The Beyond Read Online Free PDF Page A

noon, a storm suddenly swept down from the north. At first, he hoped the weather might pass, and he kept going since he had not killed anything. The sun receded, the storm grew in intensity, and he finally realized he would have to turn back empty-handed.
    Hours flew by before he reached the edge of the pond. In order to save time, he decided to cross it. Somewhere in the middle of that frozen tract, the snow began to drive down so fiercely that he couldn’t see more than a few feet in front of him. He pushed on, never knowing if he had left the pond or where he was in relation to the cave. Like a sleepwalker, he lurched along without direction, and as the snow drifted upon the drifts that had already begun to harden, walking became difficult. Fear mounted in his mind, and all he could picture was the frozen corpse of the cinnamon cat, whose pelt he wore on his back. The sky grew dark with night as he inched along, unknowingly turning in wide circles.
    Thoughts became clouds as dreams and memories flew together and then melted into snow. The wind insisted that he lie down and rest. “You are tired,” it said, “and the white bed is soft and warm.” Above the howl of the gale, he heard the distant sound of a dog barking, and it frightened him, because he knew the phantom noise meant the approach of death. “You must continue,” he told himself, but the wind was right. He was tired, and the snow at his feet appeared a pure white comforter in which he might wrap himself. The bow fell from his hand, and he dropped to his knees in a deep drift that held him upright in that position.
    Death came for him, blowing down from the north—a swirling swarm of darkness mixing in with the falling snow. He saw it in his mind’s eye, he heard its soothing voice above the roar of the storm. It gathered itself up before him where he knelt, becoming a statue for the Beyond. The ice on his eyelashes cracked as he opened them to see the hunter whose prey he had become.
    Wood bounded forward and rammed Cley in the chest, knocking him onto his back. The dog licked his face, thawing the ice jam of his confusion. The hunter grabbed his bow and found the strength to stand. Whistling weakly, he called, “Come, boy,” but the dog was already in the lead, showing him the way to safety. The faster they traveled, the more body heat he generated, reviving the circulation to those extremities that had begun to go numb. The relentless sting in his hands and feet was a welcome sign.
    No sooner, it seemed, had they begun their journey home than the wind eased and the snow diminished to the lightest flurry. Before long, the moon glared down, offering light by which to mark their way. Wood stopped for a moment in a clearing in order for Cley to rest. The Beyond was hushed with that certain calm that follows the rage of blizzards. The trees were fringed with white, and the drifts were wind-curled at their tops like ocean waves.
    As they were about to push on, Cley saw something moving among the trees to his right. The figure was large and shadowy, and the only thing that gave an indication as to what it might be was the reflection of moonlight off the bone white of its antlers. “Could this be the beast I was tracking all day?” he wondered as he let his mittens drop and reached for an arrow.
    His hands still had little feeling, but the bow was so familiar that he was able to place the arrow. Wood noticed what he was doing and immediately crouched in the snow. Pulling the bowstring back was difficult, and his arm shook with the exertion. The thing in the woods blew a gust of air from its nostrils, and judging from where that cloud of steam gathered in the glow from above, he figured the distance to the chest, aimed, and released. A deep, rasping squeal cut the stillness of the night.
    Wood was off like a shot, circling in among the trees to drive the creature out so that Cley could get off another shot. An enormous