"Sioobb!â he hissed, âSiob wake up!"
The window, still, was bereft of candlelight and a fierce, howling wind was all that made itself known.
He bit his cracked lips and shook his hands, then plucked a stone from the mud with fingers frozen near stiff and hurled it up at the window. A poor shot it was though, which he reproachfully owed to his shaking hands; and he watched as it ricocheted off of the sill, then sadly fell to the squelchy sod roofing, making a noise that would have been inaudible even in the faintest breeze.
He pawed blindly for another, and once more tossed the stone, much harder this time, and he saw it collide with a rotted corbel beneath the sill and rapped at it, before falling lifelessly to the decking.
This seemed to do the trick.Â
A dim light flickered from within; there was a stir and down came the sounds of rustling and creaking floorboards. He didnât have to wait long before the tiny door slid open letting an orange light stream out, faintly silhouetting a figure.
The boy slinking out into the soft glow of the morning was of small frame and stature. On him he wore a thick woolen coat, lined about the mantle with even thicker and considerably dirtier tufts of fur, which stood on end in the cold; overtop was a thinner, though not by much, layer of red plaid: also wool, fastened and slung across his shoulder, and was held in place by a penannular brooch. His head was crowned by a white ushanka, which held a single solitary egret feather. He was rummaging through a worn leather knapsack.
"Mornin' Pam." said he, head still buried within the bag.
"Mornin' Siob" Pam answered. He too wore a similar garment to Siobhan, though he bore no ushanka atop his brow, instead possessing a thick head of crimson hair, which was braided about his ears, perhaps to try and contain its mess. Though, windswept with salt and storm as it was, it didn't manage much success.
His tartan was ochreish, and held in place with a knot, not a brooch.Â
Siob pulled his head from his bag, ears already reddening with cold, "Is it time?"Â
"I reckon so. Have you brought it?" Pam asked, doing little to hide his attempts as to nose the contents of Siobâs satchel; which was quickly slammed shut.Â
"That I have" he replied, flashing a pair of old binoculars, before hiding it away in the knapsack. He buckled it tight, for the wind was looking for trouble.
"Good, it won't be till a while longer. Let's get gone."
It was dreadfully cold - freezing in fact - and the soil remained stubbornly wet with the remnants of last night's storm, which still maintained a determined trickle even now, and had reduced leagues of grasslands to a boggy mire. It rained oft in the prairies and the heaths of what is now Relwher, and Hoofstadt slept at the northern fringes of Relwherian rule; and with these extreme latitudes often came hardships of equal measure. Hoofstadt, cradled by steadfast peaks - the Simvhal range to the North and the Hiocks to the South - was rocked by thunderous southbound squalls, and remained a deeply secluded and undesirable region; trade was sparse, and wealth doubly so.Â
As such, the hamlet - which straddled the Thwaite river - relied heavily on its resource, drawing from it minnows, pikes, halkfins, pinals, shrews, even some catfish dwelt in the muddy pools of water that made up the valley floor, remaining there after various long past flooding events. It did not matter to those that dwelt there in that village, for there is nothing else.
Long barges manned by two or three sometimes drifted along the river, carrying aboard meagre supplies of furs and salt, hatchets, adzes and skinning blades, few sacks of barley and corn, and in return there may have been crates of wool or barrels of fish oil, salted fish and offal, or cured leather and hewn timber heaved onto the barges.Â
It was a spectacle in the dreary town.
The boys would often sit by the muddy banks and watch the commotion of the tiny dockyard; the haggling merchants vying for the shipments that came in at higher prices then lower, and then higher again - their shouts merging into one homogenous bustle - the sounds of the aching pulleys and cranes that lifted cargo to and fro, they'd listen to the abrupt liveliness of Hoofstadt brought about by these strangers from distant shores, and wonder where the vessel had hailed from.
ââIsa Tiyelââ Siob whispered, eyes squinting to make out the carved lettering on the stern. A small banner had flown from the masthead but was too haggard to make anything of it.
They'd watch as the barges drift away, slowly crawling back upstream and past the mountains, into warmer pastures; and they dreamt absentmindedly of life across the distant mountain pass.Â
âWhaddya think it means?â Pam asked.
The skies overhead were rarely accompanied by even a sliver of blue - save for purplish hues in the thundercloud - and today was no different.
