White Eyes (part seven)

Chapter Seven: Ursa

Carla could tell that somebody was blocking her way out because of the person’s rather heavy breathing; they had obviously just run a long way.
“Stop – right – there,” the person gasped. The voice was that of a female. “Stay – there.”
“No,” replied Carla. “Get out of my way.”
Her challenger did not show any signs of wanting to get out of the way, however, so Carla raised her fists, prepared to fight whoever it was.
“I’m warning you,” she said tensely, “if you don’t get out of the way – ’’
“You’ll – do what? Fight me – will you? Growl – at me?”
“What do you want?” snarled Carla, in no mood to be hindered unnecessarily.
“I – want – I want ...”
Carla tried to shove her way impatiently out of the gate, but whoever it was held out a forceful arm and she stumbled.
“Spit it out!” said Carla edgily. “I’m in a hurry.”
Her challenger took a moment to regain her breath, and then said, “I want you to help me.”
“I’m in no position to help anyone right now, sorry – ’’
“You’ll hear me out.”
“Oh, will I?” said Carla, her temper rising. “And what makes you think I’ll do that, exactly?”
“Because if you help me, I can help you in kind.”
Carla hesitated. Who was this, to ask for and offer help?
“Listen,” rushed Carla, “I’m willing to hear what you have to say, and help you if I can, but this really isn’t the moment.”
“Oh, yes it is.”
“Oh, no it isn’t.”
“I can help you.”
“Well, you know, that’s great, and everything, but I really do need to hurry now, so if you’ll excuse me – ’’
“You’re not going anywhere.”
“Oh, really? And who’s going to stop me?”
“I am!”
“Is that right? You and what army?”
Her challenger hesitated, breathing heavily. She then said, in a voice of forced politeness, “Look, I understand that you’re in a hurry, but this really is the only chance I’ll get to speak to you, and you’re the only one who can help – ’’
She stopped talking very suddenly. The reason for this became apparent the moment she did so: the distinct sound of barking came floating through the air towards them, chilling Carla to the bone.
Shoving the arm of her challenger roughly aside, she set off down the narrow street at a flying pace, stopping not for the angry shouts flung at her retreating back, nor for the jeers of the local urchins as she rocketed past them. She did not care about anything at that moment apart from getting as far away from the ground as she could and staying there for a long while, for Carla was mortally afraid of dogs.
It was not until she was safely high up in a sycamore tree, clinging tightly to a branch and breathing heavily, that she started to regain control of her senses and slowly began to realise how stupid she must look. She had only a moment to reflect on this, however, as, less than two seconds later, she realised that she was not alone. Her phenomenally sharp ears picked up a soft, hesitant noise from below her lofty perch – somebody was breathing, and trying to do so quietly. Her bad temper was quickly restored.
“You breathe so loudly, anyone could hear you a mile away. Why are you following me?”
“Why are you up a tree?” The girl who had been blocking her way out of the square was standing below her, looking up. Carla’s sense of foolishness was somewhat heightened at this remark, and she felt her cheeks glow like hot coals.
“What do you want?” she asked irritably, declining to answer that particular query.
“I want to help you.”
“I’d established that,” snapped Carla, trying to look as dignified as possible whilst hanging almost horizontally from her tree branch. Her adversary waited in tactful silence as she struggled to disengage herself from a twig that had latched on to a piece of her clothing.
Finally, when Carla had landed rather heavily beside her, she spoke again.
“I believe you said you would hear me out.”
“Did I?” said Carla distractedly, pulling leaves out of her matted hair. “Well ... I suppose I did, yes. All right, go on, then.”
The girl gave a satisfied smile that Carla could not see, and then, realising this, held out her hand and said, “Thank you very much. My name is Ursa – what’s yours?”
“Carla,” muttered Carla, still smarting from the manner of their second encounter. “And I still don’t really know who you are.”
“I’m just a girl from the town. I’ve been here for a while now. I had never seen you before today, though. Do you live here?”
“Yes,” said Carla.
“And do you often come to sell things at the market?”
“Yes,” said Carla again, wondering when Ursa was going to get to the point.
