2. The North Cascades

Benen sat alone on the summit of Mount Baker. Though, he thought to himself, it should no longer be called the “summit”. With the eruptions suffered in the last two decades, it was surprising that there was any mountain left at all. Not long ago he and his lackey, Río, had passed the rim of the large crater, invisible from their standpoint and now covered deeply in snow, but Benen knew exactly where they were. He now found a comfy place to rest on; a rock covered in snow and ice. He looked out in front of him as the sun rose high above. The orange glow enveloped the outline of every mountain, the aura growing brighter and brighter with each passing minute. From the higher altitude looking down, he could see that the mountains seemed to have been encircled with lands blacker than ash, resulting from the massive and most recent eruption of Mount Baker almost two decades before. All vegetation had lost its ability to grow for miles around due to the large ash fall that had enveloped the area. The eruption was so large in fact that the ash was found on the other side of the world. Landslides from various instances of volcanic activity had buried cities, most still covered with mud now petrified and almost forgotten, and the phenomenal earthquake that had been triggered near the time of the eruption would have flattened nearly every city to survive lahars. No one had been prepared for such tragedy.
Benen thought of all those who had lost their lives because of the mountain he was standing on, thinking how impossible it seemed that rock could turn to liquid, become unstable. It seemed improper somehow that Mother Nature would both give and take life. The hiking and climbing had exhausted him, but nothing took his breath away more than the history and landscape of endless mountains, so well-lit and inviting that he seemed to come to life every time, as if the scenery breathed it into him.
As the sun appeared between two low peaks, his brilliant blue eyes drank in the surroundings. Benen never thought of shielding his eyes simply because the beauty disabled his movement. The music of morning began to ring from the walls of the mountains, while sunlight splashed warmly on his face. It was a familiar warmth, and he was very thankful for it after such a dark, cold journey across the Ash Lands. He removed his hat, accepting the sun’s hospitality.
Behind him, Río came stumbling over the bank. With him he brought a cooking pot full of snow and some small branches to start a fire. He waddled through the fallen snow over to his master, and laid the sticks and pot before him. Then looked towards the man's face and asked, "Señor Benen, should I start the fire now?" He had the comical look of a small dog, trying desperately to please his owner.
There came no reply to his question, however. Río stood there looking from his master, to the sky where his eyes seemed to be tangled, and then back to his master once more. Slowly, Benen placed his jaw into the center of his palm and, still looking into the distance, simply said, “It’s snowing.”
The lackey looked up to the clouds. Not finding any snow falling above him, he outstretched his arms and stuck out his tongue. He lowered his head, befuddled, and looked at the powder on the ground. Kicking at it and watching it fly into the air, he was still convinced that snow was not falling. Moments later, he pulled his tongue back into his mouth. Completely unsatisfied because he hadn’t found the slightest trace of fresh powder, he turned to his master and looked at him questioningly.
Now aware of Río paying full attention to him, Benen smiled at his friend. Río well understood the smile; it meant that he hadn’t been listening. He had seen that very smile many times on his mischievous little brother, and now his master bore it.
"It's snowing," he said again, "over there." His finger pointed to the north. "Those are snow clouds, and the fog below tells me it's most likely snowing."
Río understood at last, and then gave his Master Benen another clear look of confusion from underneath his frazzled, fuzzy eyebrows. He cocked his head to one side and asked, "What does that mean, Señor?" He began to fret that he was supposed to know the relevance without questioning his master. He continued to fidget with his hands until his master settled his clear blue gaze upon him with a reassuring smile.
Benen looked around, clearly attempting to answer his question. He settled with a gaze upward, and then stood. He reached into the pocket of his oversized skin jacket, and dug out a shiny silver-like pebble. Gently he stroked it with his thumb as he held it in his left hand, watching it all the while. As the warmth began to seep into the tiny stone, it broke into a fine, sparkling powder.
Río looked on with fascination. The man’s strong eyes were intent, and he could not decide whether it was the heat from his hand or fire from his eyes that chipped away at the pebble. As Benen lifted his hands, filled with the powder, Río crouched down for fear he would interfere with the workings of the magic.
Before them, the powder scattered from Benen’s cupped hands into the light wind, which seemed suddenly to quicken. Benen knelt down, unaware of the snow beneath his knees, and recited a small chant that Río could not understand. Then he tucked his head down near his knees and held his hands to his feet. “Come,” he said softly. “Tell me the truth.”
