“The Solo Journey: overcoming obstacles alone?”
Amy Miracle woke up alone in the wilderness, and as her senses returned to her, she could distinguish various sensations drawing her out of the darkness. First there was light—a bleary, soupy gray illumination above her that was most likely a layer of clouds clotting the atmosphere and hiding the tiny sin, which was indistinguishable from her viewpoint. The surface, therefore, was monochromatic and bleak, an endless savannah made more desolate by the grim sky. The plains were flat as far as she could tell—oh, bother, her glasses had been cracked from the impact that knocked her unconscious—and the horizon remained unbroken except for a few blurs that might have been stones, the small oasis she had been thrust into, and sporadic clumps of bracken, thistles, bushes, and other tough plants that had adapted to this barren world. There was also a long, flat stone laying nearby, which she had narrowly avoided crashing into; reclining on it was a large lizard, dull-eyed and weary, apathetic to its surroundings and the new visitor.
Well, she was definitely alive, and that was something. Sound, smell, and touch came next in three successful bombardments: a howling breeze was prevalent, and the shriek of birds darting across the endless cloudy ocean made the loneliness seem even gloomier. It was otherwise quiet, though, because the wind didn’t pick up and there were no animals or springs nearby (thinking of water suddenly made her thirsty); she heard a very distant roar, and groped around for any equipment that might’ve been brought with her. The dry grass beneath her was tough and prickly, but more welcome than desolation; her right foot throbbed, bleeding quite liberally now that all the bandages had unraveled. Amy was forced to pluck clumps of grass and hold them to her heel, wincing and hissing as she thought of what to do next. Walking anywhere was completely out of the question since she had nothing to support her injured limb, and a closer inspection of her surroundings indicated she had nothing but her clothes to assist her, unless nature felt gracious enough to lend a hand.
Amy was not used to surviving in the wilderness. She was a scholar and a city girl—she had not even gone camping since her days as a Girl Scout. She almost wore herself out hobbling to the nearest tree so she could lean against it; her grass wrappings were lost and soon the ground was painted scarlet. She took several breaths and tried to calm herself. She had two doctorate degrees and strong willpower; she was determined to go through with this until she could reunite with her lost friends. Not even she could say just how or why they had separated like that, but she didn’t have the luxury to think just yet. First she had to find something to eat, and fashion something to support her injury. Amy looked to the tree and began contemplating its bounties.
She spotted a branch protruding out that looked like it would make a decent crutch, but she would have to do some climbing, and she would probably have to work hard to pry it off. She searched around for any instrument she could use to cut it loose, and saw there was a pile of smaller rocks gathered next to the large one. The lizard jerked its head and stood on full alert as she hopped over, so she made certain he would not perceive her as a threat. Since it was not much bigger than an iguana, Amy would probably be able to overpower it in a fight, but all the same…
“Just relax. I just want one of these rocks. I won’t be able to get anywhere on this foot, so I need something to support myself. I just want a rock.” The lizard scurried off anyway, terrified of the gentle giant that stooped down to gather stones. She picked out several spherical ones and two heavy wedge-shaped rocks, and stuffed them all in various pockets. Amy wasn’t terribly concerned about the condition of her clothes as she returned to the tree and tentatively began to shimmy up its rough bark: she had a hopeless sense of fashion, and her current outfit was more suited for hard work than elegance. Besides, this was her life on the line. What were a few rips, tears, and stains compared to that?
“Ouch!” Amy shrieked as her grip failed. Her hands slipped against the rough bark and were stung; her legs were scraped as well, but she was thankful she wasn’t wearing shorts. The tree had nothing to hold onto except for its gnarled skin, and the branch was about five meters away. Amy hugged the trunk close, crushing her breasts, and squeezed it with her thighs as she tried again. Little by little, she sidled up the tree, her foot burning out of control, until she came to the branch she had spied. She reached out and pulled herself up from it…and promptly screamed as it broke, sending her falling to the surface. Good thing the grass broke her fall.
