, caught John in the eye.
“Damn it!” dropping his ax, stooping, lifting his mitts to his face.
“John, are you okay!”
“Don’t crowd me!”
“John— please.”
He gave no reply except to hold his mitt out to keep her away.
“John.”
“I’m all right.” And pulling his mitt away from his eye, “Watch what you’re doing!”
“May I please look at your eye?”
“I said I’m all right!”
“John,” pleadingly!”
Summerfield picked up his ax and, with his free mitt, motioned for her to get back to work.
Laureal returned to knocking snow, chopping branches, clearing branches and hoping against hope that the next turn or gentle rise would reveal what they sought, for it was no longer just a lake they sought but their mortal salvation. Weeping quietly, she had progressed no further than fifteen paces when John’s hand came onto her shoulder from behind.
“I’m sorry…can you forgive me?”
She turned round and he drew her into his arms, “It’s these woods,” he murmured, “they just go on and on.”
Several paces back, Cody came into view, “Is everything alright up there?”
“Yes. We’re just trying to get reoriented.”
With all the family struggling before her, Emma second-guessed her decision to lead them afield. Failure no longer meant they could simply say they gave it their best and go home. All were aware of it. They were in too deep to turn back. It played upon her mind like a grim reaper with scythe in hand, walking the trail behind, patiently waiting for the first of them to fall. Such was her distraction when, taken off guard, she stumbled over a dead branch lying beneath the trodden snow.
“Mother!” Jessie exclaimed, rushing back to where Emma had fallen.
“It was only a stick,” said Emma as Jessie helped her up.
“We can rest here for a while.”
“Perhaps that would be good,” tiredly brushing snow from her coat, coming eye to eye with her daughter while an involuntary shiver ran her through like the blade of a scythe.
Jessie called for Laureal and, hearing the anxiety in her mother’s voice, Laureal rushed back with John on her heels.
“Grandma! Are you okay?”
“Yes dear,” not fooling anyone but, doing her best to feign a confident smile, “I’m only a little tired, that’s all.” And handing the rifle to John, “I’m sorry. I got snow in your gun.”
Looking about, Jessie issued orders, “Laureal, build a fire. Build it right there in front of those two trees.” Then turning to her son-in-law, “John, build a lean-to there,” pointing to the same two trees, “build it so that the fire will radiate heat into it.” Speaking next to her son, “Cody, gather firewood, lots of it.” And finally looking to her cousin, “Mia and I will cut boughs and set up the tent.”
“So much fuss for one old woman,” Emma protested as Jessie took a caribou blanket and laid it on the back of the sled for her to sit on. The blanket’s purpose was simple; prevent Emma from losing her precious body heat to frozen surfaces. And so it was that the change John spoke of came earlier than expected. Everyone refocused their energy and the family soon had a small but sturdy lean-to built. A blazing fire radiated its heat into the natural structure where Emma lay resting on a bed of pine boughs covered in caribou hides.
Cody returned with another armload of firewood and seeing a ruffed grouse lying atop it, Jessie broke into a smile, “Where’d you get that?”
“It flushed as I was chopping limbs off a dead fall. I followed it and was able to get close enough for a shot.” And setting the firewood down, he handed the bird to his mother, his tired eyes still yet the liveliest of the group, “It’s a godsend Mom, just when we needed it, for Grandma.”
“Yes it is Cody, and so are you.”
The bird’s precious meat, less than a pound altogether, was added to a handful of wild rice and herbs simmering in a pot beside the fire. Separately in a tiny pot, Jessie made broth of the bones, and because the bones of ruffed grouse taste bad for some inexplicable reason, she steeped the broth with pine needles to mask the unpleasant flavor. In a third pot, Jessie melted snow and steeped fresh picked leaves from a small evergreen plant abundant in those woods. Thus she made what had once been called Hudson Bay Tea.
Laureal returned from foraging with a bag containing soft strips of inner bark from birch and pine trees. Jessie gave a few of the raw strips to Emma to chew, as they were rich in vitamin C. The remaining strips were laid out on heated rocks to make roasted chips, to be pounded into powder as a substitute for bread flour.
“Laureal, where’d Cody go?”
“He went to help John.”
“What are they doing?”
“Stripping bark to feed Ellie. John said they would go hunting for grouse and squirrels as soon as they were done.” And lowering her voice so that the children would not hear, “He said that, if we are to live, it is important to keep Ellie alive.”
Nodding in silent affirmation, Jessie turned to Emma, “Mother.”
“Yes.”
“Can you sit up?”
Emma opened her eyes, “Of course I can.”
“Then sit up, please, and eat this. It will give you strength.”
Sitting up and accepting the pot, Emma thanked Jessie before turning to Laureal, “Dear, would you please go and get John.”
Yike and Nemo, tethered on the edge of camp, begged and wined so pathetically, Jessie had to order them to be quiet. For there was nothing to be done for them, and thus their cries served only to increase the family’s distress.
Emma looked to Noah and Sophie, both huddled near the fire, both stoic, clearly frightened and, at the same time, knowing not to complain or cry. Grateful that they were still in good health, the Matriarch gestured with the steaming pot, “Would you kiddos like some stew?”
Noah had only begun to extend his hand when Sophie pushed it away, “No thank you, Emmy. We will eat soon enough.”
“Aren’t you hungry?” looking surprised.
Pavlov’s dog had nothing on Noah except that Sophie sat closest to Emma and therefore he dared not beg on account of her glare.