A small wind began to blow specifically around Benen, growing in both size and intensity. Finally the force was so strong that Río stepped back in surprise, faltering over his own feet. The silver gust formed a circle around Benen’s body as he sat back on his knees. He called out bravely to the wind, “What has become of our salvation? Tell us, Great Wind, is the time near?” His eyes blazed, not seeing the terrain of snow, not noticing day or night, but focused only on the breeze around him.
The silver drew traces, or perhaps shadows of human figures. There were three that he saw; two of which he knew were men. He rested his palms down onto his knees, closed his eyes and looked again. When he opened them the picture, he knew, would be different.
Now he saw a woman. The figure held something close, very close, though he could not decipher what it was she clenched. The only thing he could make out for a certainty was the woman’s hair, long and flowing down gracefully on her shoulders.
Again he closed his eyes, and the silvery wind flew on into the mountains, climbing higher and higher all the while. When he looked up at Río again, he felt his feet, asleep underneath him, and his heart beating rapidly. Never had he seen shadows so clearly. Something was new. Something, he knew, had begun.
Looking as if he didn't know what to say, his lackey took one brave step forward and looked at him softly. "Well, sir?"
Winded, Benen breathed his words somewhat quietly. Río listened hard to hear the words come from under his breath.
"I believe our time has come."
With the meaningful look that Benen had in his eyes, Río knew exactly what he had meant. This was the time that his master wanted so much for; the time when everything would begin, and the search for righteousness would no longer be in vain. Master Benen had been searching for such a terribly long time, it seemed, despite his young appearance. Why, even when he came to find poor Río he had been looking, and readying waiting for the wondrous day to come.
Soon, prayed Río, soon his master’s search would end. Perhaps then the man would rest, though his lackey doubted he would. Throughout the few years they’d spent side by side, Río knew nothing of the master would even desire to rest. Sleep simply happened when his body could take no more, leaving the lackey winded and gasping most days, especially upon reaching the summit of the very mountain where he stood. The poor manservant, hunkered over in stature, knew that he could easily stand one good night’s rest.
Reassuring himself not to be afraid, Río squeaked, “Sí, Señor. But what does this mean? How do you know for sure?”
Río hadn’t had any idea as to what his master had seen in the wind blowing so tightly around him, and he half hoped to learn. He was very curious, always intrigued by the magic. However, he chose his words carefully, for the other half of him was quite terrified of the awesome power it contained.
As if realizing for the first time that his lackey knew nothing of magic, Benen turned to him, blinking quickly with his eyebrows raised. He briefly explained the vision, if it could be any more brief than the shadows he had seen, and then followed it with a question.
“Río,” he asked informally, “do you know how to read a dream?”
“Oh, no Señor. I have never…” He trailed off, anticipating the words to come.
Benen was not one to disappoint him. He grabbed one of Río’s sticks, which were still huddled on the ground in the snow, next to the metal pot which, most likely from the large gust of wind or Río’s fumbling feet, had been knocked over. With the stick held lightly in his hand, he traced a bubbly cloud into the white powder. Following the picture of the cloud, he jabbed the stick repetitively into the snow several times beneath it.
“Snow symbolizes change, Río. When it begins to fall from the sky, many things change. Children suddenly play together instead of argue, and quarreling couples sit cuddling in front of fires. In the world of dreams, it is no different. Something interesting is happening now, changing. I’ll be damned if it’s not the answer to our prayers, or close to it.
“I think something waits for us below these mountains, my friend.”
His jaw swung from one side to the other, snapping. Tightly, Benen clenched the small branch, still in hand, and looked at it determinedly but afraid. Never in his life had he been more excited, or more afraid. If their mission failed, humanity would die by his hand.
Río swallowed hard. The simple thought of those snowflakes falling on his head was painful. All he wanted was to melt some snow into water, and make a warm fire. Marshmallows would be nice too, but such luxuries had left him in his travels with Master Benen.
“We, Señor, are to go there?” He pointed down at the fog where the snow fell.
Jaw clenched, Benen nodded. “After such clear readings, I can see no where else to look. Besides, you should enjoy it. There are people there.”
Leaving the sticks behind, Benen retrieved his small, worn leather pack from his comfy rock. Río waddled across the few feet of snow and gathered up his pot. Carefully strapping it to the back of his own backpack with large string, he set off behind his master. Together, they began to descend the mountain.

