The Myst Reader Read Online Free PDF Page B

dropped, the sight that met his eyes incredible and dreamlike.
    Between the cleft and the lip of the caldera, the whole side of the volcano was carpeted in flowers. Even in the moonlight he could distinguish those bright colors. Violets and blues, dark greens and lavender, bright reds and violent oranges.
    He stared, uncomprehending. It was impossible.
    “They’re called ephemerals,” Anna said, speaking into that perfect silence. “Their seeds—hundreds of thousands of tiny seeds—lay in the dry earth for years. And then, when finally the rains come, they blossom. For a single day—for one single night—they bloom. And then …”
    She sighed. It was the saddest sound Atrus had ever heard. He looked to her, surprised by that sound. There had been such joy in her voice, such excitement.
    “What is it, grandmother?”
    She smiled wistfully then reached out, petting his head. “It’s nothing, Atrus. I was thinking of your grandfather, that’s all. Thinking how much he would have loved this.”
    Atrus jumped down, his feet welcomed by the lush, cool feel of vegetation. The earth beneath was damp and cool. He could squidge it between his toes.
    Crouching, he ran his hands over the tops of the tiny blooms, feeling how soft, how delicate they were, then plucked a single, tiny flower, holding it before his face to study it.
    It had five tiny pink petals and delicate stamen the color of sandstone. He let it fall.
    For a moment he knelt there, his eyes taking it all in. Then, suddenly, a new thought struck him. Jerking around, he looked to Anna.
    “The seeds!”
    Atrus stood and, picking his way carefully about the cleftwall, stooped here and there, examining all those places where, before the storm had come, he had scattered their precious seeds.
    After a while he looked to Anna and laughed. “It worked! The seeds have germinated! Look, Nanna, look!”
    She stood there, grinning back at him. “Then we’d better harvest them, Atrus. Before the sun comes up. Before the desert takes back what it’s given us.”

     
    THE WORK WAS DONE. NOW THERE WAS TIME simply to explore. As the dawn’s light began to cast its long shadows over the sands, Atrus climbed the side of the volcano, Flame in tow, the ginger cat intoxicated, it seemed, by the sudden profusion of flowers. She romped and rolled about as if the years had peeled back and she was a kitten again.
    Watching her, Atrus giggled. He wore his glasses now, the sun-filter set low, the magnification high. Now was the time to indulge his curiosity, before the sun climbed too high and the heat grew too unbearable; and before, as Anna assured him they would, the blooms dried up and vanished.
    For a time he wandered idly, almost as aimless as the tiny, scrawny cat that was his constant companion. Then, without knowing it, he found himself looking for something. Or rather, not so much looking as trying to pinpoint exactly what it was he’d seen but not understood.
    He stood still, turning only his head, trying to locate just what it was he’d glimpsed. At first he saw nothing. Then, with a little start, he saw.
There!
Yes, there in that shallow incline that ran down to one of the volcano’s small, inactive vents!
    Atrus went across and stood over it, nodding to himself. There was no doubt about it, the vegetation here was more lush, the flowers bigger, their leaves thicker and broader.
    And why was that?
    He bent down and, reaching in among the tiny stems, pulled one of the plants up and examined its shallow roots. Earth clung to it. He lifted it and sniffed. There was something strange, something almost metallic about that smell. Minerals. Somehow the presence of minerals—specific minerals?—had helped the plants grow larger here.
    He cleared a tiny space with one hand, then scooped up a handful of the earth and carefully spilled it into one of the pockets of his cloak. Straightening up, he looked back down the slope to where Flame was lying on her back in a patch of