The Frozen Plains

PART ONE

“I don't think we're going to get anything else tonight.” said Angele,

climbing down from the rock and handing the cardan to Lana who sighed and put the lifeless little body into the bag.

“How much do you think we'll get?” 
“I'd say about fifty six centros perhaps.” 
“Well, let's get back. We don't want to be out after nine.” 
They began to climb down the hill to a red and white yurt just outside the camp. Angele and Lana lived alone, getting by on the money they earned from selling coffee, cardan skins and pies (a cardan is a small animal which lives on and around the frozen plains, has beautiful long, white, brown, black or golden fur and tastes like nondescript stew when cooked). Every morning the girls could be seen at their stall where they would stay cooking pies and coffee until 3 pm when they returned to their yurt. After preparing the cardan skins for sale the next day, they went out hunting until 8:30 pm. On their return they would skin the cardans they had killed, cook the meat and roll out pastry for the pies.

Angele had lately become engaged to Ralf, another, more successful hunter who had his own herd of bahrams, an animal like a sheep but larger which was farmed for milk and wool.

Ralf lived with his mother Zara in a brown and blue yurt near the middle of the camp

and was a close friend to Mirabell, one of the higher class yurt-owners who lived with his wife Iona.

He had a herd of bahrams and a flock of whills, a large kind of pigeon, which earned him a small fortune each week with their eggs, meat and feathers.

He even had the money to buy an extra powerful motorised sled to haul his yurt and belongings from one campsite to another when everyone else had to do it themselves or with the help of their friends. Every few months or so gangs of robbers would come down from the mountains on raids to carry away livestock and sometimes small children. But other than that everything went well in the frozen plains camp.

“Evening Lana, evening Angele.” 
“Good evening Mirabell. Where are you going?” asked Lana, they had reached their yurt where they encountered Mirabell leaving the camp. 
“I'm off to find one of my bahrams who's gotten loose.” 
“Good luck sir.” said Angele, nodding goodbye. Mirabell was soon lost to view in the gloom. As they prepared for bed that night Angele was strangely quiet. She would marry Ralf tomorrow and her life would change completely. She didn't realise how completely. There would be no more sitting out in the small, draughty stall dealing with customers. Ralf would do all the selling. She would go hunting with him, help haul the yurt and he might even teach her how to drive his quad bike to herd the bahrams when they moved next. Something thumped against the wall of the yurt. Angele and Lana jumped and looked at each other. Robbers? No, they never bumped into yurts and it wasn't time yet anyway. They rushed outside and dimly distinguished in the gloom a figure lying motionless on the ground not far from their boots which they had forgotten to take inside. 
“Oh no!” said Lana. 
“I'll get Ralf.” said Angele.

When Ralf came it was revealed that the figure was a man in foot traveling gear without a gun. He was obviously on the long march to the hidden city. There was a nasty looking cut on one side of his head and his arm had been hit by a hand thrown missile. He had dark hair and his eyes were tight shut. They carried him to Ralf's yurt where Zara took care of him with Lana's help.

He said his name was Jermaine.

Ralf and Angele were married the next day and the camp moved to new territory. Mirabell still had not returned from his search for the bahram but no notice was taken of it except by Ralf who remarked that it was strange for him to take so long since bahrams never strayed very far. The new couple were happy as possible for exactly two weeks and three days. Then everything went wrong. Jermaine was indeed on the long march and had been attacked by three big men who stole his pack. Before they could steal anything else he had raced for the camp but had been hit by one of their missiles and tripped over some boots outside the girls' yurt.

After listening to him talk about the long march for a while Jermaine's enthusiasm began to rub off on Lana. One evening she came over to Angele and Ralf's yurt for tea. 
“Jermaine's been telling me what it's like on the long march and he asked me to go with him when he's better. I want to go but I wanted to ask your advice.” she said while they were eating. Ralf and Angele looked at each other, then at Lana. The long march was a long and dangerous road and many travelers did not survive it. Lana and Angele were not sisters or blood relations of any kind but they loved each other just as much as if they were. Like many others in the camp, they were orphans taken in by members of the young hunters organisation until they were old enough to take care of themselves. This love built up over years of living together spurred Angele to do something she would regret for the rest of her life. “We'll go with you.” 
“What?” said Lana, aghast.
“We're going with you Lana.” 
Ralf started up, “Angele-” 
“We're not going to let you go by yourself with a stranger.”
“Angele, it could take years.” 
“I don't care how long it takes. If you don't go with me I don't care, I'm going, whatever you say.” 
“Angele and Lana, please reconsider.” 
Ralf looked pleadingly at Angele. "I wish Mirabell was here, he could talk some sense into you both" he said unhappily.
“Maybe I shouldn't go.” said Lana, staring down uncomfortably at her plate. 
“You should go Lana. I'm going with you.” 
“Angele.” 
“I am.” Angele stood up and left the yurt.