The Burrow

Chapter 1 A long, long time ago, in a land forgotten before history began, the world was a vastly different place. Twin moons gazed down upon a planet of vast green forests and immense blue oceans. The few humans that inhabited the planet lived in isolated groups, in makeshift shelters, or in caves or trees. A few of their number led solitary lives, roaming the wilderness and quite content to do so. They were intelligent beings, though still in touch with their primal urges and animal desires. They existed in harmony with nature, with no thought to alter or tame the environment as later civilisations would do. As a consequence, agriculture and farming were concepts that had never occurred to even the most forward-thinking of individuals. The land was bountiful and provided everything needed to survive and thrive. Living simply meant they had no need for clothing, certainly not for reasons of modesty. The naked form was considered a thing of beauty, a thing to be admired and appreciated. Although for practical reasons, a cloak of deer skin was occasionally required for the period approaching the rainy season. The remainder of the time, the weather was hot enough to remain naked. Any type of cover would not only be uncomfortable in the tropical temperatures, but also a hindrance when it came to hunting, and other such strenuous activities. There were two distinct seasons. A long, tropical summer followed by a brief period of transitional weather, marked by increased humidity, cooler nights, and sudden rainstorms. A relatively short rainy season would follow. During this brief respite from the constant heat, the land would be drenched. Streams and rivers would break their banks, and the lowlands would be flooded. Where there had once been sweeping plains of grass, there would be lakes, and lurking within, a terror known as the Grim. Adama had never seen one himself, but he’d been told they rose up from the water to heights of eight or nine feet. Their green-black bodies were covered in algae, and slime oozed from their slender forms. They had no eyes or teeth, just watery, black cavities. Should some hapless man, woman, or child encounter one of these monsters from the netherworld, the Grim would draw the life force, the very spiritual essence, from them, inhaling it and growing stronger because of it. Such was their hunger that anyone coming across the withered remains of one of their victims might mistake it for no more than a collection of old sticks. As a solution to the presence of the Grim during the rainy season, humans had taken to hibernating. They dug burrows in the earth, lined them with rocks or wood, then waterproofed them using a combination of mud, sand, and straw. A laborious undertaking, but once it had been constructed, it would last many summers. The burrow was then filled with dry grass, animal skins, and any other materials they could find that would keep away the chill of winter. While rain poured almost constantly from skies of grey cloud, the human population entered a period of deep sleep, aided by the mild toxins found in the leaves of the macan tree. When chewed, the leaves induced a state not dissimilar to death. The proteins contained within a single leaf were enough to slow the heart to an undetectable pace, and reduce brain activity to a point where the person was incapable of doing anything but remain breathing. It was customary to take a supply of leaves into the burrow, for often a person would wake up early, and without food or water, nor a place to purge (a term used to mean “emptying the bowels and the bladder”), a person wouldn’t be able to survive in their burrow for long without having to unseal the entrance and risk the ravages of the rainy season, and the Grim. It was in Adama’s twenty-fifth summer he encountered a traveller crossing the grasslands, heading south. The man was only a little older than Adama, but had travelled widely. At the beginning of their conversation, he entertained Adama with stories of faraway places and the humans who lived there, but he was also the bearer of disturbing news. “I’ve heard it many times now,” said the traveller. “Somehow they’ve found a way to detect burrows.” “The Grim?” “This past spring, many emerged from their burrows to find other lower-lying burrows had been destroyed, and their occupants sucked dry.” The traveller shook his head and sighed. “With the rainy season so close, there’s a lot of panic. Old burrows can no longer be used with confidence. People don’t necessarily have many options. I predict a mass exodus to the mountains, though competition for burrow sites will be fierce.” Adama experienced only a flash of alarm. For while he was upset and troubled by the loss of life, he knew exactly where he was going to hibernate. There was a large cave nearby that opened out of the ground like a giant yawn. It went back further than he’d ever gone, but he didn’t need to explore it any more than he had. To one side was a narrow ledge, quite high up and accessed by a tumble of rocks at the far end. Back along the ledge, towards the front of the cave, was a small, enclosed space, hollowed out by millennia of water passing through it from above. There was no longer any water. The space was as dry as a bone. The walls of the ovoid cavity had been worn smooth by the action of the liquid, and aside from a small opening, which was used to enter the space, there was a narrow vent to connect it to the outside world, thus providing oxygen without letting in anything unwanted. Adama had insulated the burrow with animal skins, laying them fur-side up over the floor of the hollow, and around the bottom edges, before carrying armful after armful of dead, dry grass up what he referred to as the “rock ladder,” along the ledge and into the cavity. He stuffed it full, knowing it would soon get flattened. Finally, he replaced the double bearskin “pocket.” The pocket was made from two bear skins roughly sewn together with sinew to form an open-ended sleeping bag. It kept him warm to the point of being a little hot, perfect for the rainy season. He had killed only one of the beasts himself, and only after it had charged him for trespassing into a patch of berries it had decided was his. He’d launched his spear with a strength only terror can produce, and felled the beast instantly. The other fur he’d taken from a bear he’d found recently perished in the forest. Based on its bloody wounds, Adama surmised the bear had succumbed to injuries inflicted by another of his kind. It would have been a shame to let the fur go to waste. Using the sharp edge of a flint tool, one of many he kept in the cave, he’d relieved the animal of its hide and lugged the bloody pelt to the stream to wash it. The final addition to his burrow, before it was completely ready for hibernation, was the plug for the entrance. He’d found a suitable rock, which after a bit of chipping here and there, fitted perfectly into the hole. He’d made some adjustments to the rock around the entrance so he could fit the stone into the space, and with a slight clockwise twist, secure it against any outside intrusion. A flap of deer skin hung over the plug. What made the burrow even more perfect was the fact it was inside the cave, which itself was well above any waterline. That meant the Grim couldn’t get to him even if they wanted to. Despite their newly acquired skill for detecting hibernating humans, their movements were restricted to the water. They were incapable of walking on dry earth and were, therefore, a problem confined solely to the rainy season. After bidding goodbye to the traveller, and wishing him well, Adama went in search of something to eat. He was suddenly in the mood for berries.