Discomfort filled them to the very brim as they trudged through the deep, heavy snow.
His riddle repeating within his head, Benen hiked on, murmuring to himself.


“Only one omnipotent being

“Torn apart by flame
from the Days unseen
be of Strength of heart
and Guarded ways

“as a fractured Bauble
from better days”

Needless to say, the only bits that had been deciphered to mean anything according to the Elders still failed to make complete sense to Benen. He only glanced at the trees as he passed, , thinking hard to himself and not noticing as they slipped from blackened trunks to living things full of luscious leaves and thick green needles. Still, his ready mind would remember the trail for days, though he barely had to pay any attention at all. As he walked he instinctively kept an eye out for small clues of his own whereabouts. Anything of any importance would jump out to him, he figured; rocks, fallen trees, or waterways were particularly wonderful identifiers in the area. He could not help but wonder if somehow this land fit curiously somehow into the puzzle. “Flame… Days unseen…,” he pondered. “This area has had much volcanic activity, and all in the past so distant that most living never saw them. Could that be remotely close?”

They did not pause again until mid-morning. Río had munched happily on dried meat throughout the descent of the mountain, but still remained weary and in desperate need of rest.
Benen however, after using the Truth Rock, seeing real peoples in the visions for the first time, was more ambitious than ever before. While his feet marched numbly through the snow, he thought only of his riddle and how perhaps the shadows fit into it.
They sat and rested after Benen saw the tire and fatigue on his companion's face. Together they discussed what would happen in the next week or so, and celebrated that they had come so close to their salvation, and that of all humanity.
Their search, however, was far from over.

1. Butterscotch

Night began to darken all around as the world closed in. The snowstorm hit more violently than predicted, and many people were struggling to get home. It wasn’t the type of snow to fall gracefully; that was the snow Degaston had grown accustomed to over the years. Instead, it froze hard all day long as the gray clouds loomed warily overhead. The wind, which had been still throughout the day, began a rampage as soon as sunset concealed the earth into a blackish fog. When night began to settle, the clouds let go. Without a moment’s notice the entire city had become enveloped by the heavy white flurry.
As the ferocity continued, many broke out into a dead run, hoping to beat the weather home. Much of what had fallen had already stuck hard to the ground, and as they ran the roads became more and more slick with ice. There were others who slowed their pace to help the elderly and young children, carrying them across their backs. The falling hail, for one could not possibly call it snow any longer, was blinding and too thick to make out the few dim street lamps that were lit. Instead, they provided a faint glow from the level of the rooftops, making the scene all the more surreal.
A young man who had been shopping the town’s general store was on his own way back to find his wife. They had been shopping together, getting extra supplies for the very reason that beat heavily on his head. Making his way through the street, which was nearing empty, he heard a child’s small cry.
“Hello? Are you there?” His voice was forceful, almost fierce with worry. He was certain that it had been a child, and he couldn’t bear that they would be out in the storm alone. Taking care not to trample over anyone, he inched toward the sound, begging softly for the child to speak.
“Who’s there? What is your name?” he called, asking as gently as possible. It seemed that he should raise his voice. The weather was blinding, and the patter of ice rapidly hitting the street was deafening.
The other voice made a whimper before replying, and then said weakly, “Danny.” Quickly, the child trembled, “Where’s mama?”
Danny’s hand came from seemingly out of nowhere, yet somehow they locked hands. The man was relieved, having been able to find and help this boy. Comfortingly, he encouraged Danny to come with him out of the storm. “Well, that’s what we’re going to find out, okay? Come with me, and we’ll hide in one of the shops here. Perhaps we can find the Sweet Shop and get some hot chocolate. Come on!”
He knew that if they didn’t both get inside now that they may not make it anywhere. Never in his life had he seen such horrible weather.


