Blue Mountain by Martine Leavitt

Blue Mountain by Martine Leavitt

Author:Martine Leavitt
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780374378653
Publisher: Farrar, Straus and Giroux (BYR)


OTTER

The ewes and Ovis leaped and ran to Tuk and Rim as they emerged from the trees on the west side of the river. Rim told them how they had escaped the bear as they continued walking west, away from the river. They laughed to hear the story. Tuk said to Dall, “Old bear said something about a bog ahead.”

“Bogs are mostly shallow,” she said hopefully.

“We might be able to find another way,” Tuk said. “But—” He stopped and then said very low, “I am sure now. White wolf has picked up our trail and follows us. Can you smell him, Dall?”

“I can.”

“Perhaps a bog would discourage a bear or a wolverine or a wolf,” Tuk said.

The bog was a great emptiness stretching out between them and meadow mountain. Listless water spread over the valley floor and clumps of weeds reached desperately out of the water, as if to keep from drowning. In places an orange scum bubbled on the surface. On leafless trees, long ago drowned, gray plates of fungus grew, frilled and white at the edges. Cloud shadow shifted over the surface water, making Tuk think of dark creatures beneath.

“So this is a bog,” said Rim.

They stood and stared and twitched away the mosquitoes that whined in their ears.

“Maybe we should go around,” Nai said.

Dall said, “If we go through, our scent may be lost in the water.”

“We can swim,” Tuk said, “if it’s not too far.” But as he surveyed the bog, he knew it would be too far. The bottom, from what he could tell, was clogged with drowned deadwood.

“Wen disagrees with bogs,” Sham said, shaking her head.

Dall stared at the expanse of still water as if she did not know how to begin.

“Perhaps we could ask him,” Mouf said. “He has been watching us for some time.”

They followed her gaze and saw an otter sitting on a little ark of sticks and debris. He had a coat slick as dark ice.

Seeing that they had discovered him, the otter came closer. “What kind of animal are you?” he asked.

“We are the bighorn,” Tuk said, dropping his head in a brief bow.

“But your horns are not big.”

“We—the males—will have big horns someday,” Tuk said. “We are only yearlings.”

“We mean to cross the bog,” Dall said.

“A bog has channels that you can’t see,” the otter said, grinning. “Deep parts, but also shallow parts that are thick with weeds and creepers. And sometimes quicksand.”

“Wen disagrees with quicksand,” Sham said.

“I have never seen creatures like you before,” said the otter. “It is boring in a bog. Nothing happens, nothing at all. Oh, you know, your usual death by predator, but other than that— No female otter will come be my mate in such a boring place. But if I help you cross the bog, what a story it would make.”

“We would be grateful for your help,” Dall said.

“Follow me. I know where the water is shallow and the footing easier,” the otter said. “You won’t have to swim much, and I hope I won’t lead you through quicksand.



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