The Index -|-
Kpleeb sighed and leaned back against a rock. He rubbed his lower back and looked around. To the South he could see nothing but rubble and the occasional dip in the land covered in a tuft of green. He looked over his shoulder and saw the same view and the setting sun. He knew that was where home had been. Being an apprentice rock carver had kept him inside the caves for too long, still, he remembered the cavemanhood training that his da had given him.
Those were good times, long before the land had grown cold. Even in the heat it seemed that it was not as hot as it used to be. Not that Kpleeb was old. He had only been a cave”man” for a short-ish time, many handfuls of moon-cycles at least. Those days were special to him now that his da had fallen into the endless cave.
Kpleeb rustled through his reed-sack and made sure that he could eat when he reached the oasis. Had had eaten nothing since yesterday’s wounded muskrat. Two legs eat first, little brother. He looked up and saw the hazy blue sky in every direction. It was a mix of fuchsia and peach but faded to darker blue at the edges of the sky. It would be beautiful if he were not so stressed, hungry, and terribly exhausted.
What could he do but sit here – sag here really – and…. what – die? The idea was admittedly enticing to him. After all, he wandered for a few moon-cycles. He had stabbed at the muskrats and diapsids. He chased the birds, and even caught one that was lame. He swizzled the waters of the oases and fought off the crocodiles that defended their shallows. If Kenthid had banished him before the start of the great wetening, well… He certainly would have entered the endless as a popsicle. Apparently, he was more hearty than he realized.
The weather was becoming warmer now, but… it would not be a great disturbance to end this suffering, in fact he had already tried to die twice, but could not stop fighting for food and breath. “C’est la vie,” he would say if he spoke French. So Kpleeb sat and looked at the next oasis. Dusk would come in a soon, and there was a green tuft just a few stone’s throw away.
He stood up and groaned at the aches that permeated his back. His heavy reed-sack hoisted slowly. It contained the entirety of his worldly possessions. The nettle branch that Pfftul had given him, his favorite six-sided rock, and a small, somewhat stale muskrat leg. The leg would be his only meal today.
The walk to the oasis was short, and behind him the hazy sun continued its inexorable slide into the horizon. He walked slowly, as was his way. At the edge of the oasis where the sand piled up he stopped to take one last gaze at the land. In the distance he saw what appeared to be a cloud. Featureless, it was an indeterminate size, but it billowed and was darker in the center.
Kpleeb did not know if the storm would come his way, but he felt unlucky and so went into the oasis to find shelter. He drank his fill and then shifted some broad leaves into a makeshift hood under two trees. It would not keep much storm water out, he thought that maybe it would allow him to sleep. As was the custom, he had just dunked his stale muskrat leg in the water when he heard the wind pick up.
The wind had a sort of high-pitched whine to it. It was not like a normal storm in that sense, but the blowing dust and gusty air was entirely normal. He ducked under the leaves just as the sky went dark in a strange way. The evening, filtered through the flying dust and debris was dim, but not black. He could see his own hand, hairy and knobby, one second and the next it was gone. He dropped the muskrat leg and cowered under the leaves.
Kpleeb lay with eyes open staring upward. He saw nothing, but the high-pitched whine continued unabated. Within a handful of moments, a wind buffeted him from all sides and he felt himself lifted as if by the air itself. Leaves brushed his skin, and wind battered him from all angles. He shook with fear and felt the world go black around him.
With the true blackness came silence.
