Where the Floodplains Roll like Waves
Renafag

The morning was cold and I knew I had to rouse myself, but it was so warm under my old feedbeast-pelts.
Maybe just a bit longer ... I thought to myself as I hugged my burlap-sack pillow tighter against my body. I drifted off again into the familiar, comforting feeling of rough burlap digging into the skin of my cheek.
But I couldn’t fall asleep completely again. I was too conditioned after following my daily routine over a thousand times. Even if I had spent the entire night maintaining my Kettenkrad and fallen asleep at dawn, I would still have woken up, snoozed for a few minutes, and forced myself up the same as I did every morning. After five years, these habits of mine were like dear friends to me.
My breath steamed as I sat up, exposing myself to the bite of the cold morning air. Pulling my flannel undershirt tighter against me for warmth, I glanced around my room to avoid leaving my bed for good. My vision was blurry from just waking up and I rubbed my eyes before they adjusted to the paltry half-light that poured in through a few small holes set on the roof. It was the same view every morning: A small, half-underground circular cell with walls of stacked, uneven stones, populated with a few worn pieces of handmade wooden furniture. The sides of the room were littered with stoppered jars and small, sealed barrels while the space between the high roof and ground was filled with dangling nets. A smouldering fireplace was set into the wall on the far side.
I suppose the bed I was sitting on was awfully out of place here. The bed, Big Sis’ bed, my bed, it was my most treasured possession. Even with a mattress of straw and a burlap-sack pillow stuffed with dried field grass, the bed still looked like something out of a fairy tale Big Sis would have read to me. Indeed, it was easy for me to feel like a princess nestled under its covers.
It was a massive, baroque thing, made of aged wood covered with ornate carvings which was much too big to have been brought through the small front door. I had once asked Big Sis how she had gotten it into the room, but she had kept it a secret from me. Now, I was older and wiser so I had figured out that she had probably taken it apart into its individual pieces and reassembled it inside.
        	Shivering, I pulled on a wool overshirt which I had been using as a blanket. When I wore it, it dangled down to my knees like a dress, so I cinched it tight with a belt of braided strips of cloth. Now it really was a dress.
Swinging my feet around, I slipped them into the river-reed sandals which were the final pieces in my armour against the cold of my small cell.
I made my way over to the fireplace. The warmth of the smouldering embers was a relief to my stiff, cold fingers. As soon as feeling returned to them, I shifted a little to the right and grabbed hold of a massive stone sitting snug against the wall of my house. Grunting with the effort, I rolled it aside, uncovering my modest pantry.
Huh … I thought to myself, I could have sworn I still had some cheese left. It wasn’t that big of a deal though – I wouldn’t die if I went a few days without cheese.
I drew out a wide piece of flatbread and unwrapped the cloth that had protected it from dust, fungi, and the ever-present pantry weevils. I tore off a small chunk of it for breakfast before moving over to sit at my usual spot on the battered ironbound chest at the foot of my bed.
It took a bit of chewing to be able to swallow the tough bread so I grabbed a skin of water which hung from the rafters and took a few sips to lubricate my throat. The water was ice-cold and quite refreshing, but the beaten brass spigot of the waterskin stung my lips which had cracked from the cold.
        	Thinking myself sated, I rewrapped the bread and shoved it back into the pantry. I grabbed the massive, flat stone which I used to seal the pantry but paused.
        	Submitting to my early morning cravings, I withdrew another wrapped package from deeper in the pantry. I unwrapped the side of salted venison and reached for the puukko which hung from the braided sheath I always hung with thongs of rawhide from my belt. With the thin, tapering work-knife, I hacked off a sliver of the dark, leathery meat and chewed on it, savouring the rich salty flavor.
Big Sis never let me have more than a sliver before dinner … I thought to myself.
        	I hesitated for a second. Then I hacked off a larger chunk. I was the one hunting the deer, butchering the carcass, and salting the meat now after all. I could decide how and when I wanted to enjoy the product of my labours.
        	But I could only indulge myself so much. Big Sis had taught me what it meant to work hard, to carry my own weight.
        	All right! I won’t dally much longer. I promised Big Sis as I grabbed my feedbeast-bone comb from where it sat on my shelf, next to an empty bottle of the foul-tasting liquid Big Sis used to brew. I hastily combed my hair before braiding it into two loose pigtails. Perhaps it would have been easier for me to tie my hair into the ponytail my sister always used, but she had been the one to first braid my hair into my two pigtails, and I had insisted on wearing my hair that way ever since.