“Oof,” she groaned as she threw the devilish branch off her stomach. “When the bough breaks, the cradle definitely falls. Now all I need to do is summon the strength to actually stand up!” It was tricky work considering her fall and her wound, and the tree’s discarded limb had been thrown too far to use as a support. Amy flopped around on her belly and pushed herself with her arms, then hissed as she put weight on her knees and legs, and reached out for her prize. Despite how easily it came loose, the wood was sturdy and fit underneath her arm well, once she peeled the bark off. Amy retreated to the large rock and caught her breath, fearful of what future ordeals she would have to suffer through. All that work just for a crutch…and she still had shelter, food, water, protection, her glasses, and a beacon to worry about! Indeed, her troubles were only just starting: it began to rain soon after she sat down.
“Ahh, at least it waited until I was out of that tree,” she remarked with glum optimism. It was a light shower, though, and quite cool and refreshing against her skin. Amy tried fashioning a cup from the branch leaves, but even a tub wouldn’t have helped her out: the drizzle was too weak. She managed to slurp down a few measly drops, that that only made things worse in the long run: her thirst was fully realized, and she grew desperate. Amy quickly began looking around for a better place to hide from the weather, but every direction was empty; she could actually see the point where the sky met the surface. Even if she was walking at full speed, without hunger or thirst or the pain in her foot to worry about, she would be horribly exposed wandering out there, and would probably never be found. Her friends would certainly be drawn to leafy, shaded areas amidst this wide savannah, so she resolved to stay put and take another look around. Maybe there was a pool or a grove she had overlooked. Amy could withstand the wind and rain, and had no fear of wild animals; it was hunger and thirst that concerned her.
The oasis she was temporarily stranded in was much rougher than she had anticipated. Not long after starting out, her feet were stretched and strained to their limit as she stepped over rocks, waded through thick reeds infested with every sort of bug imaginable, fell into a murky puddle (so much for keeping her socks clean!), and squeezed through clusters of large plants. Some were nearly like palm trees, and a few had even cast off their fruit for Amy to gather. She
pounded at one with her rocks until it broke open, but the juice was shockingly bitter and the flesh was too tough. She barely managed to force a small mouthful down, and groaned sickly as she went in search of better nourishment. Some of the plants could easily pass for enormous mushrooms; they towered over Amy’s head like parasols of the gods, and she dashed underneath one of the broadest to escape from the rain. She didn’t dare test to see if they were safe to eat—instead, she took her glasses off and studied them for damage. The frame had been twisted and bent a little, one of the lenses had a long, thin crack etched diagonally, and there was a little dirt caked on from her recent adventure, but they were otherwise in great shape. Amy put them away (she only needed them for reading) and casually scanned the landscape for any sign of food.
Her “oasis” was much larger than she originally thought, or else she had been wrong all this time, and had been deposited outside a forest or jungle. It was teeming with greenery, like little herbs and weeds that could probably help her wound, wild flowers and blossoms dangling above, great massive sentinels dripping from the rain—also the mushrooms, of course, which seemed no safer to eat in the wake of this new discovery—and in the distance, unless she was being deceived by her gnawing hunger, trees dangling fruit in the air. It was still too wet to venture out, though, so Amy removed some of her clothes and wrung out the water. She wrapped them around her waist, shivered to warm herself up, and allowed her mind to catch up.
Oddly enough, fighting for her life out in the middle of the wild had nearly drained her of philosophical meditation. She tried to justify her presence there—just how exactly did she end up out here all alone, completely cut off from her friends and fellow travelers?—but no explanation seemed sufficient, and she was left to wonder in circles until the rain stopped. Oh well. It probably didn’t matter how or why she was lost, the fact was that Amy was lost, and she had to survive until her friends came looking for her. Surely nobody would be able to miss this forest if they were looking for somebody! Just to be safe, Amy decided to make some beacons, and once the rain finally settled down an hour later, she limped away from her crude shelter and traced her steps back to the tough nuts she had tried to eat. The juice may have been horrible, but it had a glorious crimson color and stood out magnificently against the savannah’s dull landscape. Amy dashed the juice against the grass, scooped out as much of the flesh as she could, and spread it all out to spell “HELP”. The sign needed to be big, though, so she would have to gather more nuts (and probably more rocks), break them open, and repeat the procedure. That would certainly keep her busy, but she was too hungry to do much work, and her foot was agonizing.
