Rosemma blew the dust out of her nose and rubbed her cheek.
The large puppy she dragged in her wake looked up excitedly at the gesture and jumped off to
the side of the trail. Rosemma was pulled off balance, and in irritation yelled at the pup.
"Bad boy, Chomper!" She tugged on the rope attached to his collar, and he sat down in
all out rebellion.
"Rose!" Her grandmother turned and stood staring at both her and the pup in a way that
Rose had seen before.
Why she had insisted that Rosemma go with her on this trip was beyond the girl. Rose hated
walking, and they had been walking for two days. Rose hated being dirty, and they had only
stopped long enough to sleep, eat, pack up and then start walking again.
Her grandmother was viewed as something of an oddity in her camp. And also with deference
by the camp council. She had dragged everyone of Rosemma's siblings on a journey to the ocean
by the time they were fifteen years old.
Rosemma was sixteen this summer, and had hoped Grandmother would forget about her.
She should have known better. Grandmother never forgot anything.
Grandmothers dog, Jack Sharp Teeth walked ahead of their little party, picking out a path
for them to follow. He was a large black dog, with a dense fur that stuck out from his body and
had a tail that curved over his back. He carried one of Grandmothers packs on his back.
He was up to Grandmothers hip tall, and Grandmother was a tall woman. Thin and spare,
her white hair in a long braid down her back, Grandmother moved quickly.
Too quickly for Rosemma, she had to drag on Chomper's rope almost all the time to make
him keep up. Chomper was one of Jack Sharp Teeth's pups. At six months, he showed promise
of growing at least as large as Jack. But at this stage of life, he had none of his sires good sense,
or willingness to work with his human as part of a team.
In fact all he seemed to want to do was pick up evey tiny or big thing that caught his
attention as they walked along. And chew on it, or better yet lay down and chew on it.
Grandmother stood waitng and finally spoke again. "Child, you need to stop yelling at that
pup and tell him when he does good." "All you do is just make him want to get your attention
by mis-behaving, in fact he don't know no different, he thinks your getting excited means you
like what he's doing!"
Rose sniffed. "How do I get him to mind me?"
Grandmother sighed."Talk to him child, just talk to him, make it sweet and happy when
he comes along easy, then tell him to walk on and give a little tug when he don't" "And stop
jerking him so hard too!" Then she turned and set off again at a fast pace. "Now hurry up girl,
we will be there while the sun is still up if you stop taking so long!"
After a while with stops, and starts, and Rosemma almost singing to Chomper when he
came along without grabbing for every little stick on the path, they began to put some distance
under their belts.
At last Grandmother stopped and they sat down to eat some dried meat and bread.
Rosemma thought about whatever they were supposed to be doing and posed a
question to Grandmother.
"Grandmother, what am I going to be seeing when I get to the ocean?" She had been
there only once before two years ago.
"Well, it's not what you are going to be seeing, Rosemma. It's more like what you may
be hearing that is the biggest sign we're looking for. "
"What am I going to be hearing, Grandmother?" Rosemma was not sure about
this at all.
"When you hear it, you will know it, and I will know it, and so will they know it."
"Come on, let's get going, we have a long couple more hours yet." Grandmother got up
abruptly and picked up her pack.
Off they went, Chomper having to get used to behaving all over again, Jack
growling at him every now and then, impatient with his antics.
Then they just walked steady, smelling the salt air the closer they came.
Finally the ocean came into view through the trees, and Rosemma felt a growing excitement.
And a large portion of awe.
"Okay child, mind the path, we go down hill, and it is steep, slippery and filled with
lots of small stones to trip on. Chomper needs to be real close to you, so keep that rope tight
and be firm and let him know you love him, but mean for him to mind."
Slowly with only an minor incident or two with Chomper, Rosemma found herself
standing beside her Grandmother staring at the ocean. And off in the distance, the wreakage of
old buildings, standing like sad lost old folks left behind when the camp went to the sacred
gatherings because they were too crippled to walk that far.
"Grandmother, what is this place? Do people live around here, this is different
from what I remember. Are we at the right spot?" Rosemma felt anxiety rising in her chest.
Grandmother smiled, wrapped an arm around Rosemma and pulled her close.
"No reason to feel afraid, my little Rose. This is a very old place, not bad, no one has lived here
for a very long time. I thought it would be easier for you to hear, if you were to hear them at all.
we will be able to sit close to the edge of the water and in a open spot to watch for them.
But for now, lets go find a place that will be in out of the wind to set up our tent and camp."
Tired, and unsure, but trusting in Grandmother, Rosemma nodded and they
walked on looking for what Grandmother called a high and dry spot, safe away from the tide.
When they found it and finally got the little tent, old and patched, but waterproof
put up, and their bedrolls down. Then the fire was started, and the dried meat, roots and
berries cooking in a pot of water from a little stream close by.
