As the first light of dawn stretched across the rugged peaks of Sky Edge, a small, nimble creature with sharp claws and a bushy tail darted across the jagged rocks. Lena, a slight figure wearing a big floppy hat, followed close behind, her movements fluid and graceful from years of living on the mountain, together, they climbed higher into the cragged terrain. They were headed for a rocky landing where a favorite trail for raiders looking to loot her family farm emerged. Nutmeg, the squirrel, reached the landing first, eagerly sniffing at a mushroom as large as he was. Lena always brought her beloved pet along on these excursions, relying on its sharp ears to provide an early warning against potential danger. As she watched Nutmeg’s playful gait and large tail, Lena briefly forgot the harsh realities of her mountain farm life.
Lena settled into a prone position, her gaze fixed on the barely visible path that snaked through the rocky terrain. She removed her unusual backpack, a sophisticated construction of metal and propellers that could only be described as an origami-like creation, and tucked it securely into a crevice in the rocks. With her backpack safely hidden, Lena turned her attention to Nutmeg, who was now happily munching on the mushroom. Despite the potential danger that may lie ahead, the squirrel seemed blissfully unaware. Lena took a deep breath of the crisp mountain air as she unshouldered her well-worn rifle and scanned the surrounding landscape for any signs of trouble.
It wasn’t long before Nutmeg finished his meal and alertly pricked up his ears toward the trail. Lena held her breath, straining to listen for any potential danger, but her human ears couldn’t pick up anything beyond the gentle rustle of the wind. Nutmeg peered down the trail once more before bounding over to Lena and climbing onto the leather shoulder pad her mother had made especially for her pet squirrels. Lena’s mother had repeatedly reminded her to wear the perch to prevent damage to her shirts, as too many of them had been ruined by her pet squirrels sharp claws leaving puncture holes and tears. Together, they waited in mutual silence, keenly attuned to their surroundings as Lena’s trained eyes scanned the rugged terrain for any potential threats.
The subtle sound of a stone tumbling down the trail confirmed Nutmeg had heard something. Lena’s heart skipped a beat as a set of antlers with a few twists emerged from behind the rocks. She tensed, watching as the rest of the creature appeared. It was a young Cloudjumper, as evidenced by its small antlers, each with just a few bends. Gills on its neck, reminiscent of a fish, moved in waves as it sniffed the thin mountain air. Lena held her breath, praying that Nutmeg would remain quiet and still.
The Cloudjumper’s four nostrils twitched as it caught a whiff of the squirrel. Its head swiveled in Nutmeg’s direction, and Lena’s heart sank as the squirrel scurried away, its tiny paws scrabbling on the rocks. The Cloudjumper’s eyes locked on Nutmeg, and it let out a loud, piercing screech.
Nutmeg froze, his tail puffing up like a bottlebrush. The Cloudjumper’s agitated movements caused rocks to tumble down the trail, and Lena scrambled to get out of the way. She watched in horror as the Cloudjumper reared up on its hind legs, its antlers glinting in the sunlight.
In its panic, the Cloudjumper had failed to notice Lena, who was now exposed. Its eyes met hers, and Lena knew that it saw her as a threat. She could see the fear and confusion in the Cloudjumper’s eyes, and she knew that it was only reacting out of instinct.
Lena raised her rifle, her finger poised on the trigger. She took aim, but she hesitated, knowing that she was a crack shot and that she could easily take down the Cloudjumper if she wanted to. But something in her heart told her to hold back. She lowered her rifle and took a step back, watching as the Cloudjumper turned and ran in the opposite direction, its long thin legs propelling it with lightning speed.
Lena knew that she had made the right decision. By letting the Cloudjumper go, she had preserved its life and had shown compassion toward a creature that was only trying to protect itself. She watched as the Cloudjumper disappeared from sight, feeling a sense of relief that the encounter had ended peacefully, as well as it’s presence indicating they were alone on the mountain.
Sky Edge was one of two towering mountain ranges that dominated the horizon, the other being its larger and even more inaccessible twin, Star Crest. Few ventured into the treacherous peaks of Star Crest. Lena’s family was one of the only groups of people who had managed to establish a home in the remote and rocky cliffs of either mountain.
Adjusting her goggles from her wide-brimmed hat to her brown eyes, she twisted a dial on the goggles, adjusting their spectrum band until they hilighted the faint glow that a ripe Anchor Root plant emits, invisible to the naked eye. The plants grew in clusters of five, but only two ripened at a time, and only the ripe bulbs provided the unique healing properties that made the Anchor Root so desired. Lena had discovered the glow accidentally while playing with a pair of her father’s goggles.
Lena spotted the ethereal glow of two ripe plants in a nearby cluster and nimbly made her way across the rocky landscape to them. The Anchor Root only grew on Sky Edge and Star Crest, and then only high up in patches of yellowish-purple moss known as Rootweave. Lena’s family had learned to cultivate the patches of Rootweave, which naturally attracted the Anchor Root seeds. She pulled a sharp trowel from her bandolier and began to carefully dig a circle around the bulb. The Anchor Root fruit was not much bigger than her fist, but each one weighed more than her by quite a bit.
Nutmeg hopped to the ground from his leather perch and explored the nearby hillside, hoping to find more to eat as Lena excavated a wide ring around the Anchor Root bulb, being careful not to damage the delicate fruit. She unfolded her backpack and, with a few twists and taps, assembled it into a hovering platform with six evenly spaced divots, each precisely the size of an Anchor Root bulb. She pulled a mechanical arm from under the platform and positioned the loop at its end near the circular trench she had dug. Gripping the purple bulb in her fingerless gloves, the palms of which were textured to keep it from slipping, Lena used one strong movement to pull it from the ground and deposit it on the loop. Maneuvering the arm over the closest empty divot, she lowered it down and opened the loop, letting the heavy bulb drop into place. The platform bobbed and swayed under the weight, its small propellers whirring to return to level.
“One,” Lena said out loud as she stretched, glancing around for Nutmeg who was nowhere to be seen now that real work was needed. She crouched back down and began digging a large circle around the other ripe Anchor Root bulb.
Lena peered through the disappearing morning mist at her family’s modest home tucked into the side of Sky Edge, more than 5 kilometers away. She sighed, knowing the long day of work that awaited her. But for Lena, it was all worth it. She loved the rugged beauty of the mountain, the thrill of discovery and adventure that it brought, and the satisfaction of providing for her family. She shouldered her backpack, and set out to collect the precious Anchor Root before the sun grew too hot.
“Only 20 more to go,” she thought. Lena’s father had found that leaving a ripe bulb in one of the clusters increased the Anchor Root’s seed generation significantly, her weekly quota was 21, but she liked to gather as many ripe bulbs in one trip as possible. She sighed, wishing the young Cloudjumper had actually been raiders. “At least it’s all downhill.”