Amy stumbled through the jungle a second time, picking up familiar markers as she made her way to the fruit trees (the mushrooms were easy to find). She didn’t recognize any of the fruits, and a few were squashed beyond consumption, but several were quite satisfying and filled her up quickly. She turned her discarded outer shirt into a bag and filled it with fruit, then trudged back to the palm trees, picking five nuts and putting them into the bag. It was difficult balancing all this along with her cane, and sometimes Amy was forced to put her weight on her bad foot. The pain felt like searing cold pokers plunging into her nerves, and she gnashed her teeth and even cried out.
Amy took an extra-long rest once she reached her destination, dabbing her forehead and heel until her clothes were soaked with sweat and blood, and was nearly tempted to sleep. The cloudy gray skies were getting darker and colder, and a heartless wind picked up that blew at her hair.
She hastily tied it up and found the flat rock she discovered earlier; this would be her bed until morning. She unfolded her shirt and covered herself with it like a blanket, stuffing all her food inside so it wouldn’t get carried away. She ate her fill and hoped any nearby predators would leave her alone as she closed her eyes and waited for morning to come.
……
Amy Miracle woke up alone in the wilderness, but since there are much worse places you can be (whether or not you have company), she ate a quick breakfast and began her labors. Having a doctorate in literature, she tried recalling the actions of Robinson Crusoe, and how he had managed to make a living out of whatever nature provided. Of course, he had been given almost half a ship’s supplies to aid him, and his island was much larger and more abundant with potential, and he didn’t have a foot bleeding relentlessly to impede him. On the other hand, he had much less hope of being rescued than Amy did.
Making the sign was not quite as physically perplexing as Amy had feared. The worst part was cracking open the nuts, but she had an abundant supply of stones, and they were perfectly suited to smash and cut. She mixed some of the blood from her injury into the juice and spread it out conservatively; the flesh was fairly uncooperative, and most nuts only yielded a small bounty. Her ingenuity wouldn’t be beaten so easily, though, and she used the shells, the peels and rinds from her fruit, rocks, branches, and even some of her own clothes to finish the sign. She battened down any loose articles, and stood eagerly as a breeze kicked up, rolling the clouds back and revealing a bashful blue sky. Amy took a deep breath and smiled in spite of her situation, taking pride in her humble accomplishments. Two days ago, she had been resting quietly in her comfortable room, studying a rare manuscript as she idly snacked and casually adjusted the temperature to her liking. Now look at where she was!
She leaned on her left food and looked up to see a bird circling over the clear sky. It was a majestic creature, with broad wings that shone red, blue, and green in the morning light, and a strong body with talons powerful enough to snap bones in two. Because Amy could see it so distinctly, even without her glasses, it must’ve either been an incredibly large bird, or it was descending very rapidly. In any case, she took two cautious steps back, and observed the creature spiraling to the surface. As it landed, wings fluttering like a kaleidoscope, Amy realized that both her assumptions were correct: it was much larger than normal birds, and it had been approaching quickly; she assumed it had spotted her and was coming down for a closer look. But this was not strictly a bird, but rather a harpy, descended from avians to resemble humans. Feathers sprouted from her head instead of hair, and great gossamer wings shot out from her arms like a flaming rainbow; her legs ended in claws, and she had a sharp nose and sharper eyes. Amy was startled by her appearance: she had seen this woman before.
“It’s you!” she exclaimed, beaming joyfully at the sight of another intelligent creature. The bird-woman gave a start and jerked back, horrified and infuriated.
“Oh shit, I know you!! You were with those bitches back on that Amazon planet, weren’t you? Get the hell away from me! I don’t want any more to do with you!”
“Wait, don’t go! Amy chased after her in spite of her wound, but stumbled and fell face-first in the grass. The harpy fluttered away, laughing at the poor woman’s predicament.
“Ha! It serves you right, after what your friends put me through!” Amy raised her grassy face and sputtered; her eyes shone pitiably.
“But why are you mad at me for something they did?”
“It doesn’t matter! You’re part of that peanut gallery!”
“That’s not fair! Do people judge you based on the actions of your friends and family?” Amy’s probing question terminated the harpy’s flight, and she skidded to the ground and jumped over to her, as fast as a hare. Amy struggled to stand; the harpy bent down to pick her up, in spite of her better judgment.
“God-damn it, I hate it when people are right. Okay, so maybe I don’t have anything against you personally, but if I see any of those fuckers around here, I won’t hesitate to leave them behind!”
