Chapter 8: Fish In Hot Water
“And you say this… this Drift person… you say he just picked you up and ran away?”
“Yes. But he was panicking. He was frightened because he was on the run for a crime he didn’t commit.”
“Yes, yes. I understand that. But did he do all that without asking?”
“Well, yes. There wasn’t time, you see. He’s really very nice. And I was running away myself.“
Fish and Florence had begun to get along brilliantly. They talked and talked as Florence floated. The rhythmic bobbing motion of the ice on the water was like being a baby in a papoose and Fish found her eyes growing heavy. When she was older, Fish had ridden high on her mum’s shoulders as they plodded after dad. It had been a while, not until she was able to help fish and hunt, that she had been allowed to ride alongside him on the sled.
Florence continued to chat. “Oh my poor love. It’s you who are the nice one. One must always ask before kidnapping a person. No, I wouldn’t be too sure about that one. He sounds a lot like those other two.”
“Other two?”
“Oh yes. You know,” Florence dropped her voice to a disapproving whisper. “Snowmen. Nasty sort, every one of them.” She raised her voice again as she began to tell her story. “The ice has been full of stories about those two for as long as I can remember. Spreading their terror to people like you and people like me. Now let me see, what were their names? Oh yes…” But what those names were, Fish didn’t hear as the lullaby of waves lulled her into a deep slumber.
The sound of ice tapping against ice awoke her once, just for a minute or two. Her tired eyes noticed one of Florence’s children bobbing alongside. She heard the prim old lady tut sharply and saw the slender sliver of ice glided back into line. Smiling, Fish fell back to sleep and Florence sang until night gave way to a blue northern dawn and the green lights in the sky dimmed.
With a yawn, Fish shook herself awake. At first she thought they hadn’t travelled far at all. The same stretch of water, broken by squares of ice, stretched ahead of them. The same white world shrugged on either side. Wiping the sleep from her eyes, and brushing away the thin layer of snow which had covered her in the night, she even saw two hills in the distance. Two familiar looking hills. She was about to ask Florence why they had barely moved from where they’d last seen Drift when saw something else. The words in her throat melted away and new ones floated to the surface as her eyes focussed on something new on the landscape.
She pointed to the new feature. “The mountain,” she said. “I know that mountain. I’ve seen it before.”
“Yes dear, the mountain,” said Florence. “We are nearly there.” With a clink like glasses celebrating, the elderly ice block told the more eager blocks of ice to pick up their pace.
“I know this place. This is where…” The words clogged Fish’s throat.
“That’s right, young lady. This is where the Cave of Wonders is found. Our most special place. It’s where we all go sooner or later.”
Fish looked down at the water. It had begun to turn a deep blue and she could feel a change in temperature. “What’s happening to the river?” she asked.
Florence sighed. “Warmth. The waters bubble up with great heat. They sing of a time when this land was covered in colour. The land and the sea remember.”
“But…” Fish struggled to understand. “But if it’s warm. Won’t you… won’t you melt? Won’t you die?”
Laughter bounced around the floe as the younger ice blocks giggled. “Oh silly child,” said Florence. “We don’t die, my dear. We change. Everything does. You’re no more the person you were yesterday than you are the person you will be tomorrow.”
“No,” Fish protested. “You can’t go. You can’t change. Why does everything have to change? You’re just like my mum. Stay with me. Help me find Drift. Help me clear his name. Turn back.”
“We can’t go back, dear. We go where the water takes us. Sure as salmon.”
Fish stood and walked to the edge of the large ice block. “Then stop. Move to the sides and hold on tight. Don’t move. Don’t change.”
“Now why would I want to do that? Stop being silly. Just think, if you hadn’t woken me up it might have been centuries before I came here. This is very exciting. For all of us.”
Fish knelt and began to paddle. Her hands became cold as she splashed, trying to change the course of her new friend.
“Now, now,” said Florence. “Stop that at once. This is most unbecoming. You’ll catch cold. You’re not built for this kind of weather. I’d have thought you’d be only too delighted to visit the Cave of Wonders. Your kind would love it there.”
Fish stopped using her hand as an oar and thrust her fingers deep into her blanket. “I can’t lose you,” she sobbed. “Not here.”
“Not here? Why ever not? What are you talking about, child? Explain yourself at once.”
Fish pointed to the two, spiky hills. “I think we’re here again. Those hills. I’ve seen them before.”
“Hills? What hills? You’ll need to be clearer than that. I’m rather flat, my dear – in case you hadn’t noticed. There is only so much I can see.”
“I remember the hills, from when… from when my dad was… lost. I thought I saw them yesterday, when I was with Drift – but those must have been different hills. The ones where my dad… died… were near the mountain.” She pointed at the jagged rock protruding from the landscape. It was white on white, like torn paper crumpled onto more paper. “Two spiky hills and a mountain. We were here. This is where we went fishing. This is where Dad left me. Where Mum found me.”
Fish began to jump, and Florence rocked in the water. “This is where I wanted to take Drift. This is where we can find answers. I know it. Oh Florence. Thank you.”
Florence steadied herself whilst all the other blocks of ice leapt about. “Decorum, young lady. Always be calm. There is never any reason to leap about like that. Now, hills you say. Are you sure? Spiky hills?”
“Yes, that’s right. Not real spikes, of course. They look like trees. Why?”
With another sharp click, Florence called out to her children. “Come along, Fish,” she said. “Sit in the middle and be quiet.”
“But we have to–“
“SIT DOWN AT ONCE.”
Fish sat down.
“I’m sorry, my dear,” Florence said, regaining her composure a little. “We have to get out of here.”
The girl twisted around, trying to see where the problem might be. “To the Cave of Wonders?” she said.
“No. That will take us too close to them. We have to make a detour. Now stop twisting about so much, I’m trying to swim.”
“But, the hills. The mountains. Drift…”
“Whatever your friend Drift has gotten himself mixed up in is best avoided. Those aren’t hills. And if you saw them yesterday then they are most definitely on to us. And that means trouble.”
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Illustration © Carl Pugh