Finding new life, Slasher Annie picked up an oar and began to row with all her strength. Yet, no matter how strongly she rowed, she was not able to close the distance. And the more she tried to reach the beach, the more she observed what was on it. Skull Buzzards! Dozens of the large evil-looking birds were perched on the sandy bank or circling overhead. Some were picking over the bones of a carcass. One Skull Buzzard caught her attention in particular. He was strutting around, sporting a battered red tricorne hat on his head!
Feeling a growing sense of inevitable doom, Slasher Annie stopped rowing. Sitting listlessly, she once again let the current carry her as it would. An increasingly loud SHHLUUURRSH pulled her attention to a monstrous whirlpool that was slowly, inevitably drawing her towards it. She did not resist. Sitting motionless, her mouth open, tongue hanging out, drool dripped down the front of her coarse cotton coat. Her closed eyes no longer watched as the yawning whirlpool pulled her vessel toward its depths. Slasher Annie had lost consciousness—her brain shut down by terror—long before the craft was smashed to a zillion pieces as it was sucked into the vortex. Pulling the entire river underground, the whirlpool let nothing escape, except for luckless creatures that were picked out of the water by Skull Buzzards before they reached the eye of the whirlpool. After that, not even a Skull Buzzard was strong enough to pull something out of the current. Not even mist escaped into the sky from where the river plunged deep underground. Where it came out again, no one knew.
Eating Grubs and Beetles
The brilliant morning sun was insistent, stirring Helga from her sleep. She winced immediately—pain shot through every inch of her body. Her shoulders, legs and back felt like burning coals were buried in them. Slowly, she tested her movement. Pain and more pain. She could not move her legs, and one of her arms seemed useless.
Remembering what had occurred, she looked around to see if her attackers were still present. No one could be seen. She remembered vaguely that she had seen them going over the side of the cliff during a brief fit of wakefulness.
“Papa!” she thought solemnly. Then her sense of practical courage went to work. “Well, I’m no good to Papa now. If the All allows, the Ancient Ones will assist him. I’ve got to see to my wounds.” Helga realized that there was nothing she could do for her father now. She must place her focus on protecting and healing herself.
Unable to stand on her mangled legs, and weak from her wounds, Helga dragged herself toward some nearby bushes. The ground was damp around them and inching a little further, Helga found a trickle of water. Somewhat further on, she also found some Raven berries. Filling one of her pockets with the fruit and soaking a piece of torn cloth in water, she struggled back to her pack.
She greedily stuffed the fruits in her mouth and soon her mouth was stained with purple juice. Using the piece of water-soaked cloth, Helga cleaned her wounds as best she could. Using some of the birdwood leaves that she always carried rolled up in her leggings for emergencies, she packed leaves and mud on the worst of her injuries. Birdwood poultice was known for its healing properties. The soothing effect strengthened Helga to drag her belongings over into a shady spot.
By the time she had done these things, Helga was exhausted. Terribly weak and with only one of her arms and legs working, every activity drained her energy. Finding a few pieces of rock crackers in her pocket, Helga lay down, sucking on the rock crackers while she rested. “Well, I’ll just rest a while until the heat of the day passes. Then we’ll see.” Pulling her wide-brimmed hat over her eyes, she slipped into a peaceful doze.
Later, able to sleep only fitfully, Helga considered the situation. She did not know exactly where she was. Somewhere in the Don’ot Stumb Mountains, she knew. From the higher vantage point she now had at the top of the cliff, she could see that the mountains went on and on. Somewhere, though, she knew the mountains ended to the east. With her mobility so limited, she could not see as much as she wished, but she knew her hope lay in the direction of the rising sun. “We began this journey with our faces set toward the new day,” Helga thought grimly, “and we will not leave that hope behind. I think not of the past, but of the future. No matter what may have happened to Papa, I cannot live in the past and in fear. I will live in hope and for the future. This was our pledge when we left the Hedgelands, and I will not turn from our decision.” Helga felt that, even if she were not to see her father again, this was the choice he would also make in such circumstances.