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Wals sat up as he took the water and bits of honey cake from her. For the first time he looked up and he swayed violently in his seat as he did so, leaning over, clutching his head, then letting go and grabbing the edge of the boat. Manueline leaned forward to steady him but realized as she did so that she felt dizzy as well.
She sat back, looking around her, wondering what was happening to them; remembering that they were out on the river in a small boat. She looked up and realized why Wals had behaved as he did as she reeled in her seat, like Wals she clutched at the side of the boat when she saw the world slowly spinning around them. Manueline looked frantically round trying to find a landmark or something that would give her a sense of where the river had taken them.
She had no idea where they were, which was the village side of the river and which side the forest was on. She wasn't even sure which way the river was going as she could only make out the banks on either side by the greater darkness of the shore against the shimmer of the water in the faint light given by the stars. She looked up, almost falling off the seat as she did so, trying to find the moon, thinking it would give her an idea of where they were and what direction they were going in.
Looking out into the dark she realized that cloud or mist had risen out of the night and the moon was gone and with it much of the starlight that had shown the boats on the mud bank and given a sense of the size and texture of the river. Now there was nothing but black water around them as though the river had already swallowed them and would never let them see the light of day again.
The water was cold. Manueline was shivering and afraid of what the cold must be doing to Wals. She knew the temperature of the water carried a further threat. The reason it was so cold and the reason the level of the river was dropping was that the country to the north and west of them where the river came from was even colder and the river there was beginning to freeze. The banks would be frozen and chunks of ice would come down the river, some of them easily big enough to sink a small boat like theirs.
She knew that if the boat sank, they would both be dead in a matter of a few heartbeats; that Wals would simply sink and die; she would be no help to him. Their only hope lay in reaching the bank. She would have to stop the boat from spinning and row away from the greater darkness of one bank and towards the greater darkness of the other side and hope that she could reach somewhere before disaster overtook them, before Wals was overwhelmed by the cold.
Sitting still as he was, he didn't stand a chance. The only way he could get warm was by moving about. If that meant walking him through the village it was simply what she would have to do. Manueline turned and took up the oars again, digging them into the water and pulling first one side then the other, trying to counteract the thing in the water that drove them in circles.
To begin with, she only made matters worse, making their movements even more erratic. Manueline would not give up. Though she was exhausted and disoriented, so confused it almost made her sick, she kept pulling on the oars, trying to keep a fixed point on one bank. She pulled and struggled with the water, at times crying out, a wordless expression of fear and frustration.
Only once did she dare to look over her shoulder to see after Wals. He was still slumped in his seat, apparently staring into the blackness of the bottom of the boat. She couldn't tell if he was any worse or not and did not dare to look for long. Even so when she turned to look back over the stern of the boat she found she was completely confused, not knowing which bank was the bank she had been trying to row away from and which she had been trying to row towards. She cried out again, confronted once more with her own helplessness. Still she would not give up and she rowed, pulling at the water, trying to stabilize the boat and get it going in one direction.
Manueline forgot about everything for a time except her struggle with the boat and the water. Her arms and back were aching and she could feel the rough wood of the oars tearing at the skin of her hands. She did not forget about Wals or something in her would not let go of him and she kept saying, "No, you cannot have him, I will not let him go."
Suddenly, everything changed though for a long time she did not respond to or recognize the change, her body continued the struggle even when there was nothing in the water left for her to struggle with; she only stopped when the boat stopped, sticking against something under the surface of the water.
She stopped rowing, still looking back at the far bank. Something in her remembered that she had to keep looking at the bank or she would run the risk of losing her way again and finding herself rowing back the way they had come. She dreaded that possibility, seeing an endless journey for them, stuck in the middle of the river, never getting to one side or the other. She sat staring and only slowly came round, looking round to find Wals still staring at the bottom of the boat just as she last remembered seeing him in the midst of her struggle with the river and the dark.