“And do you usually sell – er – the likes of which you were selling today?”
“No,” said Carla, more than a little defensively.
“Oh,” said Ursa, obviously stumped. “How come I haven’t seen you around before?”
“No idea,” said Carla, distractedly and a little irritably. “Listen, if you’re going to get on with the reason you’re here – ’’
“All right, all right,” said Ursa grumpily. “If you don’t want me to be friendly, I won’t be.”
“I’m sorry,” said Carla, in a tone of forced politeness. “I didn’t mean to be impatient. But I really am in a bit of a hurry, so, would you – could you – please tell me why you want to talk to me?”
Ursa sniffed. “I told you,” she said. “I want you to help me.”
“To do what?”
Ursa examined Carla for a moment, and then said in a rush, “Awannafimmfither.”
“Sorry,” said Carla, “I didn’t quite catch that.”
Ursa took a deep breath and said, more slowly this time, “I want to find my father.”
“Why?” said Carla in surprise. She knew immediately that she had said the wrong thing: Ursa had sunk into a stony silence.
“I’m sorry,” she said again. “It’s just – you know – I don’t exactly have your ideal image of a father, so I don’t really understand ... why you’d ... want to go looking for one ...” She trailed off embarrassedly.
“Oh, that’s fine,” sniffed Ursa. “I just thought you might have more sympathy for me.”
Carla could not believe how difficult their little chat was turning out to be. Deciding that it would be best not to argue, however, she changed topic swiftly.
“So – why did you think I would be the best person to help you find your father?”
“I didn’t,” said Ursa. Carla thought, from the embarrassed tone in which she spoke, that she was blushing. “I just thought – you know – we’re sort of similar, aren’t we? I saw that man speaking to you – horrible, wasn’t he? And then I thought you must be really poor, and possibly an orphan, and that you might have – empathy for me, if that’s the right word. You were just there, so similar to me, and I’d been wanting help from someone for a long time, and I thought – why not you?”
Carla nodded, thinking. Then she decided on a question that she thought was unlikely to set Ursa off again.
“So ...” she said slowly, choosing her words carefully. ‘So ... you want me to – to help you to find your father. Because – because you thought I might be sympathetic towards your aims. But how,” she added, “how can you be sure where he is?”
“I am not sure where he is,” said Ursa. “That’s why I need you to help me find him.”
“But we can’t search the whole country!”
“No, we cannot,” agreed Ursa. “That’s why I’ve been searching for leads, and I am quite sure I’ve found one already.”
“Really?” said Carla, interested in spite of herself.
“Yes. That’s why I came to live here in the first place – because I had reason to believe my father was connected to this place.”
“How did you figure that out?”
“Someone told me,” said Ursa dismissively, waving an airy hand. “But the point is, I have a lead, and I need you to help me act on it.”
“So, what’s the lead?”
“I thought we’d get there in the end. The thing is, I’ve been told that my father lived here for some time. I don’t know why, and I don’t know for how long, but he lived here, and I’ve been trying to find out where exactly he was staying, because that’s the only way I’m going to find someone who knows where he’s gone.”
Carla had spotted a loophole, but she didn’t know how to phrase it without offending Ursa. “But …” she started, “But – how do you know – I mean, obviously, it’s not likely – but, how do you know your father’s not – well – dead?”
“I don’t,” said Ursa, and the two of them fell silent. After a long time, in which Carla began wondering whether Ursa had left in a huff, Ursa spoke again.
“So … will you help me?”
“To find your father?”
“Yes.”
Carla thought for a moment. This seemed an odd request to be making of an entirely new acquaintance … But then, why not? She had nothing better to do …
“All right. I’ll help you to find your father.”
“Will you promise me you’ll help?”
Carla threw the direction of Ursa’s voice a sharp look that could almost have pierced the impenetrable blankness before her eyes. Ursa remained silent.
“Yes,” said Carla, finally. “I promise I’ll help you to find your father.”
Little did she know just how much that promise would mean.

