Distant Fires Read Free Page A

with the current coursing more rapidly, waves clipped the bow, bumping the craft as the strenuous work of paddling began.  
    Not since she was a youngster had she handled a canoe. Her people used dugouts; much heavier, less manoeuvrable craft, and though the light weight was infinitely preferable, her strokes were ill adept. Coupled with the intensity of the sun bearing down upon her like a searing flame, she was soon reduced to feverish and tired.    
    Masking her distress, she turned to Salgan and found herself further daunted by the sight of her companion, seemingly unaffected by the heat and effort; the glow of his strong arms deftly carving the water with clean, expert strokes.                           
    Arriving in an area unknown to her, the river branched into a smaller stream, and he signalled his intention to proceed. Here, the currents began to slow and veer off, gradually widening into the tranquil basin of a little pond.    
    A loon flew over the water, its distinctive call echoing an alert to the other denizens of the region, while a moose, feeding amidst the reeds on the opposite side, remained calmly unaffected by the presence of these strangers.  
    Unwilling to reveal the extent of her fatigue and discomfort, she was much relieved when she spied a grassy spot along the embankment and he gestured to stop.                                    
    Coming up along the bank enabled them to disembark, but once the bow had been lifted up out of the water, Salgan spontaneously jumped back in, swimming and floating like a carefree otter. She, too, felt the need to refresh herself, but the pleasure of his company notwithstanding, she was so overcome with exertion that she chose to sit, head resting on her arms, until she felt the strain release from her body.  
    She momentarily dozed but was jerked awake in the absence of his splashing. He was nowhere in sight.  
    Thinking he had gone off to look for food, she remained as she was, but soon began to question his whereabouts. Surely he would have told her before he left the site, and there were no surface bubbles to suggest his presence in the water. Where could he have gone?     
    Leaning forward on her knees, she peered over the bank, quaking at the image that might present itself, and at that second felt a push from behind, sending her headfirst into the water. The shock of both the action and the cooler temperatures was exasperating, but her annoyance was quickly replaced with relief, as she resurfaced in a burst of spray to the mischievous grin of her companion; unharmed and every bit as playful after so arduous a journey.  
    “I thought you were in trouble, you fox!” She scolded, sending back a volley of splashes.  
    “See what happens when you let your guard down and fall asleep?” he teased back. Leaping up onto the mossy bank, with her in close pursuit, he lost his footing, causing him to fall and her to topple over him, in a heap of weariness and mirth.           
    Laughing uproariously, barely able to catch their breath, they lay side by side recovering. The sun disappeared behind a cloud. Soon nothing could be heard but the buzz of an insect, a tweeting of finches, the tinkling of the poplar leaves on the rise of a breeze, and the gentle churn of water lapping against the bank. Ehta lay upon the moist warm earth, exhausted but happy, while Salgan turned onto his stomach, bracing himself on his elbows.  
    A small chipmunk, its cheeks bulging from a recent meal, scampered out of the wood with an end to the ruckus, poising itself a safe distance on a nearby rock.  
     “Ehta,” asked Salgan earnestly, with a turn of thought, “have you ever wondered why the chipmunk has a stripe on its back?”    
    Shaking her head, she turned to face him, smiling in the realisation of his intent.  
    Leaning forward, he stared into her with heart stopping intensity. A previously unfelt