As she looked at him, she realized it was no longer dark, at least not the deep, black dark of the middle of the night. The coming edge of the day was casting a light on his face, barely perceptible but a change all the same. Manueline looked up, looking up the river, expecting to see the beginnings of the dawn, up the river to the east, as she was accustomed to see it, standing on the bank where the village looked out over the water.
Upriver it was pitch dark. The light was coming from behind Wals as he sat in the boat. The near bank of the river was close, within an easy stone's throw of where she sat. The light of the early morning was coming from that direction, directly behind him, rising as though the sun had shifted right into the south to rise up over the river. The sun was coming to the village over the river instead of rising down river; it was as though the sun was coming up over the village to drop over the horizon in the north, over the desert where the river never ran.
For a moment, Manueline was completely confused, then she realized that the river had turned north. They had come downstream from the village and swept round the bend in the river that she knew turned north some distance below where the village lay. She realized they must have been swept right across the river as it carried them around the corner.
Looking over the side, she saw they were stuck on a mud bank. This one low and just covered by the water. She looked at Wals wondering how much he could do but immediately recognized he could do nothing. She was still tied to the boat by the mooring line. She untied the line and took off the single cloth garment that covered her, knowing it would mean a lot to keep it dry.
She retied the mooring line about her waist and climbed out into the freezing water, realizing the boat would probably float without her weight in it, relying on the line to keep them together. The water was deathly cold. She gasped as it came up well above her knees. As she thought, the boat floated; She turned and started pulling it towards the shore, her feet sinking into the mud, not far enough to stop her, but far enough to make the going very hard.
She was soon exhausted from the effort of moving herself and pulling the boat but again she would not give up. The closeness of the shore gave her hope and strength. She drew strength from the knowledge that she now had the river between her and the village and they would not see her and Wals even if it became full day. She tugged and pulled hardly noticing when the boat touched the bottom again and she started dragging it over the mud.
She only stopped when the water was just ankle deep and her feet were sinking too far into the mud for her to get the purchase necessary to pull the boat any further. Almost reluctantly, she gave up on the effort and turned back to the task of getting Wals out of the boat and moving again.
"I don't know that I can do this. I know, I've come so far, how could I think of abandoning it now?" She stood, the line still tied about her waist, looking at Wals in the boat. The dull ache of her feet in the freezing water made her move.
She untied the line. She leaned on the bow of the boat pulling her feet out of the mud and made her way round the side until she could reach the cloth garment, which she carefully doubled over and wrapped about herself so it came just part way up her thighs and well clear of the water.
She pulled at Wals, suddenly urgent to see him move as she became increasingly aware of the ache in her feet and ankles. "Wals come you must stand. You can't stay her." She didn't think he had enough of the language to be able to understand her even if he could hear her but it made no difference. She urged him and pushed and pulled at him until he looked up.
To get away from the freezing water as much as anything else she climbed back into the boat and urged him again to get up, pulling him to his feet and pushing him towards the side of the boat. She took the blanket from him wrapping it round herself as she was afraid he would drop it in the water. He stood naked and dirty, hunched over and fragile in the coming light of the day.
Once he almost tipped over the side and the boat rocked wildly as she struggled to keep them both upright and stop him from falling out onto the mud flat. Manueline climbed out of the boat again and literally lifted one of his legs, pulling it up, forcing him to fall over onto her so she practically carried him out of the boat and onto the mud. Supporting him as best she could, she staggered with him over the remaining stretch of mud to the shore.
Manueline wrapped the blanket round him again and stood for a moment, considering telling him to keep moving but realized she would have difficulty explaining it to him even if he could take in what she was saying. She just turned and faced the freezing water again though it surprised her. The water almost seemed warm when it covered her feet and she moved quickly back out to the boat, free of the burden of moving Wals. She retrieved the sack of food, which also contained flints for making a fire.
With no one in it, the boat was practically afloat so she pushed it out a little way until it was floating. Then she pushed as hard as she could, hoping the current would take it and sweep it at least some distance away, making it that much harder for the people from the village to find their trail and follow them. She stood a moment watching the boat and then turned back to Wals and the riverbank, suddenly desperate to get him moving and get him somewhere she could start a fire and give him warmth and food.
