8. Il ascondo

From the top of the ridge we gaze both ways towards the horizon. Behind us, night drips over the Wilderness like a gush of dark violet shades that flood the endless forests of Elyria.

Far away into the quiet north, snowcapped mountains barely break the line of the horizon like fangs. Until there the forest hums like a dark ocean, a living shroud for the mysteries and magic of the Wild. Once in a while, the forest changes colors and the deep burgundy violet turns to blue, green and black.

Closer to us, the forest we've just escaped hugs the curves of the pastures that cover the top of the ridge, occasionally broken by patches of trees.

The edge of the Wilderness has a mesmerizing beauty, the forest line breaks into increasingly sparse patches amongst which tall grass and flower meadows emerge. In this rose-colored dawn, the forest turns into an abstract painting of blotches and stains over which the artist starts pouring violet ink.

If you turn away from this view, nature provides another ravishing splendor. The last of our suns is now close to the horizon, hiding amongst the leaves of the World Tree. The light that escapes through the branches is has a green-golden hue and I feel it touch my soaking wet clothes without any power to dry them.

Under the shadow of the giant tree, first lights glow from the small dwellings. Maybe one of those lights belongs to my home, maybe grandmother is out by the gate, igniting the lantern on the post, calling me to dinner, unsure if it's one of those nights I return from my wanderings or not. No worries, Nina, I'll be coming home soon.

A little further down the road, to our right, two giant fig bushes unite branches as if a heart is stuck right into the edge of the chasm. Alessandro is behind me, lingering gaze fixed on the view. He's keenly watching the forests that surround the Kraten. His face, both fascinated and concerned, keeps searching for something in the distance. I notice he keeps peeking back over his shoulder, as if he's being followed.

I make way through the branches of the fig that bends over the abyss on the side of the road, bend over and grab the bottom limb. I throw down the sticks I gathered and jump through the small tunnel made of roots and branches. Dodging some new twigs, i scoop down into the trail dug into the rock wall.

-Nora?? Nora where are you??

-Here, down! Just go into the fig bushes, there is a descending...

And there he was tumbling through, disheveled and dirty. I could't contain myself, this made me laugh more than I should've.

-I guess we're both clumsy then. Come up and follow me, the trail goes down a few dirt steps, then down the path we go for a little while. Pick up the fire wood and whatever you foraged and come. The trail is slippery, keep to the left rock wall, I don't want to lose you.

-So you want to keep me?

-Joke aside and go, we have barely another hour of daylight.

The trail is a narrow ditch snaking on the rock wall of the Kraten. To our right, the abyss fills with shadows, yet it becomes less terrifying...for me at least. Over our heads, the overhang reeks of cold, wet earth, we have to bow here and there to avoid getting dirty. Not that we were too clean to begin with...

A half loop around a rocky spur of the slope, then the trail widens into a small cave, like a horizontal crevice.

It's one of my favourite Ascondos, with a magnificent view towards the World Tree and all our scattered dwellings inside the Kraten, a sparkling display of colourful lights once nightfall is here.

Out of the rocky wall we're on, a few thin trails descend to the first row of hills. Briar, shrubs, pastures, rich forest fruit bushes, patches of tall grass and milion flowers....all weaved along with rock spurs, creeks and scree.

Many trek towards the Wilderness on more welcoming trails, reaching the borderline road through those parts of the Kraten that climb smoothly, with barely an effort, through stairways in the cardinal valleys, or through the wide roads of the high villages that cross the ridge with no hindrance.

This northern side however is the playground of the wild, a cascade of natural elements pouring over the edge of the Kraten in a rare display of wonders. The rich plant life matches the variety in landforms, all adding to a complex painting inside which each angle unravels a microcosmos of beauty. Everchanging, evolving, shapeshifting from day to night and one season to the next.

***

Alessandro leans into the wall that marks the entrance in the ascondo, scanning the space, visibily surprised by the view. His gaze carries the joy of an adventurous child who discovers a wonder to match his dreams. He sighs with relief.

I catch his gaze and unbuckle my belt, hang it down the ceiling. My dagger glimmers shortly, then tinkles lightly when it brushes against the buckle of the belt. Weapons away. Your turn.

My eyes are still locked on him as I unbuckle my coat. I turn away and go towards the edge. The valley gets quiet, wind blows cold and the sky clears slowly. It's gonna be a cold night.

I face the ascondo and assess what resources we have to get us through this long, cold May night. We have too little wood gathered for how long we need a fire lit. There's another four logs to sit by the fire, the tracking wands and luckily, some thin branches stuffed into the makeshift pantry in the back. There's where we have a spherepot, a bowl, two cups and a dusty oil lamp.

I go check the wall with a small storage pantry carved into. At eyesight, I stick my hand through a deep dug, narrow shelf filled with straw, pine needles, leaves and dry twigs. Amongst them I wish to find at least one jar. Zacuscă.

A grateful smile widens my lips, grateful for my people, grateful to the world which takes care of anyone in need. I smile thinking of Nina, mi abuela, the one that taught me how to cook zacusca and sent me away with my first batch to leave them in whatever ascondos are dear to me. I have no idea who ate one of mine. In which stories I have unwillingly left my blueprint, the same way I have no idea who to thank for this jar. I an relieved, yet....there is a restless stirr inside me, a vortex of questions that question my insight...Are you truly safe with a stranger? What were you thinking to show him an Ascondo? What does he have to hide? How could I test his intentions? Any me....what am I even feeling? What's with all these unfamiliar, peculiar sensations that suddenly decided today's the time to visit me? What do they want, what does he want, what do I?

I gently caress and rub my temples and eyes, then sit by the fire pit. All this space is no bigger than I would need to dance away a few twirls around the fire. Enough for two or three humans, if we were to sleep in a triangle. Besides, I've rarely come across ascondos to be larger than this. Small and often, a key to a great success.

A silent laugh inside me at the voice of old Solomun, the last architect to oversee their constructions around Elyria. What an honor to have met him. Sol, as Nina called him, he'd jester at any occasion, except when he caught my ear free and tug at it to get my attention, to render his words unforgettable. Your heart is the compass, Nora. Little niña, remember this and it will always guide you towards Light. My heart is the compass. It will get me well through the Night.

***

I have no clue when my trance ended because I woke up on the floor, curled into a fetal position. I stretched a bit and realized how tired my body truly is. Each cell of mine was on a magnetic pull towards the floor, to lay there a little more. Have I spent too much time amongst memories?

All I managed to do was switch sides, close eyes, yet no one could ever prepare me for what I've remembered next. I never thought I could remember myself through the Other's eye.

***