The Sārts Berries (Part One)

Prompt: Hope  |  Genre: Fantasy  |  Word count: 500 words

Note: This is Part One of an ongoing series I've been writing.

Raven swooped low over the tree stumps. Black, scorched dirt drifted up as his wings flapped. He cocked his head to hear the patter of small game. All he could hear was the swish of his flight. He flapped harder and rose high above.

He looked up. The dark heavy-laden clouds bore down upon him. Ahead, all he could see was black. The bogs, the dried up river, the dead land. He began to lose altitude as his wings struggled to keep up. He flapped harder but it didn’t help.

He turned his head to look back from where he had come.

Home.

He breathed deeply while his eyes closed on their own. His eyes moved under its lids, remembering, seeing. He breathed again and turned his head in the opposite direction. He reopened his eyes. He flapped his wings effortlessly and surged forward.

* * *

Einarr ploughed hard. The earth cracked. A drop of sweat fell from his forehead. The moment it touched the ground, it hissed into steam.

Einarr leaned down against his plough.

‘It’s no use, Runa,” he said, without turning. “It’s dead. Everything is dead.”

His wife came forward to stand before him, “No, everything is not dead. Look what I found.”

Einarr looked up to see her holding a small basket. Sārts berries!

He straightened up, his eyes bright, “Where did you find them?”

“Does it really matter? It’s the first time...”

“Runa”, he warned.

She shifted, not meeting his eyes, “I went looking for them down the river.”

“The river?!”, Einarr dropped his plough and held his wife by her shoulders. He frantically looked her all over, “Were you hurt?”

“No. What could hurt me? As you’ve said before, everything is dead”, she said quietly.

Einarr stilled. He bent down to look into her eyes. They were full. He pulled her close, cradling her head against his chest, “Oh my sweetheart.”

They stood there like that for a while until she exclaimed, “Oh the berries!”

He ploughed and she planted. Until all the berries were in the ground.

“What about water?”

“We’d just have to share, my dear,” he said as he hugged her to his side.

They looked for a little while, each caught up in their thoughts, until they walked back to their little house. As they closed the little thatched door, they didn’t hear the flapping wings of a black bird.

* * *

Raven saw the man and woman walk back to their house. Without water, the berries had no hope. But it wasn’t water they needed anyway.

He flew up to the river the woman had mentioned. He scanned the river bank until he finally found them. Right at the end, more than five miles from where the house was, in a small shaded corner, was a small plant with red, juicy berries. He hopped closer to the plant and plucked a berry off it.

His eyes snapped open. It tasted just like those back home.

He smiled.