“Please don’t be so harsh on them,” Amy begged. “Most of them are very nice people, and I love them. Some are…more difficult than others, but I’d like to believe I can get through to them. Well, for better or worse, they’re not here right now. I’m afraid I’ll have to rely on your hospitality if I’m to make it anywhere.”
“Yeah, I saw your sign while I was flying around. Uh, you do realize that it will be hard to see that from the ground, right?” Amy hung her head timidly, rubbing her fingers.
“I didn’t know what else to do. But it did work, right? You’re here.”
“And what makes you think I’ll help you?!” she screeched. Amy gave her a penetrating smile, face glowing with purest love.
“If I ask nicely, you might! I could use a friend, and I think you could too.”
“I’ve had it up to here with people who say they’re my friend!” she spat. But the harpy couldn’t resist that trusting stare, so she rubbed her face and adapted a more hospitable tone. “Uh, hey, what’s your name, anyway?”
“It’s Amy, Amy Miracle.” She raised her eyebrows in surprise.
“You wouldn’t happen to be doctor Miracle, would you? The Dr. Miracle?!”
“One and the same,” she blushed. The harpy rolled her eyes.
“And here I thought you were some kind of interstellar being. The rumors sure have been exaggerated!!”
“I’m afraid that’s my fault,” Amy laughed. “I really wanted to guarantee my privacy, so I did my best to throw everyone off the trail. I guess it worked! So what’s your name?”
“When I’m outside my home world, people just call me ‘Breathless’, but my real name is Ferrara Drahnis Wynhmn il Firtwyt-Ly. It basically translates as ‘from the house of Firtwyt, she who leaves those in her wake breathless with awe and fear’.”
“Would it be all right if I just called you Ferrara?” Amy’s sweet smile disarmed the harpy, and she muttered an affirmative, still unsure about this mysterious, gentle, innocent lady. She was not merely dwelling on her two previous encounters with Miracle’s crew: Ferrara had been assaulted before by other treasure-hunters, some just as greedy and ruthless as Vimmy, and had been cast away from her own kind after exhibiting excessively violent and belligerent behavior. That wasn’t very fair: Ferrara merely had a problem with possessiveness—but she only acted that way with things she believed nobody else had claimed. In truth, she was only violent towards thieves, and judging by the intensity of her emotions, one could surmise she was either a treasure-hunter of unsurpassed quality, or blessed with great luck at finding artifacts, for so many people followed her precedent and, finding a disagreeable harpy amassing all that wealth, assumed this was an evil creature, and they the virtuous warrior out to free it from her unworthy hands.
“You have every right to be offended,” Amy admitted as Ferrara grumbled about her history. “I completely agree with your philosophy. No matter who finds something first, it’s theirs to keep and nobody has the right to take it away from them. But you have to remember there are some people out there who don’t want that treasure being used for ‘the wrong purposes’. I know you don’t want to hear this, Fer, but the next time that happens, maybe you could try being more diplomatic.” The harpy glared nastily.
“Look, you’re pretty ignorant about all this, so I’ll forget you said that. But just you remember, Dr. Miracle: not everyone responds to diplomacy. In fact, that only pisses them off even more! They come in and attack me like I’m some kind of abomination from Hell, even if I just try to talk my way out of it! No, that’s not the way I’m doing things anymore. The only things people respond to is a sharp tongue and brute force! You’re better off without them.”
“Are you suggesting I spend the rest of my life trapped here with you?” she said slyly.
“Not trapped. I came here on a ship, just like you. I just decided to have a look around, so I got out and flew. That’s when I saw your message.”
“Do you think you could give me a ride on your ship? I really have to find my friends, and I want to make sure the Dauntless is safe.” Ferrara gave her a nasty expression, which seemed to be a trademark of hers.
“Are you saying you want to run around with those people? I’ll admit, my life isn’t pleasant by a long shot, and if you’re not tough, you’ll fall behind! But it’s gotta be better than hangin’ around with those assholes!”
“I told you that assumptions like that aren’t fair,” Amy said firmly. “It’s so easy to judge a people or a species based on the actions of a few, but you shouldn’t do that. You say I’m ignorant, but what about you?”
“Okay, okay, I’m sorry!” she exclaimed wildly. “I take it back, all right? It’s just…some of those people pulled all the wrong strings when I saw them.”