The large town held many people, and everyone had at least a vague idea as to who most everyone else was. There was a sense of community, built with heart and generosity, unlike any other. Now more than ever, their dependence on each other grew. Those shopping in town were stranded, and all store owners and town houses readily supplied shelter. Many shopkeepers simply lived on the top floor of their establishment, and the living district was not far away considering their relaxed way of life. With the weather ready for a small storm, it seemed easier to leave the car parked in the garage; icy roads are easier to walk. And so, everyone in town became stranded.
Somehow, through all the commotion, there was a small group of people naïve to the fact that a blizzard had begun. Inside the Rawls General Store a woman had suddenly fallen to her knees after realizing that there, in front of everyone, her water had broken. She knew that her baby was due within a month or more, but this baby chose to start as soon as the first snowflake had fallen. Al, who owned and ran the store day in and day out, ran straight to her side. Quickly, having been through this before, he picked her up cautiously and hurried her upstairs into his own bed.
“Where’s your husband?” he asked in his friendly-like tone.
“Bread,” she said in shock, trying to remember to breathe. She seemed more embarrassed or excited than anything. “Yours… costs too much. He went across the street.”
The old man cackled, amazed that her sense of humor was still in tact. After trying to make her comfortable, he hustled back down the stairs to find elderly women trying to clean up after the woman. As he continued down the stairs, muttering his thanks to the pair, he came face to face with a tall man, lean in stature, with dark skin and fading hair. The man, who was well known in town, was Myron Patterson. Luckily, Dr. Patterson was the most prestigious of doctors anyone in this town had ever met.
“The baby’s coming early?” he said, not without a hint of surprise.
Al looked at him, dumbfounded, and coolly said, “I think that’s what happened, yeah.”
The doctor shook himself off, trying not to seem concerned or say anything else in stupidity. Quickly, pointing towards the bedroom and dashing up the stairs, he asked, “May I?”
“Help yourself, Doc.” Thinking to himself, he was grateful, for the doctor had just relieved a whole lot of work from his shoulders. He walked back to his register, pulling out a crude flashlight and some candles. After pulling an old and worn lighter from his pocket and setting each wick on fire, he placed them miscellaneously about the room to help everyone see. The power had not gone out, but the store only had lights on the top floor. The sun, rain or shine, always came in through the window to provide customers with more than enough light.
However, now he feared that the power might blink out completely, and the heavy snow clouds blocked almost all outside light. He took one more candle, this time from the shelf, and took it up the stairs.
He first noticed the silence when he heard the floorboards creaking beneath his feet. It was a sound he knew all too well, but only when he was alone. The air suddenly was cold, and he could see his own breath disappear into it. As he reached his bedroom door, he could hear the squeak as the knob turned, and then the jolting of the lock. It was the same as every night that he went to bed, until he heard the doctor’s voice.
“Well, you’re nearly ready,” he was saying, “and you seem to be doing just fine. I have just one question for you… If you are able, that is.”
The woman smiled graciously, and looked toward him endearingly. “Of course you may ask questions. You just better know what to do with the answer. You are, after all, a doctor.”
Both bewildered and amazed, he stared down at her on the bed. Never had she shown any discomfort, save the embarrassment of having her water break on the floor of Al’s shop. She was in labor, and yet no questions, no screaming, she had not once complained. How could anyone be undergoing such a task without pain?, he wondered.
“Miss…” he began.
But she interrupted him. “Sir, you know I’m married. Have you forgotten my wedding so quickly?”
“Sorry, it’s hard to forget, but harder to accept. I’ve known you since you were so small… Forgive me. But I must ask; aren’t you, well- what I mean to say is, why aren’t you in excruciating pain?” He was even more skeptical because he had had to ask her. The situation seemed unreal.
Al had stopped in the doorway, completely understanding the concern of the doctor. His wife had given birth to three children, and each had been full of screams, tears, and exhaustion for both of them. Perhaps she was trying to be strong since her husband wasn’t near? He couldn’t decide. But something seemed completely out of place; she was hardly even sweating.
“No, there is no pain.” She was calm as she spoke, and gave a wry smile as if she knew something they did not. Glancing at Al, she continued, “Thank you kindly for letting us use your bed,” she touched her stomach with adoration. “I know it’s difficult for you.”
He smiled, generously. “You just do your job, ma’am,” he reminded her. “And make sure that baby’s good and healthy. Your husband should be here soon.” He couldn’t help but notice her rare beauty, and the entrancing way that she handled herself. The glow of a woman with child was always beautiful, but now her aura seemed to reach out and grab him. The gift of life was so close, and just as miraculously the gift of her child was painless so far.
“Thank you,” she replied, her voice soft, loving. Al and Dr. Patterson looked at each other, uncertain of what to think.
“Butterscotch?”
Outstretching her hand, she held her palm up. Inside she had about half of a dozen hard candies, wrapped in gold. “I’m pregnant, after all. I do get cravings. This,” she paused, popping one into her mouth, “is my weapon of choice.”