Runestone by Don Coldsmith

Author:Don Coldsmith [Coldsmith, Don]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-0-553-57280-3
Publisher: Random House Publishing Group
Published: 1995-11-27T05:00:00+00:00

In a few days a routine had been established, and travel seemed easier. It had been the uncertainty, the change in day-to-day activity from the town to the trail, that had been disconcerting. But, for a people whose existence is based on meeting the problems at hand day by day, change is easily faced.

Now they settled into each day without discussion. Rise at dawn, move out on the trail as quickly as possible … more quickly now than at first. Even with the combined bands from three separate towns, and the large number of people involved, it was becoming easier. Travel, rest, move on … Sometimes wait for the scouts to verify the trail or some questionable situation, move on … Camp before dark to allow time to gather firewood, move on at dawn.

Sometimes they passed towns of other tribes. Most of these had been known to the People for many generations. In addition, the scouts had made advance contact, paying their respects to the headman of each village and explaining the purpose of the People’s trek.

Twice in the early days they camped near towns that seemed to be much like the People. The language was similar but not quite the same.

“It is like Norwegians and Danes, maybe,” observed Svenson. “Almost but not alike.”

Other villages seemed to be close allies, but spoke an entirely different tongue. Most of the People understood them well and talked easily to them.

“We have lived near them for many lifetimes,” Odin explained.

The weather was a great help, and they were putting much distance behind them. It was to be expected that they would encounter some rain. Maybe cold and sleet, even, but for the first nine or ten days’ travel it did not happen.

Then came a day when the dawn was dark and gray-blue instead of golden. Wind howled through the budding trees, and the People drew robes around them and huddled against the chill.

“Cold Maker comes once more,” said an old woman. “He sees a chance to catch us in the open.”

Nils recalled that this one had been one of the more vocal against the move from the very first.

“No good will come of this!” she predicted.

They waited, and soon the word was passed: No travel today. There was a stir of activity to seek out the best places to camp before the expected cold rain would begin.

It started as a fine mist, deceptive in its softness. Invisible droplets hanging in the air so saturated everything that the whole world seemed sodden. Objects that were still and un-moving began to appear frosted with moisture. The tiny droplets merged, becoming visibly wet. Soon these coalesced into larger, fatter drops, which formed rivulets that trickled down tree trunks, down the spread robes that formed makeshift shelters, and began to puddle on the ground. There was still no real indication of falling moisture. It was simply hanging free, soaking the air, the trees and rocks and bushes, and the garments of the People. They crouched under the scant shelter of their spread robes, and prepared to wait out the weather.

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