“Give them another chance,” she said softly. “Try and be nicer to them. If they could see the kind of person you are now, I know they’ll come around. Of course, we’d have to find them first!”
“You really do like being around them, don’t you?” Ferrara studied Amy with quiet awe, and attempted to smile. She was a strange woman, for sure, but she had a big heart, a lot of courage, and a bundle of patience stronger than nine cords of steel tied together. Nobody had ever weathered Ferrara’s storms before, at least not for this long. She decided to drop her guard a little, and relaxed her shoulders.
“I guess I’ll help you out, then. If it’s really that important to you…”
“I appreciate that,” she whispered, smiling so beautifully. Ferrara blushed and looked away.
“But don’t get the wrong idea! I’m not going anywhere near those so-called friends of yours! They’ll just think I kidnapped you!”
“I’m sure I could talk to them,” she attempted. Ferrara relaxed her tensions again and smiled feebly.
“You’re a very sweet woman, Amy, and I feel like I could trust you. You’ve treated me better than anyone I’ve ever met, and for that, I’m thankful. I just…don’t think I could trust any of them. Besides, I’m sort of in a hurry. I came here to find a treasure, and I don’t intend on leaving until I get it.” She laughed sourly and added, “Odds are, they’ll come after it as soon as I find it!”
“Then we should look for that first,” Amy suggested cheerfully. “If we find it and your, uh, unlucky streak continues, I’ll have found my friends! If they don’t come, then at least you can carry on without interruptions. Sound like a good plan?” Ferrara grinned and admitted it was a unique idea, but there was just one small problem:
“It’s a long way away, and the only way to reach it would be by flight.”
“I’m not too heavy!” Amy exclaimed as she stood up, grimacing lightly as she put weight on her foot. Ferrara asked her what was wrong, and knelt down to examine the bloody limb—perhaps the first time in years she showed compassion to another being. Being an adventurer, she was
always prepared for instances such as this, and wound a bandage around Amy’s foot that was guaranteed to survive the harsh environment. Amy smiled warmly as her amateur nurse stood up again.
“You’re very kind.”
“Uh…don’t mention it. So you were saying?”
“I was saying that perhaps you could carry me. I think it would be a great way of starting our friendship.” Ferrara stood aghast at this woman’s quiet tenacity: she had clearly underestimated her.
“Are you planning on following me no matter what I say?”
“I can’t survive for long on my own,” Amy admitted, “and it does sound like the best way to find my friends.” Ferrara sighed in defeat—even though her eyes were twinkling—and bent down so Amy could climb on her back.
“Oof! You were saying something about not being heavy?”
“Oh, quit complaining; you’re stronger than that!” Ferrara glowed warmly and carefully took off into the air. Soon her burden was forgotten as the wind picked up and they passed through wild blue skies together, on and up into the clouds.
The flight over the vast, lonely wilderness was incomparable to anything Amy had experienced; it wasn’t like riding in a jet, a helicopter, or even a hang-glider. The best way to describe it would be to consider what it was like to mount Pegasus. A creature that magnificent would be insulted if you saddled it, so you would have to ride bareback, relying on your knees and arms to hang on. Pegasus can fly, so the danger of falling off is heightened, but so is the thrill of soaring through the air. The land seems closer and more personal than if you were in a vehicle; you can spot things you never would’ve seen, such as the details of a river, or a herd of zebra galloping over the veldt, or trees clustered in wild patterns, standing guard before imposing mountains, some peaks climbing so tall that you could nearly reach them. This is what Amy saw and felt as she clung tight to Ferrara; the world was bombastic with marvels, and it made her silent. She didn’t speak until she sighted their destination, a gargantuan ziggurat boldly conspicuous in the wild, a structure ancient beyond reckoning. Doubtless there was something magic about it.
“In there!” Ferrara shouted. Amy’s eyes were annoyed with tears; they poured out in response to the rushing wind, but she didn’t want to cover them and miss the beauty unfolding beneath her (she also didn’t want to overlook the possibility that her friends might be down there, experimenting with their own rescue signals).
“Do you know anything about this world?” she yelled. She had to repeat herself before she got her answer:
“I’ll tell you once we land. We’ll rest before heading out.” Amy understood, and waited patiently, her hair dancing like autumn leaves drifting in a gale.
