Read Online An Island Between Two Shores by Graham Wilson - Free Book Online

have a fish.
    Liana knew that the salmon had finished spawning many weeks before she washed onto the island. Salmon camps had lined the Yukon River with their nets strung along booms made of spruce logs. Fish wheels modeled on Scandinavian originals fifty feet high had slowly spun in the current, scooping salmon night and day. Massive log drying racks with bright orange salmon split down the middle squatted in the last rays of summer. Her hope was for a straggler, a salmon that was sick or weak or somehow delayed in reaching its spawning grounds. It was a big river and had to have a lot of fish in it, she thought. If not a salmon, perhaps a Dolly Varden would find her bait. Most likely, a scrawny grayling would find its way onto the hook and in an instant be on shore cut into a hundred bite-sized pieces. Liana feared weakening and drifting away in her sleep, her body washed into the river with the spring floods. She could almost feel the raven’s sharp beak pulling out her eyes, leaving grotesque, empty sockets in its wake.
    Aside from the faint hum of the distant canyon and the gentle rustle of the breeze, the day was silent. Liana glanced upstream at the sentinel rock wall and thought of the horror of the rapids it contained. She wished that she had been more alert and hadn’t entered the canyon. A portage would have taken a day or two but would have assured her safety.
    She pressed her wound with one hand and tucked her chin into her jacket. Hours passed and her hip burned. Flurries of snow buffeted her face and made her squint and her cheek muscles tired. Liana kept her vigil but could not see any fish. She preferred the shelter of the friendly log. Crouching next to the river left her exposed to the breeze. But catching fish could easily tip the scales of survival in her favour and help her escape this miserable place.
    As the sun plunged behind the ridge Liana listlessly pulled in the line. She wound the line and carefully placed it, the hook, and the pale white bait in the leather slip and into her chest pocket. She looked into the current and searched once more for the telltale flash of a fish. She dipped her hand into the river and cupped a couple of slurps of water. It trickled down her parched throat and she felt momentarily revived, but hunger pulsed in her belly and her hip throbbed. She stood stiffly and raised her hands over her head and stretched her aching back. In the fading light she lifted her face to the brightening stars and closed her eyes. At the end of this fruitless day, Liana felt more discouraged than she had ever felt before in her life. She looked at the log in the shadowy gloom and her heart sank as she struggled with the reality of another tortuous night.
    Liana scanned the great forest and its utter desolation startled her. The vastness of the dusk sky washed over her, and faint stars dotted the indigo sky. She turned and stumbled in the twilight back toward the log. As she climbed under it, the raven twisted its head and called its dreadful song one last time. She could see its throat expand and contract as the greasy notes slid from its distended beak. As Liana slid her legs underneath the log, she said in a defiant whisper “Not today.” As if he understood, the raven fell quiet and preened its wings in the fading light. A heavy veil of cold slipped down the mountainsides and poured into the valley.
    In Liana’s dreams the raven perched on a polished walnut armoire in her childhood bedroom. The raven tried to steal her silver hairbrush but it had difficulty picking it up and was unable to fly out her bedroom window. Instead it flapped around her room, knocking dolls and books from their shelves. Liana caught a framed photograph of her grandmother before it hit the floor. Wolves bared their teeth from the open window. Liana tried to shoo the raven out her window by waving her hands and shouting. Instead, the raven flew into her closet where it started shredding her Sunday dress with its