        	I finished by tying my pigtails together with a pair of rubber bands retrieved from my shirt pocket. Then I walked over to my old, iron-bound chest to open it. The first thing I drew out of its depths was a fresh bottle of Big Sis’ spirits. I set it aside I’d need this for later. Now, to fish out the clothes that were buried somewhere inside …
I slipped on my wool tights, then my calfskin trousers. I removed my knife belt so I could don my shirt of buckskin. I wrapped my hands and fingers in white bandages. Lastly, I buttoned up a thick wool trenchcoat around myself before wrapping an even thicker cloak made from the smelly, furry hide of a feedbeast around my shoulders. My knife belt became a loop to join with another loop on my trenchcoat.
        	I was sure that no matter how cold it was outside, this outfit would keep me warm. Already, I was sweating inside it, so I hurried to go outside. I leaned down to grab the bottle off the floor. I grabbed a satchel of the supplies I had prepared last night. Lastly, I retrieved Big Sis’ rifle from where it hung from the two hooks above the doorway. Then, I stepped out the door.
        	It was a beautiful day. The sky was clear and the air was crisp and so cold that my nose stung breathing it in. The tree leaves and grass were covered in a thin layer of morning frost that would be gone by midday. Staring up, my sight was greeted by the sun. As always, it peeked through the strip of glass on the other side of the world where it was met by a quilt of fields, forests, and lakes curving downwards to my own small valley. The sun shone through the glass, its rays making me feel warm even as I shivered from the cold.
        	What was I planning to do today? I asked myself as I opened the door to my tool shed, really more of a decrepit pile of wood than a proper structure. Gazing inside, I looked at the stack of tin milking buckets in one corner, the pile of nets in the other, the tool rack from which dangled saws, hatchets, a broken fishing spear…
        	Ah, that was it. I had intended to find a new tip for my fishing spear ever since the head had dulled after being cast against one too many rocks. There were some big fish that simply could not be hauled up from the bottom of the lake with a net, especially by a thin waif like me. Of course, they were the ones that made for the best eating.
        	I retrieved a heavy hatchet and fine-toothed saw from the tool rack as well as an insulated tank of petrol. It was a heavy load, one which I would have had to split with Big Sis before.
        	Grunting, I carried my load to the Kettenkrad in one trip.
        	Like every morning, the Kettenkrad was waiting for me in its own small clearing under its blue tarp. Unlike me, it offered no protests when I ripped it’s tarp off. I wish I could get up so easily in the mornings.
        	I patted it’s steel side. “All right!” I whispered to it. “Let’s do our best today.”
        	Of course, it didn’t answer. Perhaps in the past, treaded bikes like it had been able to respond when greeted by young girls but the Kettenkrad had always been silent, even around Big Sis.
        	I picked up my gear from where I had left it on the ground and loaded it into the back of the Kettenkrad. Then, I climbed into its front saddle and grabbed the handlebars. I looked at the fuel meter. The tank was three-quarters full. That was good enough, so I revved the engine. The twin treads of the Kettenkrad churned the mud in the divots that had formed under its weight in the night. Suddenly, it lurched forwards, climbing out of the divots and pulling it’s ponderous weight through the mud of the clearing.
        	The Kettenkrad was old and slow, it could barely outpace me at a run. Despite that, I didn’t even notice the time pass by on my daily journey until I was on top of a hill at the edge of my small valley and overlooking my cairn-like home. From this height it looked like a grey anthill made of river stones.
        	I looked out over the landscape as the Kettenkrad slowly crawled down the opposite side of the hill. As always, the sunlight beautifully illuminated the great crease between the twin lines of hills, their forested sides giving way to the great flat fields of grain dotted with roving herds of feedbeasts doing whatever feedbeasts did on lovely mornings. Looking forwards towards the gaping end of the world, I imagined myself in a massive tunnel with entire landscapes as its walls. The view disappeared as I rode my Kettenkrad into the hillside forest, tracing the path of a forest brook and using it as my guide. As small as it was now, it would join with a dozen of its brothers and sisters on their way down the hillsides until it united with the winding river which watered the nearly endless plains of wild grain. From there, I would follow the river to the marshy grey floodplains.
***
        	As the day passed and the treads of my Kettenkrad carried me further and further, the ancient, gnarled trees of the hillside forest gave way to the endless fields of grain. To me, passing through the great fields of grain always felt like traversing a great ocean. I had shared this sentiment with Big Sis once, but she had told me that she had never heard of any respectable ocean where one could always see the shore. This was true, even from the middle of the field of grain, I could always see the green outline of the base of the hills even before they curved perpendicular to my line of sight. Of course, I wouldn’t have known what an ocean was if not for Big Sis.