Wals still stood where she left him. She walked up to him, out of the water, up onto the bank where he stood saying, "Come we must go." There was no sign of any response; he just stood there swaying on his feet. Manueline spoke again, a note of rising frustration and anxiety in her voice. It made no difference at all; he just stood there, bent over, apparently barely able to support his own weight. Manueline gave up any effort to communicate with him. She went up to him, wrapped the blanket round him, took him by the arm and dragged him up the rest of the riverbank.
The growing light of the morning was now showing enough of the ground for her to be able to make out a way through the trees. It was late autumn, early winter and most of the foliage was gone. She saw a group of trees that still had most of their leaves. The leaves shone in brilliant, saturated oranges, yellows and reds. They seemed to resonate with the rising color of the day, glowing in the early morning, giving out far more light than the day gave to them. Manueline felt the trees were shouting at her, a joyous, yellow noise full of warmth and generosity, willing to give back everything they received and more besides. She was drawn to them and pulled Wals along with her, making for the trees.
Wals was quite gone from her mind; she paid him no more attention than the sack she carried. He was just a burden she had taken on and would not put down. When he stumbled or held back, she gripped him tightly, more tightly than she needed to and pulled him along, at times jerking and shaking him. She shifted her grip on the sack, wishing she had kept the mooring rope from the boat so she could tie the sack around her shoulders and leave both hands free. She hefted it up on to her shoulder, feeling it thump against her back as she pulled Wals along with her towards the brilliant trees.
The trees sang their yellow song of the day; there was very little warmth in it just light; bright, yellow light that shone out of the leaves. There were some evergreens scattered about the forest, still dark and heavy with the green of their foliage. The evergreens were dark like the dim colors of the night and the darkness out on the river. One group of trees she was almost stopped by, they called to her so strongly. The trees had lost almost all their leaves but there was still a scattering of leaves like stars in the night sky, bright and vibrant against a backdrop of dark evergreens. They shimmered against the dark, defying the night; though as she watched she saw one of them tremble, loose its grip and fall, fluttering and twisting down to the ground, joining the carpet of leaves turning back into the soil they came from.
Manueline shook herself, shifted her grip on the sack and pulled Wals, making him move again. She dragged him up the hill towards the trees and was soon walking under the cover of the branches above her with a compelling sense of the light being all around her.
The day was getting much brighter and the trees shone with the growing light. Manueline walked amongst them, taken quite out of herself. She felt as though the light was within her, as though she was giving off light like the trees, glowing in the early morning, a beautiful, bright yellow presence at the beginning of the day.
When she came to the path it seemed a natural progression to her; a natural passing from the nightmare of the river to the climb up the river bank, her sight of the trees and then being amongst them. It seemed like a perfectly natural thing that a path would open up before them and lead them deep into the forest, taking them a way that other people would never find and could never follow. It was their path. Circumstances had made the path for them and only they could take it and survive.
There was a strong sense of foreshortening for her as she looked at the path winding gently up the hill under the trees. It seemed that she could see far beyond the limits of her sight. The path gave her not only a way into the future but a glimpse of the future itself, it was more than just a path through space, it was a path through time as well. It would open for her when she needed it, take her where she needed to go, give her the strength she needed to make a way for herself in life and for those she cared to take with her.
She looked for the first time in a long time at Wals, looking to see how he was. He stumbled along beside her, driven by her grip. He was trembling, something he hadn't done in the boat and it had worried her. That he trembled now seemed a good thing to her as though his body were shaking him back into life again. She thought of stopping but decided against it. The call of the path was too strong, she felt compelled to follow it just a little longer, letting it lead them where they needed to go while they still had the strength to move.
To follow this thread in the story go to: Too Exposed
The next section to read is: Dressed in a Sack
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JP Thompson (patrick@standingwaiting.com)