*

That night, Carla slept in the same tree she had taken refuge earlier on in the day. Although she was pretty sure that the dogs had been called back, she was not going to risk fatal mutilation without a good reason. The following morning, she awoke aching all over, her back stiff and her legs scratched. Groaning, she levered herself off her branch and landed with a heavy thud on the leafy floor six feet below. Her legs, on contact with the ground, wobbled and gave way, leaving her sprawled at an awkward angle, her nose pressing into the soft earth.
It was a while before Carla could summon the energy to get up, and when she did, she had to slump against the tree trunk to prevent herself from falling over again. Finally, after several near fatal attempts of her legs to support her body, Carla took a few stumbling steps and lurched forwards, in the direction of the road.
It was a while before her confused legs managed to lead her in the right direction, and when they did, and Carla emerged into the open air at the edge of the path, she realised (noting the pale kind of warmth that touched her cheeks) that the sun was already rising into the bleak yellow sky.
“How long have I slept?” she said out loud in amazement, to nobody in particular, and to her surprise, a voice answered.
“Search me,” it said. “I personally find the bark and twigs extremely uncomfortable.”
“Ursa!” Carla cried angrily, spinning on the spot to face the direction of the voice. “Have you been following me?”
“No,” said Ursa. “I’ve been waiting here all night, making sure you didn’t slip away.”
“And why would I want to do that?”
“Well, I didn’t get the impression that you were particularly keen to help me,” said Ursa, shrugging. “Clearly, I was wrong.”
“That you were,” rejoined Carla. “I had no intention of slipping off, thank you very much.” She set off down the road at a brisk pace, and Ursa fell into step beside her.
“So, when are we going to get started?”
“Wha-?” said Carla. “We haven’t even started planning yet!”
“Better early than never,” said Ursa, shrugging, and Carla had nothing to say to that.
After a while of aimless walking, Ursa spoke again.
“So – where are you going to go?”
“What do you mean?”
“Well … you know, it’s not very likely that your father’s going to want to see your face again any time soon without a good reason,” said Ursa, “and you can’t sleep in that tree forever …”
“What are you trying to say?” said Carla slowly.
“Well, I just thought … you know, if you want somewhere to stay where your father’s dogs aren’t going to be able to find you … why don’t you come and stay with me?”
Carla stopped in her tracks. “What, you have a house?”
“Well, no … not exactly …”
“Are you trying to tell me,” said Carla, starting to laugh, “that you want me to come and live with you, but you don’t actually have anywhere for me to stay?”
“Of course I have somewhere for you to stay!”
“What is it, then, if it’s not a house?”
“I’ll show you,” said Ursa, after a pause. “Come and see.” And she took Carla by the arm, turned on the spot, and began to drag her in the opposite direction.
After a couple of minutes in which she was hauled up hills and down into valleys, through gaps in trees and under bridges, Carla began to wonder whether Ursa was just improvising and didn’t really have anywhere in mind at all. She was just about to voice this suspicion, when Ursa brought her to an abrupt halt, yanking on her arm so that it was nearly pulled out of its socket.
“Ow!” Carla yelled, staggering backwards and nursing her injured arm. “What did you do that for?”
“To stop you from killing yourself,” said Ursa. “Come and see.”
Carla walked slowly back to where Ursa was standing, wondering if she had been about to step on some kind of deadly thistle. As she drew level with Ursa, however, and the latter held out an arm to prevent her from moving forwards, Carla felt a light breeze on her face, and, ducking underneath her companion’s arm, crawled forwards slowly, ignoring Ursa’s cry of warning. Very suddenly, a blast of cold air hit her face like a bullwhip and her hair began to lash across her cheeks. Feeling tentatively in front of her, her fingers found what she had expected they would: the edge of a sheer precipice.
Carla crouched there for a moment, breathing in the air that was curiously devoid of the smell of salt and listening to the roaring of something that sounded like a gargantuan animal, before she called back over her shoulder, “Why on earth have you brought me here?”
Ursa crouched down beside her and yelled to make herself heard.
“This is where I live!”