A wind blew across the field of grains, turning the heads of grain into a landscape of green and brown waves.
Thump. The kernels or grain, as large as my thumb, made a thumping sound as they smacked against the hull of the Kettenkrad. If I had not already had two sacks of flour back home, I would have taken a few heads of grain home to grind today.
The same wind which set the sea of grain into motion pulled at my hair with cool, capricious fingers. Despite being bound in heavy braids, my hair almost joined the stalks of grain in their breeze-fueled dance.
‘Look, little princess’
Unbidden, old memories filled my thoughts …
***
	A windy night … A floor of glass … The stars beneath our feet ...
        	‘Look, little Princess,’ Big Sis pointed at the far end of the world. ‘You can see the ocean from here.’
        	I looked where she pointed. Indeed, there was a great field of liquid blue where she pointed. It was like a stain of blue on the side of an empty pail of paint.
        	‘It’s too warm here,’ I complained as I sweltered under my many layers. Only minutes ago, the sun had been beneath our feet and its warmth was still radiating in shimmering waves from the burning hot glass floor.
        	‘Ehhhh?’ Big Sis responded ‘It’s not every day the fog clears enough that you can see the other end of the world, you know.’
        	I fidgeted impatiently. ‘Can’t you just drive us home already? We haven’t eaten dinner yet!’
***
        	I stared at the shaggy snout of the feedbeast bull.
A herd of feedbeast  that had been wallowing in the river I was following had ended my reminiscence when  lost in memory, I had nearly driven headlong into one’s hairy side.
        	Muttering in frustration, I honked the Kettenkrad’s horn in the Bull Feedbeast’s face, but all that spurred it to do was yawn in my face, showing me an impressive set of flat molars stained with the residue of its breakfast of mulched grains.
        	I stared down the cavernous throat before recoiling from the stench of breakfast cud and stomach acid. If the feedbeast deigned to, it could easily have leaned forwards and bitten my head off. Luckily, I was a young girl, not a young head of grain.
        	The only thing I could do was go around the massive herd. That was a considerable detour, feedbeast herds weren’t a trifling thing. As I circled around the wallowing mass of fur and blubber, I stared at the sprawling herd before smiling affectionately. As much as they were sometimes a nuisance, feedbeast were an important source of fur, meat, and milk. Besides, their calves were cute, even if I needed to kill one every time I made a bit of cheese.
        	If I hadn’t been seeking materials to repair my fishing spear, I would be gathering feedbeast milk. It was good fortune for any feedbeast calves around that I preferred the taste of spitted lakefish to a wheel of feedbeast cheese … though if I hadn’t had two packages already in my pantry, I would have considered snagging myself a few pieces of jerky.
        	Craving for feedbeast jerky, I rode my Kettenkrad onwards and left the herd of feedbeast behind. I sighed in boredom. It wouldn’t be long now before I left the fields of grain behind as well.
***
        	The stalks of grain gradually grew sparser and sparser as the ground became marshier and marshier, grey silt replacing loamy soil. I had reached the end of the river in the barren floodplains. They stretched onwards and onwards, an unending landscape of drifting mud dunes and crystal-clear pools of stillwater. I proceeded carefully, leaving a trail of compacted mud and disturbed water in my wake. The landscape was treacherous and ever-changing. The bottom of a seemingly inch-deep pool of water could conceal a bottomless mire while a carelessly disturbed hill might collapse and give forth a tidal wave of engulfing mud.
       	But the Kettenkrad was up to the task. It’s wide treads floated above quicksand and swamps while it’s armoured hull held me above the shifting torrents of silt.
        	I wasn’t afraid. It wouldn’t be much longer now before I reached my goal. Besides, I had splashed through the muddy floodplains many times before. It wouldn’t be much longer until … there! There it lay as it always did. Raised above the floodplain on a concrete causeway was a strip of glass ten times as wide as the Kettenkrad. It was a window to the outside of the world. It was a gateway for the sun’s light. At the same time, it was a highway to where I was going.
        	I drove the Kettenkrad up the sloped side of the causeway onto the great strip of glass. It seemed to stretch forwards towards the end of the world. I was convinced that the highway of glass actually did stretch on until the end of the world, but the end of the world was not where I was headed. My destination was only a short distance down the great glass highway.
