At the Mouth of the River of Bees: Stories by Kij Johnson

Author:Kij Johnson [Johnson, Kij]
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3
Tags: cookie429, Kat, Extratorrents
ISBN: 9781931520812
Publisher: Small Beer Press
Published: 2012-09-11T04:00:00+00:00

Morning light gleamed through the cabin’s window when Richard heard the sound of her feet outside. The door flew open in the wind, flakes whirling to settle everywhere. Addie was silhouetted in the doorway. “I thought you’d be gone by now.”

“Jeff will land right out here.” Richard had spent most of the morning hauling the crates he was taking out with him down to the ice; he slammed a notebook into a last half-filled pack. “You shouldn’t have gone, Addie. We can’t make him wait, not with the weather like this.”

“I was with the wolves.” She stepped forward into the room. Light from the lamp and the window fell on her face. It was masked in gouts of blood and sinew.

“You’re covered in blood,” he said with horror.

She rubbed at the gelled stains that darkened her parka. “I’m fine. It’s from the moose. They accepted me. They got the male they were chasing, the one you shot. The alpha saw me, he let me feed off the kill. I came back for my axe.”

“The wolves let you approach?”

“They let me in.” She reached across him for the hatchet and the snare and dropped them into her pocket. “I followed them. The kill smelled good and I’ve been hungry, so I crawled down to it. The alpha watched and let me feed. He was three feet from me. I could smell his fur. It was just dawn. He accepted me.” Through the blood, she smiled at him, radiant, beautiful in that moment with her mad golden eyes.

“The pack accepted you?” he repeated.

“I ate so much and then we slept together,” she continued, not hearing. She was stuffing packs of food into her pockets. “I could reach out and touch one of the cubs, the pale red one, I was that close. I have to go back now. As soon as the moose is done, we’re going to the south end of the range, by the foot of Horsehead Mountain.”

One of the sores on her cheek was beginning to ooze. She rubbed it absently, smearing moose blood into the pus there, apparently without pain. “There are caribou by the mountain. We’ll—”

“Addie,” Richard said. “You’re imagining it all.”

She looked at him for a moment. “You’ll never dance with us. You’ll never feel the cubs’ noses against your face.”

“There is no ‘us.’ It’s not real, Addie. Jeff will take us—us, you and me, the humans—to Yellowknife, and we’ll get help there.”

She turned away. “They’re waiting.”

“They’re not. You’re sick. You need help.” Richard reached for her hand, but she brought the heel of her palm up to his chin hard, and punched him twice under the ribs.

Richard lunged for Addie. She jumped back and cracked the back of her knees against the bed frame. Before she could regain her balance, he caught both her wrists. For a moment they stood toe to toe. She glared into his eyes, her teeth bared and the cords of muscle in her jaw sharp beneath her blistered skin.

The cuffs still lay on the table behind him.

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