Quickly through the muddy streets they went; hopping and scampering over small enclaves of murky ponds and dank grass; dim, sienna-coloured plants with barbs jabbed maliciously at their feet and jagged rocks beneath their soles scratched and clawed like sandpaper takes to a rough piece of bark. Both Pam and Siob were used to the nature of Hoofstadt by now; the screeching winds, the calamitous roars of thunder, and the subsequent downpours, but even little Siob would admit - even if it was just an idle grumble - that travelling under cover of night was a fool's errand, and posed them no minor risk - even greater would the risk be should blasted Mr Pecks, or confound it his mother! find out about this - but it would have taken more than a miracle to sway Siob then, for it was he who twisted Pamâs arm into this endeavour; into this mad dash for the safety of a thin bundle of pines sat atop a wide sloping hill; for they were going to meet with a monster.
Frost snapped at his red nose and squeezed his ears âtill they throbbed and went numb; and the gale slapped him cheek to cheek as a scolding mother would. Without the film of sun beating down on their backs, it was almost unbearable. Almost.
"You don't think we could have waited till daybreak?â Siob called against the advancing wind, wincing as he did, at each frozen blade stabbing into his feet. âLeast that way our feet would have feelinâ when we got back."Â
Pam agreed silently but returned, "The andalanch told me it was cominâ now, and so's I tell ya to come now. If you wanna miss it again, by all means-"
"Wells then stop your complaininââ Pam cried, nearly unable to hear his own voice, âit'll hear you and get nervous. Andalanches is shy for such hefty beasts''Â
Pam frequented his off days (which were most if not all of the week), if not venturing into the streaky brown sea of straw with Siobhan, then it was by scavenging bits and pieces from alleys and hidden crevices. It never would amount to much, the odd nail or rotted marionette, but these things went by for quite a bit amongst schoolboys who had nought else. But that wasnât all, snuck up behind an emptied barrel or pile of damp firewood heâd listen for voices that didnât sense his presence, through the thin, crack streaked beams of wood that made up Hoofstadtâs homes, and this, he found, meant that his word had the backing of the olduns too - even if he did have to âfill in the gapsâ on his own.
"It can hear too?â Siob said incredulously, âHow's that?"Â
Pam paused. He wasnât much of an inquisitive type in spite of all the things he heard around town, what he does muchly went for fact without second thoughts,Â
"I ain't sure..â Pam called back, after a pause. âol' Daquilo didn't explain the who's and the how's. Maybe one of them book'll tell ya, like the ones in that new library."Â
But Siob didnât take much for reading, nor was he one to take someoneâs word for gospel, âless it was someone quite sage-like: like Pam.
"Books ain't do too much but say a whole lotta nonsense, it's the going out there and seeing that's the real teacher I says" He said in between breaths.
"You think they make it up?"
"Aye I do, most of em anyway. Say, you don't think we'll see the andalanche's ears, do ya? Or it's teeth?!"
"Can't say, all I knows is, whatever Olâ Play says is mostly true⊠well thatâs what he tells me anyways.â
"Hah! I wouldnât trust that old drunk far as I could throw him, and heâs pretty big!" Siob laughed and gestured an imaginary belly.
Pam stopped walking at a drop, the town walls - once fortress-like and steadfast - had shrunk to a thin staining strip against the mountainous backdrop, and was judged to be many miles behind them now. Dew-covered vegetation - not squelchy mud - now crunched beneath them. The mountains watched them ominously.Â
"Do you hear that, Pam?"Â
A sound like a muffled thundercrack rang out, followed by silence and quieter still, a low ominous ringing.
The humming of the mountains.
"That I do" He looked at the far away peaks.
Siob grabbed Pam's hand, "Come on Pam let's go!"Â
âslow down!.. im cominâ..âÂ
They finally approached the steep hill, which they had fashioned into a lookout tower - and made for decent wind cover owing to the pines that strangely grew alone here. The mound posed a great vantage, they had found, overlooking most of the vast plains of the valley, providing them uninhibited view of the snowy crests that were rooted north, and the warm, welcoming oil wick lanterns that lay in the south.Â
With eyes that darted back and forth, Siob whispered frantically, "Where is it Pam? Where is it? Did we miss it?"Â
"Nah I reckon not,â Pam said coolly, âit usually takes a while to get all fired up, I don't think it's started yet."