Carla fought down a wild urge to laugh. “This is a cliff, Ursa! Unless you’re trying to tell me that you can transform into some kind of cave bat – ’’
“Of course I can’t,” snapped Ursa. “If you stop gibbering, I’ll be able to show you where you’ll be sleeping.” And before Carla could do more than utter a cry of alarm, Ursa had disappeared over the edge of the cliff.
“Ursa!”
Her eyes desperately trying to penetrate the nothingness before them, Carla leant over the edge and turned her head this way and that, thinking that just what she needed was for Ursa to fall to her death whilst she, Carla, was with her.
“Don’t do that,” came Ursa’s voice suddenly, nearly sending Carla toppling off the cliff edge, “it’s a rather long way to fall, you know.”
“Where are you?” gasped Carla, with a mixture of anger and relief. “You nearly gave me a seizure!”
“Down here,” replied Ursa. “If you just stretch your hand down the cliff – that’s it – you’ll reach mine – just a little further – there, see?”
Carla grasped her companion’s hand and crouched there, bewildered. “But – what are you holding on to?”
“If you follow me, you’ll see.”
“Are you mad?” shouted Carla through the wind. “I’m – I’m blind! I’ll fall!”
“No, you won’t,” said Ursa. “Just trust me.”
Carla longed to deliver a sharp reply to this, but deciding that this was not the moment, said out loud, “Fine. Just – don’t accidentally lead me in the wrong direction, okay? You see, I’m rather fond of my neck …”
“Just hurry up, will you?”
Carla sighed, felt doubtfully around the edge of the precipice with her free hand, and lowered herself over the edge.
Immediately, she wished she hadn’t. The wind, increased sevenfold since she had stepped over the edge, was buffeting her around like a rag doll, taking strands of her hair and lashing them across her eyes, catching folds of her clothing and tugging at her fingers. Her toes were slipping against the smooth face of the cliff, her fingers scrabbling desperately at the edge, her breath solidifying into ice in her throat. She was sure that she was going to slip, to fall, to die … Her fingers could not hold on any longer … She was falling, falling…
And then her legs met firm ground. Stumbling with the force of the impact, Carla stuck her hands out before her face so as to prevent herself from falling and breaking her nose. It turned out there was no need, however. Arms were hauling her upright, and as Carla began to regain the use of her senses, Ursa spoke.
“So – what do you think?”
Carla mouthed soundlessly. Ursa grinned.
“You were never in any trouble,” she said. “This ledge is quite big, and very secure.”
“I knew that,” said Carla, finding her voice. “Of course I knew that. Of course you wouldn’t have let me fall, what a thought!”
She laughed; a rather higher sound than was customary, and then stopped abruptly. “So, about this ledge … this is where you live?”
“Of course not,” said Ursa, “I’d die of the cold! No, I’ll show you where I live.” Then she walked backwards, straight into the cliff.
As Ursa’s voice called back to her, inviting her to come ‘inside’, Carla thought she must have missed something.
“Er … Ursa, where are you?”
“In here, bright spark. Where else?”
Carla moved forward, absolutely bewildered, and found herself facing the cliff face. “What the –?” and then her fingers found a crevice. Moving slightly to the right, Carla found that it was a very big crevice – in fact, big enough for quite a thin person to slip through. Wondering what the world was coming to, she squeezed herself through the crack and into the cavity beyond.
She could tell immediately that she was in a kind of inner-cliff cave. The sound of the raging windstorm outside was reduced immediately to a soft rumble, and the air suddenly became much warmer, if a little musty. Ursa was remaining quiet, obviously expecting a comment of some sort. Carla decided to oblige.
“Wow, Ursa, this – this is some house!”
Ursa beamed. Carla moved further into the cave, feeling before her. Three paces, six, nine, twelve …
“How long does this thing go on for?” Carla asked in amazement.
“Yes, it is quite large, isn’t it?” said Ursa happily, drawing up beside her. “I’ve lived in this cave ever since I arrived here.”
