In the Bone Forest
Helga’s small party followed the sand ridge for several days. Gradually, the terrain began to change. The watery marshes and wetlands of the Drownlands gave way to firmer ground and drier country. With each step they left the Drownlands further behind and the land became sun-baked and harsh.
The rugged land became more and more difficult to travel. When not strewn with rocks, hillsides were slippery with sand. Finding it too exhausting to climb the forbidding bluffs or sandy slopes, the tiny band followed an easier, but somewhat longer route along the lower, more level ground.
The lush marshes of the Drownlands gave way to bare, yellow-brown sandstone as far as the eye could see. Except for scattered patches of dry grass, there was no vegetation. With each step they took, there was less evidence of water. The provisions they had carried with them would soon be gone. Especially, their dwindling water supply was of great concern.
Ominously, they came upon what appeared to be the remains of one of King Stuppy’s exploring parties. Strung out across the treeless waste, one by one, they came upon the skeletons of the King’s explorers sent to look for the Mountain That Moves But Stands Still.
“Look at these fools!” Bwellina commented as they walked past the gruesome remains. “They died rather than leave their banners, golden ensigns, uniforms, and weapons behind.”
“It’s true,” Helga replied. “Although they were dying of thirst, they never discarded their heavy uniforms and still carried along their useless paraphernalia!”
“And still dragging their canoe!” Burwell observed, shaking his head in disbelief. “Miles and miles from water, dropping dead one by one, yet even to the last beast, carrying King Stuppy’s golden ensign...” Burwell’s voice trailed off as he stood looking down at the eerie remains. “This poor beast staggered a few more steps beyond the last of his comrades, clutching the heavy gold, and then collapsed with it wrapped in his arms. Poor fool—”
“There, but for the blessing of the Ancient Ones, go we,” Helga replied grimly. “We may well be fools in other ways. Just because we avoid one road to folly, does not mean we will not take another. If we do not find water soon, we will perish just as surely.”
“Well, the Ancient Ones are all about us,” Bwellina exclaimed, pointing ahead. “It is no wonder they call this the Bone Forest!”
Massive bones poked out at all angles from eroded hills and bluffs. An ancient graveyard of giant beasts was being revealed by the erosion of centuries.
“The Bone Forest!” Helga breathed, feeling for the first time real hope that perhaps she could find her father. The astonishing sight of ancient fossils, and the recent reminder of how deadly this land could be, left Burwell and Bwellina in solemn silence. It seemed hard to be hopeful. But Helga’s heart was truly happy for the first time in many months. Had her father been here? Had he gazed at this landscape she was now seeing? Would she find clues here that would help her find him? Somehow, she sensed she was on his track.
Helga’s band of stalwart friends trudged onward, moving deeper into the Bone Forest. Burwell lagged behind, awe-struck by the fossilized bones. He began climbing up an eroded hillside.
“Burwell!” Bwellina called. “Where in the name of good beasts are you going?”
“This is the land I have always dreamed about,” Burwell yelled back, excitedly. “Since I was a wee beast, sittin’ on my Mama’s lap, I’ve been hearing stories of the Ancient Ones, the greatest beasts that ever lived, the giants of old! Here they are! All around us! I want to pay my respects. I want to imagine what it was like when they ruled the earth! I want to sit a while among them. Just a little while, my dear...Just a little while on the hill taking it all in. Yep! Yep! Yep!” Burwell kept climbing.
Helga looked at Bwellina and sighed. “Well, I guess we could sit a spell and rest,” she mused.
“But, Helga,” Bwellina protested, “every second we sit, I become thirstier, and my life ebbs away. If we don’t keep moving, we have no hope of finding water. We’ll sit here and become dusty bones ourselves! We’ve got to keep moving.” She called after Burwell again. “Burwell! Now you come back here. You can look at the Ancient Ones anytime you want—just as soon as we find water! Get back here, you sun-silly scalawag!”
“No, my dear,” the old dog wheezed back, as he continued his scramble up the hillside. “I’ll not just walk by the remains of the Ancient Ones without remembering them with due respect. I’ve waited my whole life for this chance, which I never thought I’d get. I’d rather die of thirst than move on just now! Yep! Yep! Yep!”
“Let’s do wait a bit,” Helga said to Bwellina. A few minutes cannot hurt us that much...and Burwell is right. I have so often called on the memory of the Ancient Ones to help me...I want to do what is proper.” She stopped and reached for the water pouch slung over her shoulder. “Here, Bwellina, wash your mouth out with a sip of water...Just a small sip, we have to make it last as long as we can.”
Taking a sip for herself, Helga swished it around in her parched mouth, savoring it. Slumping down by a boulder, which provided some shade, she gazed across the expanse of the Bone Forest. She felt an overpowering sense of gratitude. “Oh, thank you, Ancient Ones, thank you,” she breathed. Helga’s reliance on the help of the Ancient Ones had never failed her. Surely, somehow they would assist her.