The Blood-Red River

The Blood-Red River is Chapter 11 of How I Met My Echo On Big Wolf Cliff

The vine dissolves under her fingertips. Liz spins around. Jenny’s cabin and the bright glade are gone. She hasn’t walked far enough for them to be completely out of sight, so it must be magic. With each step, the path closes in behind her. Heavy pine branches sag low and new shoots spring up, filling in the gaps from below.

Liz wasn’t supposed to leave the steps and is now alone in Jenny's magical forest. The same magical forest that scared the wits out of her mom. A bright chirp sounds above her. Well, she’s not completely alone. Her rainbow flock hasn't abandoned her.

“Okay, birds, which way do I go?”

The birds chirp madly at each other. A dozen little heads bob this way and that. Liz only has a small family, so she doesn’t have much experience with family squabbles. However, it seems they’re in a colossal disagreement. One dives out one way or the other and, like a boomerang, returns to its perch, shaking its head and kicking the buds along the branch.

Liz pops her middle nail into her mouth, chewing the skin along the edge of the nail. She’s hooped. Her tour guides don’t even know where she’s supposed to go.

The tiny yellow one drops to her shoulder and rubs its soft down cheek along her neck as it slips by, hiding in her helmet of curls. She slides a finger along its smooth head, and it pushes into her stroke. A bright blue bird swoops around Liz, cuddling into the yellow one, and like a little kitten’s purr, their bodies vibrate, creating a static that raises her hair. The others continue to squabble, the air turning around them in little cyclones.

Liz turns away from the cacophony to decide her path. She isn't leaving her life in the hands of disagreeable birds. The right fork is dark but dry, with a floor of short, crunchy reindeer moss, abruptly jarring to the left, making what she can see very brief. To the left, it’s brighter, and the path is made of soft, pale sand. Scraggly wildflowers in tall bunches lean this way and that in the crotch of that path and another that leads straight up from where she stands. If she chooses that trail, it will require much more effort. Plus, isn’t the house at the top of the cliff already? It could be a trick.

So, her three choices are a dark, hidden path, a bright sandy trail, or a steep-sloping Canadian Shield. When there’s a choice to be made, you always walk in the light. Liz takes a confident step onto the sand. The birds behind her shriek and caw, but she continues. The love birds in their hair nest continue their swooning.

A flash of red above her grabs her interest away from the path. Sparsely leaved trees bend above her on narrow trunks, heavily laden with large red berries. The trees wave in the breeze, and the berries paint streaks of red in the sky. The wind picks up, the canopy of trees swirls, and the streaks of red berries spread out until the sky is bright red like fresh blood.

Liz’s legs strain. Why is it so much work to move forward? Ripping her gaze from the bloody sky, she finds she’s sunk calf-deep in the sand. The trail ahead looks perfectly normal. If she reverses, could she walk out the way she came? She swivels around, sinking to her knees.

Shoot. She freezes.

“Birds, what do I do?” Liz whispers, afraid to even speak.

The lovebirds peek from their nest as if they understand. The blue one hops onto Liz’s shoulder, chirping frantically, scolding her like she were his child. The blue turns to the yellow; they chirp back and forth while Liz stays perfectly still.

Her hair stirs with renewed intensity. The yellow bird hops onto her forehead and tips over, staring into her eyes. A tiny engine inside it whirs to life—her hair lifts and golden light floods her vision. Then, stillness.

The bird chirps, waiting. Liz doesn't move. The sweet one shakes its head, engine revving once more. Light pours down again—then vanishes.

Still, Liz remains frozen.

With a little sigh, the bird dives onto her chest. It vibrates, triggering something within her. A tingling spreads upward. The purring stops. The yellow bird's gaze flicks up while the blue one watches quietly from Liz's shoulder.

What a dunce. She’s expected to repeat what she did at the waterfall—but since she has no idea how, she’s stuck—literally. Her feet have become part of the earth.

Both birds perch on her collarbone and begin to hum. Vibrations pulse through her chest, rattling her ribs. Her insides churn. Prickles creep across her skin, just like with Jenny—except there’s no mist here, no water bubbles.

She exhales sharply. Her thighs sink into the sand. The prickles trail up her neck, dancing along her jaw.

A bubble of light swells around her and the birds. Her hair lifts, threading into the bubble’s membrane. Her breath shifts. Warmth fills her lungs and a golden air releases from her pores. Energy whirls in her gut. Her feet feel light.

She rises from the sand.

The birds chirp with delight. She did it—this time without Jenny.

Liz can fly on her own.

She floats up towards the swirling red breeze. As she nears, it's no breeze but a swirling, churning river of berry juice—exactly like blood. The top of the bubble pierces the red liquid air and drips down the bubble. Her stomach twists, just like it had above the waterfall. The bubble continues to rise into the red river. She bobs along with the flow, riding the waves. Soon, she can’t see a thing, completely encased in the blood-red air currents.

Liz’s anxiety rises along with the birds swooping around her body as she clings to the strange waxy bubble membrane, unable to get a good grip. The bubble slides down a wave, and she flops onto her bottom as it takes a hard right. She must get out of the river. How did she do it before?

She burped, but will it work here? She pushes air up her chest, and when it releases, it’s little more than a hiccup, but the bubble drops a couple of feet.

It will work!

Liz gulps a mouthful of air to activate a larger burp, and the bubble rises. Shoot! She must not swallow any of this golden air. The lovebirds settle onto her shoulder, and their beady eyes urge her on. She reaches into the pit of her stomach like she had with Jenny, and finds the warm core quickly this time. She locks onto it with her mind and urges it up through her body. As it does, the bubble floats down gently like an elevator.

The birds chirp in a cheery tone. Finally, the dumb human has figured out how it works here.

Liz regains her bearings, and once she discerns which way is up, she purses her lips and blows out the energy. The elevator descends smoothly and steadily. Her toes touch the earth, bursting the bubble, and the red juice covers her from head to toe. She is free yet blinded.

The birds squawk their apparent disgust beneath her hair. At least they have a nest to hide in. She wipes the juice from her eyes, and a vast world unfolds. She stands on the cliff edge, teetering high above a dark lake. She steps back, and her ankle rolls on a stone. Her body wavers back and forth as she flops her arms like a penguin. She leans back, willing herself not to fall. She has great balance and feels steadier with each second.

Something brushes against her toe. Her gaze drops to a centipede as large as a cat slipping past her foot.

She screams.

The birds bolt from her hair as she drops from the precipice, plummeting to the dark water below.