The Mantooth | Page 9

uncertain melancholy, her mind buried deep in her thoughts.

Chapter 5
Peering down at the entrance of the larger cave, Sylviana kept her vigil. Kalus had long since fallen asleep, something which troubled her deeply. She could not understand how he could be so indifferent about the fate of her only friend. She herself had remained on the lip of rock just beyond the smaller niche for what seemed an eternity, and still had seen no sign of either wolf or spider.
She had passed much of the time by studying the awesome landscape that opened so broadly before her, her first unobstructed view. And she could summon just enough geology and topography to be both puzzled and intrigued by the inexplicable diversity of it.
To the left of them, due south at a distance of roughly five miles, lay a massive sandstone ridge, descending from a high central erg in two long arms that reached out west and southwest beyond the edge of sight. Eroded by wind and water, it reminded her most of photographs she had seen of Monument Valley in the west, though not so old or well defined.
Then there was the phenomenon of the line of granite cliffs from which she now surveyed the valley. As nearly as she could tell it ran directly north-south at an altitude varying from five- to fifteen-hundred feet. At its base, directly below them, a shallow gorge crept slowly southward to end in a shadowed overhang at the foot of the sandstone ridge. How the two lines of vastly divergent rock had come together to form such a neat corner she could not guess. Perhaps violent flooding had deposited the sand during a great turmoil of the sea, then left it to slowly age and weather through the intervening centuries. How many she dared not even think. The contrast between the two was like day and night.
And to the southwest there occurred yet another bizarre conflict. Directly in front of them, across the gorge, lay a vast and gentle-hilled grassland, dotted with muddy pools and small clusters of wide, African-looking trees. Large herds of grazing animals sauntered across it at a distance which defied close description. But at the foot of the sandstone was only cactus and desert prairie. The meeting of the two, in a long zig-zagging line between rows of opposing hills, was awkward at best.
And farther west, beyond the savanna larger hills appeared, covered with trees and high bramble, leading away out of sight. The horizon to the north was similar, but here the hills were sharper, velveted with pine, and broken by stark projections of weather-worn granite, apparently the oldest and most ‘natural' part of the Valley. That is, she thought, they seemed the least out of place.
She tried hard to read its subtle clues, but still the riddle of conflicting landscapes eluded her. The only certainty was that the nuclear holocaust had been everything its foretelling prophets had said it would be: a complete annihilation of the world she had known, with a savage and unpredictable rebirth.
Like echoes of a mournful dream, all manner of warm and painful memories now seemed to come to her from out of the day, phantoms of a past too beautiful to be real. She thought of her peaceful home in the wooded, northeastern town. Her father, her friends. All dead. Why had she been left to go on living? She remembered the words of the Spirit: 'glorious struggle,' and 'the flame within.' But where was the glory when all she could feel was pain and emptiness? Where was He now? And as she looked out upon the scene that Nature played before her, she realized for the first time and with crushing certainty that life was finite. Physical reality . . .was real. The message hammered into her relentlessly: all things must one day pass. She would die, as a hundred billion creatures had died before her. DIED.
It all became too much. Seeking escape, her mind returned to the present. But that only made her think of her friend, the gentle wolf, still trapped inside the cave, still in great danger. And as the sun continued to set far in the west, turning sky to purple and clouds to pink, she had all but given up hope when the downward spiral of her thoughts was broken by the gentle tremor of wings overhead.
The sound seemed to come from above and behind her, moving with deliberate slowness toward the nearer reaches of the sandstone ridge, now painted a deep orange-red and pocked with growing shadows. Straining her eyes in the failing light, she thought she saw a large, multi-winged creature land gracefully atop a weathered crag that shot up high above the rest. But in the distance and gathering darkness she could not be