Siob sighed in repose, then rummaged through his knapsack and pulled out his mother's binoculars. He set them on the grass while he shoved his gloves in the sack.
Pam, as to keep watchful of the avalanche - though moreso out of fascination with the binoculars - stuck them to his head.
âSay Siob I thinks these bânoculers are broke, we wonâ see nothinâ of an andalanche through these!â
ââS not broke, idiot, youâs didna take off caps. Gimme that-â
Siob made swipes at the binoculars, with Pamela pulling away as to keep hold of those foreign spectacles, but managed to wrestle it from his grip, making a fact of pulling off the lens covers before handing it back to Pam, thoroughly delensed.
"Can' believe your ma would letcha borrow those things,â He said reverently, ogling the technology, âgotta be mighty pricey-"
"Shh Pam, we oughta be listeninâ.âÂ
Pam gazed out over the morning landscape with still crusted eyes from his early awakening - not to mention the icy crystallisation of his eyelids. He saw the bogs that bubbled and burped in strange putrid warmth, and the small creeks that ran and scittered through the valley, and the pine woodlands that stretched further on like pulled fingers, but their prey remained unseen.
"I don't see it, Pam! We're gonna miss it!"
"I don't think so, look-'' Pam handed Siob the binoculars, directing it towards the tallest of the snowy mountaintops.Â
At first it was unassuming, like a cloud, adopting a spectral and ghostlike quality in the morning light; its edges blurred with the firs and conifers dotted beside it and they watched as it floated gracefully about the mountainside.
Siob watched the form dance with keen eyes, mouth slightly agape, and wondered if it would grow monstrous as Pam said it would, or if it would continue its silent waltz - for Siob knew Pam was truly one for exaggerations.
His doubts were soon allayed however, as if it had suddenly taken to the idea of gravity, it tumbled and grew in all dimensions, sliding on its belly like a swollen anaconda through its demesne in the savanna plains, hidden in a grassland of pines - which it dwarfed and gored; tearing down the exposed grey of the mountain and turning it pale. It did not hiss like a snake, it roared and thundered like an enraged bull, though a thousand times more venomous, past the clouds and descending at incredible pace, great plumes of white were expunged from its form as it crashed into a jagged cliff face like an ocean wave crashing on a rocky bank. Then slowly, like the morning mist, it dissipated into the snowy backdrop. Before long all that was left was memory and the echo of that terrible rumble, reverberating in their minds.
"Where did it go, Pam?!" asked Siob, eyes still glued to the binoculars, perhaps hoping for the beast to bow, accept some thrown flowers and repeat the performance all over again. It didn't.
"I'm not sure, last I saw one I got so scared I ran away before seeinâ it through, I reckon it's still alive down there. Waitinâ for some tasty lookinâ meal to come passinâ through."
The two boys watched, in awe, the remnants of where the avalanche tore through, now an indifferent mountain slope where once had been such tremendous wroth. If you hadn't the eye for it you'd never have noticed a change; they reckoned they were the only boys in the town with that eye, no one else had faced down such a terror and lived to tell the tale. If there had been, they certainly would have heard about it.
"Well I don' wanna be no meal for a mountain monster." Siob said at last.
"Me neither," the other agreed.
"Say Pam,â finally pulling himself away from the settling spectacle, âwhat say you and me split the bragging rights half and half?"
"Braggin rights? What for?"
"For slayinâ the mountain monster, whatever else?"Â
Pam smiled an inch, before turning away.
"Credits all yours, Siob. I can always find me another andalanch. Besides I wouldna want to go about bragginâ about seeing another andalanch;â he scratched his ear, âthey only come out at night, o' course, and that could only mean one thing to them ears"
"I wouldna tell no snitches, Pam," he snapped, "but have it your way. It's more of a David n Goliath story that way, don't ya think?"
"In that it's a fiction?"Â
"A myth suits me fine, but weâd better head back soon," he nodded at the parting clouds, "dawn's breakin'"
And sure enough, a glimmer of light began to peak through the grey bulwark, the cry of the loon heralded its approach. At this call, the two boys raced back down the hill, and moved at pace back towards Hoofstadt - the morning close behind.
