Jasyn and the Astronauts: Under the Ice Skies by Gwenhyver

Author:Gwenhyver [Gwenhyver]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Sky Dog Books
Published: 2023-08-06T22:00:00+00:00

As morning light drizzles between the trees, Jasyn lifts her head from the comfort of Atalanta’s shoulder. The area behind her eyes throbs from last night’s tears, not allowing her even a moment to forget.

Mist lingers. The wind whistles up above, but more gently and without the skull-breaking addition of hail.

They need to get going, or they’ll never catch up.

Atalanta wakes with a wince as she adjusts her injured shoulder.

Jasyn fears this journey may lead to something worse than injury. The need to keep Atalanta safe conjures a whisper from her: “You should go home,” she signs. “Back to your den in the woods.”

With groggy eyes, Atalanta scowls at her, searching Jasyn’s face for further explanation, until her focus veers to the thicket. Reaching for her bow, she gestures for Jasyn to be quiet, letting her know, “There’s something out there.”

Beyond the occasional disconcerting squawks of birds, Jasyn can’t hear anything.

With careful footsteps, Atalanta treads around the sword-hacked tree carcass, far less imposing in the light of day.

Claiming the ice-sword with her cape, Jasyn follows until Atalanta motions for her to stop. Deciphering the tracks in the ground, with concentration and calculation, Atalanta adjusts her Transonics. And, not for the first time, Jasyn wonders what it would be like to experience Atalanta’s perception of the world.

When Atalanta lifts her bow and arrow, Jasyn follows her line of sight. It takes seconds of staring, but there, peeking out from the knee of a gnarly tree, its movements inaudible to Jasyn’s ear, almost invisible against the snow-covered knolls, is the grey-white shape of a snow-deer.

Atalanta lowers her bow.

Another shape takes form slowly, the layers of grey and white difficult to decipher, as a tiny fawn hazards closer to its mother. There’s something so innocent about the moment, about a child seeking out its parent, it brings a lump to Jasyn’s throat.

Her thoughts clip short as the deer jolts, collapsing in a cascade of red on pure snow.

With a look like thunder, Atalanta trains her arrow on the unseen culprit.

“Gotcha.” Peleus looks mighty pleased with himself as he struts from behind a tree to retrieve his axe-knife from the creature with a sickening, skull-breaking crack.

As the fawn cowers among the prominent roots and tangle of frost-berry brambles, Peleus lifts his axe-knife, ready to strike.

Thwack-thwack-thwack—

Atalanta’s arrows plant through his sleeve, anchoring him to a tree.

“Oh, for hail’s sake,” Peleus grumbles as Atalanta and Jasyn emerge from the thicket. “You know, this sentimentality won’t see us lasting long.” He grimaces as Jasyn makes slow work of freeing him from the arrows and Atalanta kneels before the shaking creature. So small and lost without its mother.

“It’d be a kindness to kill it,” says Peleus, as if he hadn’t been the cause of its predicament.

Jasyn is beginning to understand now why a friendship between them has never materialised.

“What’re you waiting for?” says Peleus, heaving the carcass over his shoulder and heading for camp. “I’m famished.”

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