        	With the sun and world hanging above my head and the endless stars beneath my feet, I felt tiny. I was dwarfed by the great glass highway with its entire length clear as crystal the whole way save for the muddy tracks the Kettenkrad left.
        	The sound of thunder could be heard from far away and I just made out the grey smudge of rain clouds on the far side of the floodplain to my side. Soon the rain would come and turn the entire floodplain into a glistening lake. The tracks on the Kettenkrad would be washed away and the glass highway turned spotless again while the floodplain would be unrecognizable after being stirred and engorged by the coming rain. I hoped that I would be able to get back home before that happened. As treacherous as the floodplain was now, it was even more so after a thunderstorm.
        	***
        	It was a lot faster to travel on the glass highway. There were knobbly roots to trip the Kettenkrad in the forest and patches of tough grass stalks in the fields to foul the treads. The floodplain was another kind of treacherous entirely compared to the two. However, there were no obstacles on the perfectly-smooth glass highway. Suspended above the floodplain on the concrete causeway, I passed unhindered. It was easy to drive in a straight line and I was free to look at the dead, grey landscape around me. Gradually, the floodplain grew into a marshy swampland which in turn turned back into the fertile fields of grain dotted with roving herds of feedbeasts until finally, I reached my destination.
        	I drove off glass highway and off the concrete causeway into a forest. However, it wasn’t  like the ones that clung to the sides of the hills. Although the tree trunks were just as thick and the roots just as knobby, the trees themselves were spaced more evenly apart. A carpet of soft grass covered the ground instead of one of rotting leaves. It was more an untended, overgrown garden than a wild hillside.
        	Sunlight streamed through the branches of the trees, lighting up inviting clearings. In the dappled light, I spotted a mossy stone bench cracked with age, an untended bed of red flowers which had grown over the entire clearing, and an abandoned robot.
        	It was sitting on the ground, a great steel mannequin. It leant against a stone dais which had once raised a tree above the ground of the garden, but the tree had since outgrown it’s space and half-encased the robot in the tangle of its roots.
        	I stared closely at the robot with its steel-barrel body, it’s insectile limbs and clever fingers, it’s curiously human face with it’s dead, dim eyes. I felt sympathetic for the robot. It must have been so lonely sitting by itself in the forest for so long. I briefly dreamed of cutting it free of the tree, repairing it, giving it a new home in my cramped stone cell. Perhaps the robot and I would have become friends.
        	Walking back to the Kettenkrad, I retrieved my axe and saw. I lay the saw against the trunk of the tree before hefting the axe over my shoulder. Walking around the trunk of the tree back to where the Robot was, I turned and faced the Robot again. I spread my feet wide apart for the most stability. Then, I lifted the axe over my head and swung down at the Robot’s arm. He wouldn’t be needing it anymore, he was dead. Besides, the thin steel reed of his arm was perfect for a new fishing spear.
The metal plating screeched as the axehead scraped against it. It was difficult severing the arm -- despite being as thin as as my forefinger at its widest, it felt like I was trying to chop through the trunk of one of the ancient trees in the hillside forests.
        	Again and again, I swung the axe, chipping a little deeper into the arm every time until with a snap … the arm just fell off! Good, I was worried that I would have had to use the saw. It was tedious and bothersome to use the saw, it had been designed for use by two people at a time after all.
        	I tucked the severed arm under my elbow, slung the axe over my shoulder, and picked up my saw before heading back to the Kettenkrad. There was still more work until the arm could be made into spearheads, but that could be done at home. It was a great prize, that arm. Both the forearm and hindarm could be fashioned into spearheads while the delicate inner workings could be melted down into bullets for Big Sis’ rifle.
        	I tossed both my tools and prize into the back of the Kettenkrad before sitting down in the back as well. The work of chopping through a metal arm had exhausted me, and I was just about ready for lunch. I grabbed my satchel and retrieved a small piece of flatbread as well as a hunk of a sweaty piece of cheese. A few strips of dried jerky finished off the meal.
        	Starved from my physical labour, I tore into my meal at first, before gradually calming down. None of the food was soft or easy to eat, the jerky especially was jaw-numbing to chew. I frequently had to wash down morsels stuck in my throat with water from my water flask.
        	I sat in contemplative silence, bathed in the forest clearing’s noon sunlight.
        	It’s a peaceful day I thought to myself, even compared to the unchanging days which had passed me by every year of my life. Nothing special had really happened, after all.
        	Then, to chastise my thoughts, a beautiful white hind slipped out of the forest into the opposite side of the clearing. This almost never happened, as the noise of the Kettenkrad usually scared them away.
