I'm supposed to tell you a story, it was my own choice. so I'm here writing out some rambles. I want to tell you about a soul I know. she's been with me for many many years. when we met, i was very small, young. our families knew each other and of course we played together.
Months, years went by. we talked and played together nearly daily. we grew together. at times we ended up working together, we did our chores together. Our school classes were the same. we discovered the world together. With all this time passing, naturally we bonded. we cared, and respected each other. we loved each other like brother and sister.
By the time we grew into teenagers, our understanding of each other was profound. Being of reasonable age, and living in a time that allowed us to venture forward into our lives, alone and unguided by parents. We maintained our connection, spending most our time together. We discovered crushes and love interests of our own, we faut and argued over many differences while we grew, but our bond only became stronger.
Now I want to give some perspective on the time line here. the time we spent together was of 15-ish years. from young infants to middle teenagers. I bring this up to help people realize how much of our lives were spent together. Even tho 15 years isn't much time in the grand spec of life. It was enough time to learn and understand the value of life, the pain of loss, hopes and so much more.
while we were young, as a bonded pair we could lean on each other. when the world rained hell down on our families and our parents were wrought with stress, consumed by the pressures of adult hood, unable to tend to their growing childer. we had each other. when the classes became hard, and school bullies unrelenting, we had each other's back.
It became instinct to wake up and call her, or she would already be calling me. fishing? hiking? what would the day bring us.. to the forests out lining the small city we lived in? would we go the the inner city theater's for a showing, Or simply reminding each other of school work due that day. there was nothing in our lives that we did alone, for any reason.
My grand mother, a women over 90 years and hard learned in the old world traditions of paganism. referred to us an old souls bound by antiquity. kinda odd thing to tell two kids, but we took it to heart. It made sense.
Although, we felt an intense love and respect for each other, we did not engage ourselves to the idea of lovers. maybe it was because we were still to young to understand that aspect of life. maybe it was because we didn't feel the need to add more pressure to our own lives together. we were happy to be each other and in each others company.
*****
Summer 1995 june
we had run off into the forest that Friday night. a tent, some food,bottle of jacks finest, a fire starter log and some good books. batteries for our disk man cd player. It was a cold night tho, and the fire did little to warm us. we spent the night telling each other grand tales of adventurers slaying demons and saving town folk.. we told each other mystic poems and pretend prayers of the old ways. it was an amazing night, ending with us acting as though were we those great adventures , settling in for the night. a long rest if you play dnd .. it was corny, but it was just us and we were drunk.
I woke in the morning, dried out, head pounding and a low rumbling purr clicking in my ears.. I was blurred, barely aware of where i was or what time it was. I reached to unzip the tent door, my hand fell forwards and i half rolled out of the tent onto the moist cold dirt covered rocks of the Canadian shield. it seemed I was still drunk. trying to get a hold of my bearings, using a near by tree to pull myself upright, i cleared the haze from my mind and eyes the best i could. i wandered a bit out of the camp to take a piss. my eyes watering so much i couldn't rightly see straight.
After the morning dues, I turned and cleared my eyes again... taking in the camp site properly for the first time. I saw the books we brought tossed about the area, our food scattered around, half torn wrappers and bags. stumbling around slowly picking up our mess?? I slowly became aware to the fact that my friend wasn't in the tent.
A lightening bolt of panic consumed me for a moment, but i pushed it aside thinking she's probably walking it off as well, or using the ladies room... by this point my ears burning with drunken heat alerted me to that guttural purring that seemed to penetrate my body deep into my bones. I paused my clean up and tried to center my mind. it was so hard to concentrate on what i was doing. through the odd purring noise and the lazy wisps of wind and fog lofting around the early morning i heard something.. what was it? i looked around confused.
wait, i thought. where are the morning birds? the forest is deathly quite, save for the random moan of old trees swaying with the wind. i could feel a chill, unnatural, painfully cold building in my gut. scanning around, the drunk haze clearing, my mind step forward form the realm of the inebriated to stone cold sober as made eye contact with a large feline face, mouth slightly a jar, emitting a low guttural purring like growl.
you would think, at that moment i would be blasted with fear and fear was certainly a factor. I wasn't concerned with fear though. i stood frozen, still, solid as a rooted tree. like a high definition speaker, the sound of a women doing everything she can to hold in her own pain for the sake of others sought out my heart.
I could see the trail of glistening blood pooling at the bottom of a slender pine tree. the cat rush forward in a bluff, I stepped into it while reaching for our hatchet. the cat didn't give any ground and neither did I. this wasn't a warning situation, the cat wasn't protecting her young, or territory. this cat was a hunter, hungry and we made camp in her home. this cat was hunting us.
It lunged forward, I jumped to the side, in a circling dance of attack and dodge we moved. it felt like hours, the cat would jump and swat while hissing and roaring. i would do my best to dodge and swing my hatchet. "help" faint, weakening and focus shattering word. glancing up the tree, my friend barely hung on, her limbs showing limp as a seemingly unending trickle of blood made it's way down the trunk of the tree and into the growing pool..
I broke eye contact, the cat pounced, i pushed into the animal with all the rage and fear i could bring forward, swinging that hatchet as hard and as fast as i could. my world went black as the body of the cat engulfed my view, the weight pressed me into the rocky ground, unable to breath. A cracking sound off in the distance, branches giving way to the falling weight of my friend, her body giving a final gasping dull thud on the ground with a sickening smack as the pool of blood gave way.
my pulse pounding in my head. i pushed back and squirmed out from underneath that cat, it hissed and wobbled around, a gaping wound in the side of it's head. stunned and injured it did it's best to run off. i wasn't about it give chase. drawing in my center the best i could, i breathed out, a fear induced scream, louder then anything i could do today.. i rushed to her, carefully inspecting her nearly naked body, the cat had shredded her abdomen, but hadn't actually ripped it open. i cried when I realized what might happen today.. and against my own will, i rose up and began to shred the sleeping bags. tending to her wound as best i could.. tight knots and thick stuffing in the and around the wounds. snapping off branches that had pierced her on the way down, securing them in place. each cut, each hole, each rip in her skin I tended to the best i could. she had lost alot of blood, could be bleeding inside. we have to go.
void of emotion, feeling, or sensation i put together a means to drag her securely out of the forest, there a road not to far from where we were.. surely i could find help. as i dragged her, i kept checking for her heartbeat, her body cold and clammy from the morning mist and sweat of her injuries. At one point, she coughed, i stopped and check on her. she wasn't breathing. i punched her in the chest, just above the diaphragm, little to the right, i heard her sternum crack. her eyes shot open and she gasped for air like a drowning victim. we made eye contact for moment before her eyes rolled. cold and distant, i heard my voice order her to keep fighting.
i don't remember the rest. i woke up in the hospital, 89 stitches and a cracked shoulder blade. my friend survived, and i lived with her for 6 months. not leaving her side until she was home and mostly recovered.
that's it.. for now. there always more.
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