……
Ferrara fell on her hands and knees as Amy climbed down from her back; her entire body shivered from overexertion, and her breath came harsh and heavy. As light as Amy claimed she was, she had remained a burden for the better part of an hour, and not even the most powerful people can bear a weight without rest. She approached the weakened woman and gently began to massage her, caressing weary muscles and soothing aching joints. Chandra was best suited for this task--even Fuuka could’ve done a better job--but Amy was the only person around. As amateurish as she was, her touch was loving and soft, and soon the harpy was relaxing comfortably. To pass the time, she kept her word and informed Miracle about the planet they were visiting.
It had obviously gone unnoticed by the rest of the galaxy, partly because it was greatly removed from all known hyper drive lanes, and partly because what little information there was about the world was very cryptic and foreboding. According to the reports Ferrara studied, no trace of civilization, or even intelligent life, had ever sullied the nameless planet (which she humbly dubbed Wynhmn). The ziggurat they were sheltering in was briefly cited in those obscure reports; it was apparently the craft of a creature higher than any beast, yet lacking the spark of conscience that was so prevalent amongst sentient beings. Ferrara honestly couldn’t say if this entity still existed, or if it had progeny, or if there were other monuments to its presence; she was mostly concerned with the treasure it had left behind.
“What it all boils down to is that it’s a jewel, cut from an ore that has long since been extinct, so it’s literally one of a kind. It’s been said that this jewel can communicate with the dead, and can even summon them to perform your bidding.”
“Sounds like something out of Gulliver’s Travels,” Amy murmured. She explained that in that book, there had been a king who had the power to summon a spirit for a whole day, so that he might interview them and seek their advice. Ferrara nodded stiffly.
“Yeah, something like that. Anyway, that’s the extent of my knowledge, and I had to piss off a lot of people and do some pretty nasty things to get all that. Of course, it would’ve been easier if I had the Tome of Treasures in my possession…”
“We have that!” Amy blurted. Ferrara’s eyes flared open, and she tackled Amy in spite of her sore muscles.
“You’re shitting me! You mean you people were the ones that stole it from Bibliopolis?! No wonder I kept running into you in those out-of-the-way places!”
“Umm, it’s not what you think!” she squealed helplessly. “We’re only borrowing it for awhile.”
“Right!” she purred devilishly. “You’re just borrowing it. Okay, I believe you. You seem like an honest person! I wish I had known all that before--well, maybe not,” she corrected. “If I had known you people had the Tome, I really would’ve been your enemy! Ha, talk about hypocritical! Anyway, I don’t suppose you read about the Einherjaria Jewel?”
“Sorry,” she squeaked. “It’s a really comprehensive book. I barely skimmed through it.”
“So you don’t care about it?! Amy, that book is priceless! It can make you richer than the Norgrim Vicegerent--hell, the whole freakin’ population!”
“I’m not interested in amassing useless wealth,” she answered honestly. “I’m just happy for the experiences and the company…although I did see a few items that looked interesting!”
“There, see?” Ferrara grinned, giving Amy a gentle shove. “You’ve got an avaricious streak in ya! Here, help me stand.”
“Can you walk?” Ferrara was amazingly easy to lift up, even lighter than Amy herself. This wasn’t surprising considering her genetic ancestry: one of the reasons birds and their kin are able to stay aloft is their hollow bones.
“I don’t feel 100, if that’s what you mean,” she groaned, “but I’m feeling better than expected. You really did a number on me both ways, Dr. Miracle!” Amy giggled bashfully as Ferrara’s boisterous laughter echoed through the hollow monument; the ziggurat was almost completely void of decoration, so gnawingly empty that no shadows could be seen. But what a sight the two of them would’ve been if anybody was watching! Neither one of them were suited to travel very far--Amy had her bad foot and Ferrara was still recovering from her flight--and so they took frequent rests, encouraging one another and grinning at their own pathetic struggles. Ferrara’s curiosity got the better of her, and she asked about Amy’s foot--but her response was different this time.
“Have you ever heard of stigmata? When I was first inflicted with this ailment, several people had the opinion that it was a sign of God. If that were true, however my wrists and forehead would be bleeding as well.”
“How so?”