       	Of course, I immediately stopped chewing, as if the sound of it would have scared away this rarely-seen creature. It was a lovely thing, with long shapely legs, large, intelligent, black eyes, and a coat the colour of the morning frost tinged at the tips with charcoal. I had only seen it’s like four times before and never by chance.
        	As slowly as possible, I reached for Big Sis’ rifle. Like a glacier, I raised the stock to my shoulder and stared down the iron sights. I carefully aimed, I didn’t have time to track a wounded animal through the forest. My first shot would have to be my only shot.
        	The sound of thunder filled the clearing less than a second. In an instant, the bullet exited the barrel and slid between the White Hind’s ribcage and straight through where Big Sis had taught me where it’s heart was. It was a shot Big Sis would have been proud of.
        	The Hind collapsed to the ground without a sound. I walked over to its carcass. Even dead, the Hind was still beautiful. Slinging it over my shoulder, it also felt surprisingly light.
I hoped it tasted as good as it looked. I tended to like the taste of Venison since it was so hard to come by, so perhaps to me it would taste even better than how it looked.
I loaded the Hind’s carcass into the back of the Kettenkrad. Legs sprawled out, it now lay next to my satchel, my tools, and the Robot’s arm.
Not bad for a day’s work I thought to myself.
I climbed back into the Kettenkrad’s saddle and revved the engine. Turning around, I exited the clearing and started crawling back home.
But first, I had one more stop to make …
***
       	Crossing the floodplains on my way home, I had made a detour to this place. I parked my Kettenkrad by one of the great boulders that marked it’s borders before grabbing the bottle from where it lay on the floor of the back of the Kettenkrad. Slipping the bottle in my pocket, I prepared to climb the rocky escarpment.
When I reached the top, I saw what I always saw: a small patch of grass with a stunted tree growing in its center. It was a lonely island, buoyed by a rocky foundation above the floodplains so that no matter how much the floodplains shifted and the mudflats drifted, this patch of greenery was preserved. It used to be Big Sis’ favorite spot.
Looking at the other side of the world, I could see that the sun was setting, disappearing beyond the edge of the window. I’d probably be late getting home again, but that didn’t matter.
        	Conspicuously out of place was a standing stone, situated in the perfect spot to overlook the entire floodplain and join me in enjoying the sunset. Around it was littered half a dozen old bottles from my visits from before. A few of them were upright and still full, but most of them had fallen over and spilled their contents a long time ago.
        	Turning away from the sunset, I crouched down in front of it. I slipped the bottle out of my pocket and uncorked it. I took a sip. As always, I coughed as the fiery spirit burned my throat all the way down. I think Big Sis would have been glad to know I was drinking her alcohol now.
        	I set down the alcohol in front of the grave, as that was what the standing stone was. The bottle of fiery liquid was an entreaty, an offering of my pent-up feelings. It was the only kind of gift I knew how to give.
“Big Sis?” I began to speak
“How have you been? I’m sorry that I’ve left you by yourself on this island, but I’ll try to visit as much as I can.”
“I just want to let you know I’ve been well.” I continued “Today, I got the parts I needed to fix my spear … oh, I broke my spear by the way. I also managed to catch a Hind, just like you taught me. I wish you’d share it with me like you used to.”
“Your little sister’s getting by perfectly fine!” I almost finished. “It’s that …”
I let my words hang in the air before inhaling, ready to continue. “It’s just that … well, it’s really been a struggle for me every day. I’ve been really lonely living by myself and … I really miss you.”
At this point, I had to wipe away some tears collecting in my eyes. If Big Sis’ had seen me crying, she would have mercilessly teased me about it for days on end. Or perhaps she would have hugged me and comforted me.
“But don’t worry about your little sister, Big Sis. I’ll be fine, and continue doing my best.” I said before finishing “I know that even if I can’t talk to you anymore, you’ll always be with me. With you around, I’ll never have a reason to feel lonely.”
I stared up at the sky, enjoying my new feeling of reassurance and drive.
The air grew colder and colder and watched as the glow of the sun gradually turned into the light of stars from beyond the great glass windows.
“Well …” I said “I’d better get going, Big Sis. I’m sorry I have to leave now, but I’ll be back soon, I promise!”
I got up from where I had been kneeling before walking to the edge of the little patch of grass. With a glance back over my shoulder, I began to carefully climb down.
As soon, as I got down, I got back on the Kettenkrad. Tiredly, I revved the engine and headed home.