Read Online Dreamfisher by Nancy Springer - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Nancy Springer
Tags: Fantasy
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she winced anew at the memories, and her heart hurt worse than her body or her face.
Close at hand lay a deerskin bunched into a bundle. The girl stared at it a moment before she fumbled it open. Inside she found a few rounds of cake and three strips of dried venison. And a stone even larger than a man’s clenched fist.
The girl flung the rock away, but its message stayed with her, all too clear: she was not to return.
At least someone cared whether she might starve. She stared at the flat cakes. They looked like the cakes her mother made. But then, all cakes looked much the same.
Her throat closed against the sight of the cakes, but she felt thirst. Drink. She needed to find drink.
Many nameless shallow waters sprang out of that mountainside, running down over rocks to no one knew where. Taking the deerskin laden with provisions, the girl walked aimlessly until she heard a trickling sound. When she found the stream—it could have been any mountainside rill, perhaps a few fingers deep and no broader than her slender body—she cupped her hands to drink, then splashed water on her face. Its cold touch stung her reddened eyes, yet soothed her soul.
She started downmountain, following the stream.
She had no reason for doing this except that she had to go somewhere, and the water would give her drink.
None of her people ever ventured downmountain.
But they were not her people anymore.
* * *
She walked through days and shivered through nights and saw many deer but no folk, nor did she expect to find any; she presumed no people in the world but those—those who were no longer her people.
A day came when she had nothing left to eat except her last half-round of cake. Following the rill, she saw it run through a cleft of stone too narrow for her. A rift of rock stood in her way; she climbed it, as she had climbed many others. But this time, as she reached the top, she stiffened to a halt, dropped to a crouch and stared.
“What is it?” she whispered.
A dark bright bigness filled a hollow of the rocks, gleaming and giving off sparks of white light amid colors, sky stone tree colors all blended. What was this shining mystery? And where had her rill gone?
For a long time she froze like a rabbit, only her nostrils moving to catch any hint of danger. When her fear lessened, she clambered to the cleft where the stream ran. Peering down, she traced the stream’s shadowed course.
“Water?”
The bigness had to be water, it grew out of water and therefore must be water, yet—she stood atop the crags at a cautious distance and stared—yet how was it water? It seemed packed or piled in such a way as she had never seen, so much water in one place that it took on gloss and color, and she could not look through it to whatever lay beneath. Perhaps there was no bottom? But there had to be. Stone held it.
“Like when I hold water in my hands to drink,” she breathed. The mountain held this water in one place?
Slowly she walked forward for a better look—then leaped back, for she had seen the form of a person moving on the sheen of the water. Her knees weakened. She sat trembling atop the rocks.
Yet she did not leave. She whispered, “It looks like—like….”
She had to know what it was, this place that made water look like other things.
Still trembling, she eased forward on her hands and knees. Crouching over the stillwater wonder she gazed, gazed, and in the muchwater she saw intimations of light, dark, shift, change; the personform was only a shadow now, blended with darker green shadow that hinted of tree. After a time fascination put an end to the girl’s trembling, and she sat atop the rocks with her legs dangling over the edge, staring down into wonder.
It looks…like….
Like the surface of night sky, glinting with stars behind which she sensed depths she could not guess. Or like a dusky rainbow—
Hunger pain interrupted her thoughts; she reached for her last half-round of cake and bit into it. A tiny
Close at hand lay a deerskin bunched into a bundle. The girl stared at it a moment before she fumbled it open. Inside she found a few rounds of cake and three strips of dried venison. And a stone even larger than a man’s clenched fist.
The girl flung the rock away, but its message stayed with her, all too clear: she was not to return.
At least someone cared whether she might starve. She stared at the flat cakes. They looked like the cakes her mother made. But then, all cakes looked much the same.
Her throat closed against the sight of the cakes, but she felt thirst. Drink. She needed to find drink.
Many nameless shallow waters sprang out of that mountainside, running down over rocks to no one knew where. Taking the deerskin laden with provisions, the girl walked aimlessly until she heard a trickling sound. When she found the stream—it could have been any mountainside rill, perhaps a few fingers deep and no broader than her slender body—she cupped her hands to drink, then splashed water on her face. Its cold touch stung her reddened eyes, yet soothed her soul.
She started downmountain, following the stream.
She had no reason for doing this except that she had to go somewhere, and the water would give her drink.
None of her people ever ventured downmountain.
But they were not her people anymore.
* * *
She walked through days and shivered through nights and saw many deer but no folk, nor did she expect to find any; she presumed no people in the world but those—those who were no longer her people.
A day came when she had nothing left to eat except her last half-round of cake. Following the rill, she saw it run through a cleft of stone too narrow for her. A rift of rock stood in her way; she climbed it, as she had climbed many others. But this time, as she reached the top, she stiffened to a halt, dropped to a crouch and stared.
“What is it?” she whispered.
A dark bright bigness filled a hollow of the rocks, gleaming and giving off sparks of white light amid colors, sky stone tree colors all blended. What was this shining mystery? And where had her rill gone?
For a long time she froze like a rabbit, only her nostrils moving to catch any hint of danger. When her fear lessened, she clambered to the cleft where the stream ran. Peering down, she traced the stream’s shadowed course.
“Water?”
The bigness had to be water, it grew out of water and therefore must be water, yet—she stood atop the crags at a cautious distance and stared—yet how was it water? It seemed packed or piled in such a way as she had never seen, so much water in one place that it took on gloss and color, and she could not look through it to whatever lay beneath. Perhaps there was no bottom? But there had to be. Stone held it.
“Like when I hold water in my hands to drink,” she breathed. The mountain held this water in one place?
Slowly she walked forward for a better look—then leaped back, for she had seen the form of a person moving on the sheen of the water. Her knees weakened. She sat trembling atop the rocks.
Yet she did not leave. She whispered, “It looks like—like….”
She had to know what it was, this place that made water look like other things.
Still trembling, she eased forward on her hands and knees. Crouching over the stillwater wonder she gazed, gazed, and in the muchwater she saw intimations of light, dark, shift, change; the personform was only a shadow now, blended with darker green shadow that hinted of tree. After a time fascination put an end to the girl’s trembling, and she sat atop the rocks with her legs dangling over the edge, staring down into wonder.
It looks…like….
Like the surface of night sky, glinting with stars behind which she sensed depths she could not guess. Or like a dusky rainbow—
Hunger pain interrupted her thoughts; she reached for her last half-round of cake and bit into it. A tiny
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