Grandmother began to slowly shift into a relaxed state, saying that Jack would let
them know if any critter, two legged or four came with in a half a mile. Her stern tightly held
face softened and she leaned back just smelling the ocean air.
Rosemma asked a question, not quite sure how to not sound as unlearned as she
knew she really was. She didn't like the histories passed down to the children by those who
had the job of teaching the encampment children. Sitting for two or three hours at a time was
not something she looked forward everyday, and often she daydreamed or if she could tried to
come up with ways not to be there. But her parents were very insistent upon all of their child-
ren learning the histories, along with the how-to's. How to skin a deer, or rabbit, how to catch a
fish, how to weed in the gardens, how to dry meat, how to , the list was endless.
Rose didn't think her head was big enough to hold all of it.
So she decided to probe Grandmother's vast memory as a way to learn what it was
she was sitting here at the ocean listening for.
"Grandmother, the histories say that once there were lots of people who lived all
along the ocean, and lots of roads, lots and lots of all sorts of strange things like those we see
now and then on our trips to the sacred gatherings. The things that are all broken and will
never work again. All those people made them work, and then something happened and so
many died and the world became like it is now."
Grandmother glanced at the pot bubbling gently, and nodded. "Yes, that is true, and
we never talk about what truly happened, we don't know it all, only what we have passed on
to each new bunch of children as they grown. It is the living pledge of all who become one of
of the histories to keep the story as true as possible, so all people will remember."
She yawned and looked at Rosemma. " Child, I know you aren't too wild about
sitting and listening, but when you have little ones of your own, someday, you will care, very
much." "My own grandmother brought me here the first time I hear the singing, and told me
how the world and the way it was once was lost to us. All of us, all people." " And for several
generations, we didn't even have the land here to live on. All who were left had to walk south."
"South, why Grandmother?"
" To escape the deep snows that fell on and on , covering everything, every building
every body of the the dead, and left the living starving, cold and moving to try and find a safe
place." "It was then that those who had the gift heard the singing as they walked along the
shores of the ocean, giving them signs of where to go." "Without it those of us who still live
today wouldn't be here, and we hold those who sang to us in the highest esteem, and honor them
as friends."
"Who are they, Grandmother?" "Why did they sing to us?" Rosemma was
enrapt now.
"You will see, my little Rose, I do so hope. None of your brothers or sisters seem
to have been able to hear them, so I am come at last to you, youngest of my daughter's own."
The large puppy she dragged in her wake looked up excitedly at the gesture and jumped off to
the side of the trail. Rosemma was pulled off balance, and in irritation yelled at the pup.
"Bad boy, Chomper!" She tugged on the rope attached to his collar, and he sat down in
all out rebellion.
"Rose!" Her grandmother turned and stood staring at both her and the pup in a way that
Rose had seen before.
Why she had insisted that Rosemma go with her on this trip was beyond the girl. Rose hated
walking, and they had been walking for two days. Rose hated being dirty, and they had only
stopped long enough to sleep, eat, pack up and then start walking again.
Her grandmother was viewed as something of an oddity in her camp. And also with deference
by the camp council. She had dragged everyone of Rosemma's siblings on a journey to the ocean
by the time they were fifteen years old.
Rosemma was sixteen this summer, and had hoped Grandmother would forget about her.
She should have known better. Grandmother never forgot anything.
Grandmothers dog, Jack Sharp Teeth walked ahead of their little party, picking out a path
for them to follow. He was a large black dog, with a dense fur that stuck out from his body and
had a tail that curved over his back. He carried one of Grandmothers packs on his back.
He was up to Grandmothers hip tall, and Grandmother was a tall woman. Thin and spare,
her white hair in a long braid down her back, Grandmother moved quickly.
Too quickly for Rosemma, she had to drag on Chomper's rope almost all the time to make
him keep up. Chomper was one of Jack Sharp Teeth's pups. At six months, he showed promise
of growing at least as large as Jack. But at this stage of life, he had none of his sires good sense,
or willingness to work with his human as part of a team.
In fact all he seemed to want to do was pick up evey tiny or big thing that caught his
attention as they walked along. And chew on it, or better yet lay down and chew on it.
Grandmother stood waitng and finally spoke again. "Child, you need to stop yelling at that
pup and tell him when he does good." "All you do is just make him want to get your attention
by mis-behaving, in fact he don't know no different, he thinks your getting excited means you
like what he's doing!"
Rose sniffed. "How do I get him to mind me?"
Grandmother sighed."Talk to him child, just talk to him, make it sweet and happy when
he comes along easy, then tell him to walk on and give a little tug when he don't" "And stop
jerking him so hard too!" Then she turned and set off again at a fast pace. "Now hurry up girl,
we will be there while the sun is still up if you stop taking so long!"