“Could you possibly … I mean, obviously, I can’t see it, so maybe you could describe…”
“Of course,” said Ursa, obviously pleased that Carla was so interested. “Well, I’ve got a fire burning in the middle of the cave, there’s a hole in the ceiling above it, you’ll notice, opens into the forest, and that’s my bed, over there in the corner … not very fancy, obviously … a clay ledge with a couple of blankets … and you’ll be sleeping over there – opposite me – on that other ledge. I’ll filch some blankets for you if you like. And that’s Dolosus, by the way – Dol for short – he’s my little friend, aren’t you, Dolly?”
For something that felt like a very hard, very horny cannonball had just rocketed into Carla, knocking the wind out of her lungs.
Massaging her ribs, Carla looked around at waist height, expecting to see a cat of some sort, only to find that Ursa was laughing at her.
“What?” she burst out angrily. Only when the thing leapt off her shoulders and onto Ursa’s did she realise that it had been sitting there.
“What – what is that?” gasped Carla.
“This is a very curious creature indeed,” said Ursa, patting the creature on its horned head. “Dol’s a cross, aren’t you, boy? Half tree-elf, half faun. I’d call him a tree-faun. Two little horns on his head, goat’s tail, hoofs, lower quarters covered in hair … and about two feet high, with smooth bark for skin.”
Carla stared in bewilderment at the direction of her voice, listening to the chirruping, guttural noises the creature was making in its throat.
“Where on earth did you find him?” she asked in amazement.
“You were given to me, weren’t you, boy?” Ursa said to the tree-faun. “In exchange for directions … chap seemed quite keen to be rid of him, can you believe it?”
Carla would have liked to have said that she could very much believe it, but decided that it might not be overly appropriate in the circumstances; Ursa seemed very fond of the peculiar little creature.
After a moment of listening to the windstorm outside and Ursa’s cooing, the nagging feeling that had been chewing its way through her stomach surfaced.
“Ursa,” she said slowly, “how are we going to get back up the cliff?”
“We don’t need to,” replied Ursa immediately; it seemed she had been waiting for a question of this kind to pop up soon. “I’ll show you how we get out of here. Come, Dolly, boy!” she added, and the tree-faun leapt onto her head, chirruping. Carla followed the two of them deeper into the cave. She tried to count her steps, but tripped over a tree root and lost count. After a while, she noticed that the warm, flickering light of the fire no longer reached them, and the air had begun to grow cold again. Presently, they came to a narrow passage, earthy and bare, and Carla shivered slightly as they entered it.
“Where does it go?” she whispered to Ursa.
“Up,” said Ursa simply, and sure enough, after a few long minutes of walking, the passage began to slant upwards. A chill breeze caused Carla’s ragged garments to flutter slightly about her, and she shivered again.
The passage began to slope still more steeply, and Carla began to think longingly of the warmth of the cave behind her. Just as she was about to suggest they go back, however, Ursa stopped dead.
“We’re here!” she called triumphantly, as Carla stopped beside her. “Crouch down – feel what it is.”
Carla obliged, and found that they were at the foot of a very old, very crudely fashioned set of stone steps. Comprehension dawning, Carla turned her head in the direction of Ursa and Dolosus.
“Where do they come out?” she asked.
“Follow me,” said Ursa, and a short while later, the three of them emerged into a very small, tall space that turned out to be a hollow tree. A strong breeze gusted through its cracking foundations and through a small hole at its roots, which Carla could only assume was the exit.
After a few painful moments of struggle, in which Ursa and her tree-faun tugged and pushed her through the tiny gap, Carla rose, and found herself standing, scratched and bruised, on the sloping, grassy edge of yet another cliff – only, this time, she could smell the salt in the air and the harsh cries of gulls.
“Wait a moment,” she said slowly to Ursa, “this is the sea! But then … if this is a headland, and the tunnel goes right through it, shouldn’t the other cliff be above the sea as well?”
“The tunnel doesn’t go straight through the headland, though,” said Ursa. “The cave is situated on the cliff that follows the river to the sea – the two cliffs flanking the river make a sort of ravine – before curving into this peninsula. The cave is quite a way upstream of the sea. The tunnel takes a sort of diagonal route through the headland, that’s why it took so long to get here. This spot is almost right at the tip of the headland, just a little to the left side of it.” Ursa gestured to the surrounding area, then remembered that Carla couldn’t see her and stopped.