Turning to Jessie, Emma attempted to hand the pot back, “I’ll drink the broth, but I cannot eat while my family goes hungry.”
“Mother,” pushing the pot back, “you have caught a chill, you cannot travel and that means none of us can. So stop arguing and eat before it gets cold.” Then softening, “There will be enough for all. We have rice and wheat flour in our stores, and we have all afternoon to find our dinner.”
Jessie had spoken a half-truth and both women knew it. They had run dangerously low on wild rice and wheat flour. Worse yet, they understood that in that extreme environment they could eat low fat food like squirrel, grouse, and rice three times a day and still starve to death. They did not need to understand the science behind the calorie requirements of the human body to know the effects.
Meanwhile, John and Laureal traded places so that she might shave outer bark from a birch tree he’d selected. Cody would follow her to shave the inner bark.
“At least she’s eating it,” said Cody, speaking of the soft inner bark.
John had tied Ellie there for fear she would wander far away in search of food. Presently, the giant ate handfuls of bark as well as nibbling twigs, tiredly digging for leaves, moss, lichens, anything she could reach.
“Did Emma say what she wanted?” asked John.
“No,” shaking her head, watching as he ran his hand over Ellie’s gaunt frame. Laureal had seen John heartsick before, like after one of their arguments. Now he was heartsick for Ellie, as her dire condition very nearly seemed to have crept up on them. A lot of things seemed to have crept up on them.
“We shouldn’t feed her too much bark all at once,” turning to Laureal, “it could make her sick.”
“John.”
“Yes.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“I’m sorry too,” taking her shoulders in his hands. “I promise you, we will make it through this.”
John started towards camp only to have Laureal ask after him, “John?”
“Yes,” turning back.
“I just wondered, have you seen Weya today?”
“No. Have you?”
“No. And that makes three days.”
“She may have gone her own way.”
“Well,” looking resigned, “perhaps it’s for the best.”
Back at camp, Emma asked John to sit by the fire. It was just about noon.
“Mom,” Jessie began, “don’t wear yourself out.” And turning to John, “She needs to rest.”
“I’ll rest, dear…in a moment.” And turning her eyes to the Seeker, “John, as you may recall from the charts we made, there’s a stream that parallels our course to the south. And as I have said before, it is not a viable route even though it eventually leads to the lake.”
Listening as Emma spoke, John already understood they were supposedly on the most direct route to the lake. He also understood that their mapmaking had not been a precise science by any means. Emma measured distance in time, whereas John measured distance in miles. Therefore, John had converted time to miles back when he drew his charts. Back then, to determine where to locate places on his charts, John would point due north, and Emma would then point in the direction of said place in relation to due north from their home and she would estimate the number of days and hours required to reach said location. From that information, John converted time to miles to make his charts and, as he did, Emma reviewed them to determine if they resembled what she would expect to see if viewed from the eye of a high soaring eagle.
With a sip of her broth, the Matriarch continued, “With regards to that stream, on its approach to the lake it flows into a bog. It does not disappear in the bog but winds through it. The bog is long, wide, and grassy. Large animals, particularly elk and moose know it as a place to dig grass in winter. When you reach it, you will look down on it the same as you would look down on a small floodplain from a low wooded hill. From a hunter’s perspective you will be concealed with an excellent view. However, the wind will almost certainly be from the north, so you will need to cross to the wooded hills rising from the opposite side of the bog. Then you will have all the advantages. John, I feel certain we are near the lake, and because the stream parallels us, I am sure that if you were to strike out in that direction,” lifting her hand to point south, “you would find the stream and bog in less than a day’s travel. And with your rifle, you should be able to get us something large to eat. And also, in the process of doing so, you can verify our location in relation to the lake.”
“I will go immediately.”
“Eat this first,” handing him the pot of grouse and rice, of which she had eaten a third. “It’s not much but it will help sustain your strength. Take your tent, but do not travel farther than a day from us. I hope to be better in the morning, at which time we can set out following your tracks. Therefore, choose your steps through the forest in a way that we may follow with Ellie and the sled. Once we join you in the bog, Ellie will have grass to eat and, hopefully, with the bounty of a successful hunt, we will regain our strength.”
Emma set her empty cup on the ground and laid back. Then with eyes closed, “Jessie, would you please continue for me.”
Covering her mother with caribou blankets, Jessie called a camp meeting—
“John is going hunting. We will follow in his tracks when mother is able. Cody, for the rest of today you will hunt grouse, squirrel, whatever you can get without venturing too great a distance from camp. Laureal, you will set snares and look for nut caches. Mia, you and the twins will help me forage food for Ellie and gather firewood. We will stay around camp and the dogs will stay with mother.”
John took a box from his packsaddle which, as we already know, contained chest-like boxes that doubled as backpacks. One particular box was always ready for emergencies, containing his tent and other essentials. Hoisting the box-pack on his back, John checked his compass before setting out. Laureal, having equipped herself with string for snares, went along to see John off on his errand.
“Please be careful,” following close in a wood too crowded for walking side-by-side.
“I will. You too.”
“Please turn back if it looks like the snow will cover your tracks.”
Stopping, he turned to her, a smile in his tired eyes, “Don’t you worry. Everything will be fine.”
“I love you.”
“I love you too,” kissing her lips. “Take care of your grandmother.”
“Will do.”
Turning away, John spoke over his shoulder, “I’ll bring you a steak.”