After a while with stops, and starts, and Rosemma almost singing to Chomper when he
came along without grabbing for every little stick on the path, they began to put some distance
under their belts.
At last Grandmother stopped and they sat down to eat some dried meat and bread.
Rosemma thought about whatever they were supposed to be doing and posed a
question to Grandmother.
"Grandmother, what am I going to be seeing when I get to the ocean?" She had been
there only once before two years ago.
"Well, it's not what you are going to be seeing, Rosemma. It's more like what you may
be hearing that is the biggest sign we're looking for. "
"What am I going to be hearing, Grandmother?" Rosemma was not sure about
this at all.
"When you hear it, you will know it, and I will know it, and so will they know it."
"Come on, let's get going, we have a long couple more hours yet." Grandmother got up
abruptly and picked up her pack.
Off they went, Chomper having to get used to behaving all over again, Jack
growling at him every now and then, impatient with his antics.
Then they just walked steady, smelling the salt air the closer they came.
Finally the ocean came into view through the trees, and Rosemma felt a growing excitement.
And a large portion of awe.
"Okay child, mind the path, we go down hill, and it is steep, slippery and filled with
lots of small stones to trip on. Chomper needs to be real close to you, so keep that rope tight
and be firm and let him know you love him, but mean for him to mind."
Slowly with only an minor incident or two with Chomper, Rosemma found herself
standing beside her Grandmother staring at the ocean. And off in the distance, the wreakage of
old buildings, standing like sad lost old folks left behind when the camp went to the sacred
gatherings because they were too crippled to walk that far.
"Grandmother, what is this place? Do people live around here, this is different
from what I remember. Are we at the right spot?" Rosemma felt anxiety rising in her chest.
Grandmother smiled, wrapped an arm around Rosemma and pulled her close.
"No reason to feel afraid, my little Rose. This is a very old place, not bad, no one has lived here
for a very long time. I thought it would be easier for you to hear, if you were to hear them at all.
we will be able to sit close to the edge of the water and in a open spot to watch for them.
But for now, lets go find a place that will be in out of the wind to set up our tent and camp."
Tired, and unsure, but trusting in Grandmother, Rosemma nodded and they
walked on looking for what Grandmother called a high and dry spot, safe away from the tide.
When they found it and finally got the little tent, old and patched, but waterproof
put up, and their bedrolls down. Then the fire was started, and the dried meat, roots and
berries cooking in a pot of water from a little stream close by.
Grandmother began to slowly shift into a relaxed state, saying that Jack would let
them know if any critter, two legged or four came with in a half a mile. Her stern tightly held
face softened and she leaned back just smelling the ocean air.
Rosemma asked a question, not quite sure how to not sound as unlearned as she
knew she really was. She didn't like the histories passed down to the children by those who
had the job of teaching the encampment children. Sitting for two or three hours at a time was
not something she looked forward everyday, and often she daydreamed or if she could tried to
come up with ways not to be there. But her parents were very insistent upon all of their child-
ren learning the histories, along with the how-to's. How to skin a deer, or rabbit, how to catch a
fish, how to weed in the gardens, how to dry meat, how to , the list was endless.
Rose didn't think her head was big enough to hold all of it.
So she decided to probe Grandmother's vast memory as a way to learn what it was
she was sitting here at the ocean listening for.
"Grandmother, the histories say that once there were lots of people who lived all
along the ocean, and lots of roads, lots and lots of all sorts of strange things like those we see
now and then on our trips to the sacred gatherings. The things that are all broken and will
never work again. All those people made them work, and then something happened and so
many died and the world became like it is now."
Grandmother glanced at the pot bubbling gently, and nodded. "Yes, that is true, and
we never talk about what truly happened, we don't know it all, only what we have passed on
to each new bunch of children as they grown. It is the living pledge of all who become one of
of the histories to keep the story as true as possible, so all people will remember."
She yawned and looked at Rosemma. " Child, I know you aren't too wild about
sitting and listening, but when you have little ones of your own, someday, you will care, very
much." "My own grandmother brought me here the first time I hear the singing, and told me
how the world and the way it was once was lost to us. All of us, all people." " And for several
generations, we didn't even have the land here to live on. All who were left had to walk south."
"South, why Grandmother?"
" To escape the deep snows that fell on and on , covering everything, every building
every body of the the dead, and left the living starving, cold and moving to try and find a safe
place." "It was then that those who had the gift heard the singing as they walked along the
shores of the ocean, giving them signs of where to go." "Without it those of us who still live
today wouldn't be here, and we hold those who sang to us in the highest esteem, and honor them
as friends."
"Who are they, Grandmother?" "Why did they sing to us?" Rosemma was
enrapt now.
"You will see, my little Rose, I do so hope. None of your brothers or sisters seem
to have been able to hear them, so I am come at last to you, youngest of my daughter's own."
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