I watched the bunny-peckers’ flight across the pinkish sky that so closely matched their colouring. My heart lurched at the natural beauty of the small forest creatures. The freedom in their flight. It made me want to follow them.
“I won’t get lost,” I said softly.
Both Suvi and Min-Ji were looking at me with what I knew was concern behind their goggles and neck warmers.
“Come on, guys,” I said, simultaneously grateful to have friends looking out for me but also a little annoyed they thought I’d get lost on such a straight path. I may have been an absolute shit show at carving crystal off the trees, but I wasn’t stupid. Not many stupid people could earn a tenured position teaching astrophysics by the age of twenty-nine.
“The snow’s deepest here,” I reminded them. “Once I’m up the hill it’s a straight shot to the ship. I’ll be able to see the ship from the top.”
It was true. The walk was long, but once I got out of the well of this part of the forest, the snow wouldn’t be as deep. Here, the snow drifted around the base of the trees, but it was shallower up the hill behind us and beyond. I was used to snow, to cold winters, from back home. I’d hike and go snowshoeing or cross-country skiing with my dad whenever I visited him in the winter.
“Then get going, Hayes. I’ll radio the ship and let them know you’re coming. They’ll be expecting you, so no stupid shit.” Major Corey stepped closer, leaning in so close to my face that I would have felt his breath crawling over my skin if not for our neck warmers. “Straight to the ship, you hear me? Do not make me come track you down.”
“Roger that,” I replied, my tone more biting than I usually dared. I just barely stopped myself from giving him a sarcastic salute. That, or flipping him the bird. Something told me neither gesture would be appreciated.
“See you guys soon,” I called over my shoulder to Min-Ji and Suvi as I turned away from them. I ploughed forward, slowed by the snow but not letting myself falter. My heart pounded with the exertion, the pulse of it throbbing in my wrist. My neck warmer was hot and wet against my mouth as I panted. I wanted to rip the fabric away from my face, but I knew that meant the moisture on the fabric would freeze and it would be like scraping frozen concrete against my skin.
After a few minutes, I stopped and looked back. The others were out of sight now, blocked by the huge, crystalline cones of this alien forest’s trees. I knew I hadn’t gotten too far yet, but by now I could barely hear the tapping of Min-Ji and Suvi’s hammers. The snow swallowed the sound, making the air into cold, quiet velvet.
I faced forward once more, starting my ascent up the huge, broad hill that led out of the forest. I wasn’t exactly sure what I was doing or where I was going – I definitely wasn’t going back to the ship. I needed to be alone for a bit, and that did not involve heading straight for the soldiers who’d abducted me in the first place. I swore, the pain in my wrist flaring, as I remembered that night. Barely keeping it together after Dad’s funeral. Stepping up to his door but never getting it open before the pain and the needle and the dark.
When I’d woken with the other women on the ship, it was too late. Too late to go back. Too late to hope that someone would rescue us like a goddamn movie.
I thought of the fate of the women on the sand planet and wanted to punch something.
It could be worse, I reminded myself darkly.
It became a mantra as my boots drove through the snow.
It could be worse. It could be worse.
But saying, “It could be worse,” only got you so far when you were desperate for things, for people, to be better.
I was so overwhelmed with hatred and grief that it stopped me dead in my tracks as I crested the hill. My lungs burned, my breath heaving. I squeezed my eyes shut, but luckily, there was no sign of tears now. The anger inside me became hot and rocky, like an ember. My eyes were dry when I opened them again.
This hill really was huge. It tumbled downward, another hill of similar size rising up across from it, creating a flat, snowy valley between them. In that valley rested the dome of the ship that had brought us here. Recent snowfall had turned it into a small white hill of its own.
Looking at the ship made bile rise in my throat. I almost wanted to laugh at the bitter absurdity of the situation. I was an astrophysicist. I’d dedicated my life to space and the stars, dreaming of what it would be like to travel among them, not even knowing the technology already existed, the possibility all too real.
My wish had come true in a dark and twisted way. I’d left Earth and travelled light years...
And all I wanted to do was go home.
If I squinted in my goggles, if I ignored the slightly pink tint to the sky here, I could almost pretend this was Ontario in winter. The sun this planet orbited gave off more red light than we were used to back home, which caused the pinkish hue in the sky. But otherwise, despite the odd animals and the crystal trees, this planet shared quite a few commonalities with Earth. It had a breathable atmosphere, and I’d studied enough data by now to know that it had distinct seasons. If I really let my gaze go hazy, the crystal cones that dotted the valley and hill beyond could have almost passed for towering spruce trees. Spruce trees that came in shades of pink, purple, and silver as well as green.
Other civilian women, escorted by soldiers, were in the valley, too, analyzing the trees closer to the ship. I was far enough away that I couldn’t hear any of their activities. And unless one of them looked at a life sign scanner and saw my little dot up here, they probably wouldn’t notice me.
I’ll have to get back soon...
I rubbed my wrist through the puff of my parka’s sleeve, deciding what to do. I already knew I wasn’t going down into the valley or to the ship. But I definitely wasn’t ready to get back to Major Corey, either.
I settled on walking a little further along the ridge of the hill before turning and clomping back down into a new patch of forest. There was no wind today, and it wasn’t snowing. I’d be able to follow my footsteps back pretty easily, so I wasn’t too worried about getting lost. The pale pink sky was clear, the alien sun shattering into infinite spangles along the glittering ground and the shimmering trees. In another lifetime, I would have called it beautiful.
A beautiful prison.
In that moment, my prison became my sanctuary. The hushed, sunlit forest on this strange and foreign world welcomed me, sheltered me, let me escape, just for a few precious moments. The push and pull of the sensation left me breathless. I was trapped here, in this place. This forest. This winter. This world.
And even so, even shackled to its hard trees and sinking in its snow, I begged it for solace.
I reached the bottom of the hill I’d climbed up before and collapsed onto my ass. My stiff snowpants made a crinkly sound, muffled by the snow I smooshed on the way down. My quads were on fire after the hike, my chest tight. With a sigh that felt like surrender, I arched back until I was lying on the ground.
My limbs akimbo, I stared up at the clear pink sky. Even though it was afternoon, the colour reminded me of dawn. A tired laugh bubbled up in my throat when I realized I was in the perfect position to make a snow angel. Not that I had the energy for it. Now that I’d flopped down here, I wasn’t sure I’d ever get back up again.
But something revolted in me at that. Something hard and urgent. Something that told me to fuck the exhaustion, fuck the grief, and make the snow angel anyway. Suddenly, I couldn’t get the idea out of my head. The idea that I’d leave something of myself, my childhood, my life, out here in this hidden stretch of snow. A secret human angel left by a trapped interloper – half rebellion, half apology. It wouldn’t be an indelible mark. Fresh snow and wind would wipe it all away. But I would know it was there. And maybe the forest would, too.