Carla tilted her head skywards and closed her blank eyes. The air was cool and refreshing, and she felt the crease that was ever-present on her brow fade slightly, as though brushed gently away by the wind.
After a while, Carla became aware that Ursa was watching her intently. She stood there a moment longer, pretending not to notice, but the deep furrow on her forehead had returned in full measure. Finally, Carla could ignore it no longer.
“Why are you staring at me?” she asked. It had come out badly, she knew it; the impulse had been childish, but all the same, she did not regret it.
Ursa just stood there for a moment and then said abruptly, “What do you want?”
Carla was taken very much by surprise; she stared at her companion with sightless eyes. “What do you mean? I – I want to help you, of course – ’’
“That’s not what I meant,” said Ursa. “Tell me … do you like this spot?”
“Er – yeah, I guess so,” said Carla, not entirely sure what Ursa was getting at.
“You like hearing the sea, don’t you? And the gulls? You like the wind on your face, and you like the smell of the salt air, don’t you?”
“Er,” said Carla again.
“There’s only one thing missing,” pressed Ursa, “and you know what it is, and I can get it for you.”
Carla was stumped. “Er –” she said, yet again.
“You’d like to see it, wouldn’t you?” said Ursa in a rush, the words tumbling over one another as they attempted to escape her mouth all at once. “You’d like to see the sea, and the gulls, and the grass, and the cliffs. You’d like to see the mountains I can see, silhouetted against the horizon. You want to see – I know you do.”
Carla’s heart was suddenly beating rather fast, though she wasn’t quite sure why. Could Ursa possibly mean what she thought she meant?
“You mean to tell me,” she said breathlessly, “that if I help you to find your father, you’ll – you’ll get me my sight back? But – but how?”
“Trust me. Don’t worry about how. But if you help me to find my father, I promise you that I’ll get you your sight back.”
“And I’ll – I’ll be able to see?”
“Yes.”
However, instead of inflating at these words, Carla’s heart now felt as though it had acquired a puncture.
“Why are you so keen for me to help you?” asked Carla suspiciously. “I mean, it’s going to be a lot of trouble, getting my sight back … Why are you so keen to find your father?”
“It’s obvious, isn’t it? Well, maybe not so obvious to you … But why on earth would I want to find my father if not to just see him again? Wouldn’t you like it if your father acknowledged you, for once, as more than a piece of dirt? My father –”
“Your father what?” said Carla, for Ursa had broken off in mid-sentence.
“My father left me,” said Ursa in a hollow voice, “when I was five. He just … went. And Mother, she – she was never the same. She just sort of changed, you know? She never talked … Not to her friends … Not to the villagers … Not to me. She hardly ever came out into the sunlight. I tried to talk to her – ’’ Ursa’s voice broke. “But she acted like she didn’t even know me. And then she went weird … I was scared of her. She would be really quiet, and then suddenly she’d be – well, it’s hard to explain. She was so angry, all the time … I had to keep my distance, or I was afraid she’d hurt me … and then one day, I went up to her, and tried to talk to her, about – about Father. I told her that I was sad, too, but I didn’t chuck clay pots in every direction when I was angry … and she went berserk. Gave me this – ’’ Ursa touched her shoulder. Carla touched it, too. Underneath her fingers, there was a long, coarse ridge. “She’d never been so angry. Told me to get out, and never come back. I ran away.”
Carla was gazing at the direction of her voice, horrified. And I thought I’d had it bad…
Ursa did not seem to want to stop, even though Carla could tell she was trembling. “I came back,” she whispered. “Two years later … I came back. I went to our house … she wasn’t there. I asked the first person I came across. Said that I needed to find her. He said that she was dead. ‘Died two years ago’, he told me. ‘Grief.’ I went away … met a couple of people … they told me that my father was connected to this place. I came here, and I’ve lived here ever since.” Ursa looked up at her horror-struck companion, and Carla was immensely glad, when she spoke, that she could not see her face. “You want your sight back,” she whispered. “And I want my parents back.”