Catrin got the tinderbox from her pack and started a fire. "Don't make the fire very large, li'l miss," Benjin warned. "We haven't put anything across the entrance yet, and the light could give us away. The cavern's big enough that it'll take up the smoke before it escapes through that hole up there, but we'll still need to be careful.
"The lake water should be safe to drink," he continued, "but I think it'd be best to boil it first. There's a kettle in one of the bags. After the water is boiled, you can put the kettle in a shallow part of the lake to cool it quickly. Let's fill our flasks too."
Catrin and Strom set about boiling water and getting ingredients together for a stew. She was glad to see Benjin pull recurve bows, strings, and several quivers of arrows from one of the long bags, along with a couple of short fishing poles.
Long before the stew was really done, they decided it had cooked long enough and fell to it. Full stomachs made them sleepy, and they were soon curling up in their bedding, letting Benjin take the first watch.
On trembling legs, Nat approached the ruins of the greatoak grove. Tears filled his eyes as he beheld what had once been a sacred and beautiful place. Now it looked more like a battlefield of epic scale, like a vision of what was yet to come.
Catrin.
This was where she and her friends had come to camp. They were here when the storm struck. She had to be connected to the destruction. This place had been undisturbed for thousands of years, and after only one night in her presence, it was destroyed. The evidence around him only served to strengthen his convictions. He had to do something, but he lacked the resources and connections. There was only one person who could do what needed to be done: Miss Mariss. Only she was powerful enough within the Vestrana to make such a decision.
As he crept back to town, sliding from shadow to shadow, his mind was consumed, trying to find the words to convince Miss Mariss that he was right. It would not be easy, but he had to succeed. To fail again would mean certain disaster.
Chapter 7
With dogma and aspiration, one can spin sand into gold. -Icar the glassmaker
In the late morning, Catrin awoke and saw Benjin looking exhausted. As soon as she stood, he stumbled to his bedding.
"Don't leave the cavern," he mumbled then flopped down heavily and fell asleep.
Catrin used a stick to stir the remnants of the fire, and she added twigs to the glowing coals beneath the ash. She soon had a fire large enough to boil water. Kettle in hand, she approached the lake, and it shimmered in the light breeze, its surface rippling like the scales of a snake. Concentric rings added to the impression of a giant serpent curled around itself. She wondered at its beauty, amazed that something so massive and alluring could lie hidden inside a mountain for ages.
Was something beautiful if no one saw it? Her life had been that of a farm girl, and she hadn't entertained such philosophical thoughts that she could recall, but she had changed lately. Perhaps it was the bizarre events she had experienced recently, or maybe she was growing up; either way, she knew she would never be the same. It occurred to her that she and the rest of the group, with the exception of Benjin, would be growing up fast.
Curiosity gnawed at her, and she decided to wet her feet in the lake, if only to conquer her fear of something grabbing her and pulling her in. She let the water cover her ankles, finding it curious that little sand or mud covered the lake floor. The black stone was smooth and cool under her toes, almost too slick to stand upon. With the kettle filled, she pulled herself away from the mysterious serpent lake. The entire place intrigued her and sent her awareness into motion. So much of the cavern was obscured by darkness; her imagination bridged the gaps with grand images. Some of her mind's creations filled her with an almost irresistible desire to explore; others urged her back to the relative safety of camp.
Walking toward the fire, she looked up at the distant ceiling, which appeared to be a natural stone formation, in contrast to the man-made entrance hall. Stalactites reached inexorably toward the water below. When she looked ahead again, she saw Chase about to walk into her, his head craned upward. He, too, was caught up in the majesty of their hideaway, and a fair amount of water sloshed from her kettle onto his feet when Catrin stopped short to avoid the collision.
"Sorry," she said.
"No problem. I should've seen you coming. It's just that this place is so mystifying. It's not that it scares me or anything, but there's a strange feeling in the air-or something."
"I know what you're saying, and I feel like that too. I like it, and yet it frightens me a bit. Let's just sit by the fire while you dry out."
Strom and Osbourne came over to join them by the remains of the fire, bringing their mixture of nuts and dried fruit and hard, dark bread. As their eyes adjusted to the relative darkness of the cavern, they found they could see quite well despite the low light. Revitalized by the snack, Chase suggested they have a look around, and Osbourne agreed to stand guard.
As they skirted the lake, the walls began to close in, and the rock shoreline tapered to a narrow point, beyond which the water lapped directly against the nearly vertical walls of the dome. They couldn't quite make out the far side of the cavern, but they could make a fair guess at the distance. It was farther than any of them thought they could swim, not that they wanted to swim in that ominous-looking water.
The place had a powerful energy, and the black water brought to mind visions of giant serpents lurking just below the surface, lying in wait for unsuspecting swimmers. They had seen no indication of fish or any other creatures in the lake, but that seemed logical considering the lack of sunlight. They continued on along the shoreline, which was relatively smooth and free of debris.
Along the opposite shoreline, Catrin spotted an irregular shadow against the cavern wall. Moving in for a better look, they found the remains of the raft Benjin and Wendel had made years before. It looked as if they had pulled the raft to shore, stood it up, and propped it against the cavern wall. The logs were crumbling, and the rope had long since deteriorated, falling away when Chase gave it a tug. They left it where it was so Benjin could see it. Perhaps, Catrin thought, it might spark some good memories.
When they returned to camp, Benjin was pulling the kettle from the smoldering coals. He strode to the lake, kettle in hand, and it hissed as he placed it in the cold water. He dropped the handle and hastily pulled his hand away then waved to the returning group with a smile.
"Well, did you find anything exciting?" he asked.
"We found your raft," Chase announced with pleasure. "It definitely needs some new rope to hold it together, but I think it could still float."
"There really isn't much to see from what I recall, but if we find the time, we could lash it back together just for old time's sake," Benjin said then paused a moment before addressing them in a more serious tone. "We may need to stay here far longer than we are prepared for, and we need to get ready so we have food during the winter," he said as he walked over to where he had unpacked the bows and fishing rods.