“Stigmata echoes the wounds inflicted upon Christ as He was crucified. Nails were driven through His wrists and feet, and a crown of thorns was forced on His head. You used to hear about many instances of stigmata, and they sometimes coincided with sightings of the Virgin Mary, or other religious figureheads, like saints. I don’t personally believe that this is the same thing, but it’s an interesting theory. It’ actually funny to think about, since I haven’t set foot inside a church since I was a little girl.”
“I don’t understand religions,” Ferrara grunted lazily. “I mean, I know why people hold them in such high regard, but isn’t it better to just keep your mind focused on the real world? If you get something out of it, or if it helps make the universe a better place, all the more power to ya. I just think it’s silly how some people can get so immersed in it; it’s like they’re voluntarily being brainwashed.”
“Does your species have any religion?”
“Sure, but I never got involved in any of em’. I might convert if this gem turns out to be the genuine article, though! Let’s keep going!”
“Are you sure?” Ferrara glowed with warmth and purity, reflecting the light that Amy had shed before--the love that she kept from her faith even if her attendance had slackened.
“You’re a lot worse off than me! All I have are worn-out muscles; you’ve got a bleeding foot and those asinine friends! I never thought I’d say this, but you are one tough fucker!”
“Thanks,” Amy grinned sheepishly. “I’m, uh, flattered you think so.”
……
Because the ziggurat was so empty, finding Ferrara’s treasure was a simple matter; it was getting there that provided a problem. After creeping down a long, dark, narrow hallway, the two women had to ascend a spiraling staircase, where each step was cloven in irregular patterns: some slanted diagonally, others were carved like lozenges, and some had to be scaled like footholds of a mountain. When this obstacle (and about thirty minutes of puffing and sweating) passed them, the women had to sidle through an even skinnier hallway, then they had to descend--carefully--down a series of ladders and rope bridges, where they finally came to rest on a ledge that overlooked a deep canyon. Amy dropped a stone down the pit and waited for it to hit bottom, but they were so far from the surface that not even its echo could be heard.
“I think you can manage from here!” she said with a watery smile. Across the ravine--too far even for Athena to jump--was the titular treasure, which stood out as its perfectly circular jewel glowed a ghostly golden-white. Ferrara smiled gently and told Amy she’d be right back; Miracle was quite content to act as an observer. After everything they went through, it felt like cheating to acquire something so easily, but neither of them were about to question their good fortune.
As expected, getting out was much easier than getting in, but since Amy’s food supply was almost gone, they couldn’t dawdle. Rushing out hastily, they met a dim twilight sky: they had spent the entire day together, growing from enemies into friends. Ferrara ferried Amy to the surface and found a nice spot to rest in; she also flew up to harvest whatever fruit she could find in the nearby trees. Amy felt a little guilty for slowing the other woman down, especially since
she had been completely useless Inside the ziggurat, but Ferrara assured the older woman that her presence had been very welcome--even essential--more like an anchor than a burden.
“You were right, you know,” she said as they split a melon. “I did need a friend. It’s been too long since I’ve been able to trust anyone. How’s your foot?”
“Aggravating as always,” she replied sweetly. “What about you?”
“Strong as ever! But I’m very tired, too. We should probably rest until tomorrow. Goodness knows we’ve earned it.”
“Yes. Goodnight, then, and thanks for putting up with me.”
“I could say the same thing,” she grinned. Amy was already drifting off, and soon she was enveloped by the soft caress of slumber. Ferrara gazed longingly at her mousy face, her tangled brunette hair, her shabby clothes, and her cracked glasses, and felt overwhelming love for this creature. Lightly, she kissed her forehead, cast her feathery arm over her like a blanket, and slept alongside her.
Preview of next chapter
Amy: Wait a minute! Am I going to have to do the previews all by myself?! That isn’t fair! I don’t have anyone to play off! Where’s Rachel? Since all this is her fault, the least she can do is be here for me when I need her! sigh I hope I find the others soon. I’m very lonely…and worried… But I can beat this! Yes!! I’ll keep my head lifted high and my eyes glued to the horizon! In the meantime, let’s see if I can guess what the next chapter’s going to be about! For that matter, just how long can we milk this “everyone is lost and must survive in the wild” shtick? You’d think it would be getting stale eventually! Oh well, at least it’s good character development. Please stay tuned for the next chapter, “Campfire: four stories are told”, and hopefully I’ll get some company! Now where’d that dratted genie run off to…?
Ferrara: Hey, what am I, invisible?
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