Changes; Skin to Wood to Water to Become

Hunger tore at him now.

He had slept – had deeply core-rested – for a long time. Time enough to dream of a dark tunnel that was pulling him down to what Old Carl had called the caves of screams where vicious god-beasts ripped flesh from the bleached bones of cowards.

He’d awakened just as he was taken up and out of the pit of dreams by a giant hand – again, the hand of Odin? – and was instantly so hungry, he put two pebbles in his mouth to give his tongue something to do, then had to keep his throat from swallowing them to get something in his cavernous stomach.

The spear was gone but he found a stand of willows and made a new shaft. He had no steel point – the only one he had vanished with the fish spear in the whirlpool – but he had seen Old Carl fashion a spear from wood.

He cut the shaft longer than Old Carl was tall, peeled the bark and let it dry in the sun. When it was no longer sap-slick, he used his knife to split the large end partway down, jammed a piece of wood into the split to make a fork with the two tines about a hand’s width apart.

With the size where he wanted it to be he used cord to lash the cross-stick in place, which made the tines rigid. Then he carefully sharpened each of the points with his knife until they would draw blood if he pushed his finger against them.

And he had a fish spear again.

He made his way out into the gravel beds where he could see fish moving and stood, waiting, until they had accepted him as a new part of the water.

At last one came in range and he jammed the spear down, felt it hit solid meat and thought he had a fish. Had food.

But the wooden points were not barbed and when he tried to lift the salmon from the stream it slipped off the spear and escaped.

He shook his head. Had to be a new way. The points were scuffed a bit from hitting gravel beneath the fish and he sharpened them with his knife and went back to the water.

More waiting. The violent wriggling of the salmon he speared had made other fish move away and it took time for them to come back, and in those still moments he realized that there was silence.

It wasn’t that there had been wild noise before but there had been the constant cawing of crows, gurgling of ravens, and chatter of other birds.

But now it was silent.

Suddenly dead, cold silent.

All he heard was the rippling of water around his legs, and he turned and let his eyes move in a circle around the line of trees and water.

Nothing was there.