The Ghosts of Heaven Read Online Free PDF Page A

have made no sound,
    cast no shadow, and been careful with their scent,
    there is a stampede.
    The deer run.
    the great uncountable many of them,
    all run, at once.
    He who leads the hunt leaps to his feet,
    and cries out.
    He sees the deer running, terrified,
    bolting away, and he turns to see
    what has caused this chaos,
    and as he turns
    a spear lands in his chest.
    He clutches it as if he needs it,
    and gives a small cry,
    falling to his knees,
    and then to his side,
    where he lies in the grass, panting fast.
    with wide eyes.
    The people who are near him scatter in fear,
    and then the others are on them,
    without warning.
    They have spears, no bows,
    but they do not need them.
    They throw hard and well,
    and the people are taken with barely a sound
    as spears land
    again and again and again,
    thrown hard and well.
    Thrown well, despite the fact
    that the throwers have parts of their fingers missing.
    One of these others leads the rest.
    He has four stumps where his full fingers should be,
    but his aim is true.
    He pulls his spear from a woman on the ground
    and stabs her in the face
    to finish her.

 
    XIX
    From the cave of the black hands,
    down the widening shelf she runs.
    On a turn in the shelf,
    she glances at the water,
    at the plains, and her heart runs loose and free.
    She stops at the sight.
    For with her very good eyes, she can see the people die.
    Horror holds her for a moment,
    and then she knows what she must do.
    She runs.
    To camp, she runs,
    and her guess is a good one,
    for soon, the shelf reaches the forest floor,
    with the lake shore close through the trees,
    and she knows the way back to camp.
    But still she must hurry,
    the way is long, though easier by light.
    She thinks about the dead boy, the dead old man,
    she thinks about the people
    who went across the water,
    and those who stayed at camp.
    It is them that she must warn,
    and sooner than she hoped,
    camp comes toward her through the trees.
    It is empty.
    No one there,
    and then she remembers that they will have gone to find food,
    even the very young,
    even the babies, carried at their mother’s neck.
    She staggers around the smouldering fire.
    Twice she runs,
    in desperation,
    and something is screaming at her from deep inside,
    but still, it will not be heard.
    Should she look?
    Should she wait?
    Should she hunt for them, or wait for their return?
    She stands silently now in the dawn forest.
    Her chest heaves, not from the running,
    but from fear.
    She stares at the soft sandy earth
    beside the fire.
    She stares at it, seeing the end of her stick make its mark.
    She wonders. She begins to dream.
    And then …
    A crack, and a voice.
    A stick breaking on the summer-dried floor,
    and a voice, but not a voice she knows.
    She hides,
    she slips from the camp,
    and choosing an easy tree, she climbs.
    Out of sight.

 
    XX
    They come.
    Not the people.
    The others.
    They come through the trees.
    Not from the lake,
    but along the shore
    and she knows they are more
    of the ones who killed her people on the plains.
    They sound different from her people.
    Before she sees them, they sound different,
    when she sees them, they look different.
    They walk differently. They wear different furs.
    Naked, she clings to her treetop,
    and with horror she waits as two
    stop beneath her tree.
    They smell different,
    and she is clever enough to know that she might smell different to them.
    So she shivers in the high wavering tree,
    as they pour into camp,
    and prowl.
    They touch nothing; they merely look
    silently.
    Holding their spears
    lightly.
    She wonders why they don’t take the food that’s there,
    the furs and the tools.
    And then she knows:
    they want to kill.
    Then, the people return.
    She hears their sound coming through the forest.
    They are singing.
    They are singing the songs of the hunt magic.
    No, she thinks. Do not sing!
    But they sing as they come back to camp,
    and the others have heard them, too.
    They steal away,
    hide in the