2. Over the Next Hill (A UFO Story) by Denise Felt 2011 Chapter 1 “First impressions?” Mila asked him as he stood taking in their surroundings. Straker turned from the view to meet her unusual eyes. “It’s so unspoiled,” he said almost in a whisper. “As if no one had ever been here before.” His gaze went back to the multitude of trees all around them, trying to identify each different type of tree he saw. But he couldn’t. They were far too varied to categorize them all. Mila grinned. “Were you expecting a city perhaps?” “Yes, I suppose I was,” he admitted ruefully. She shook her head. “There are no cities on Uphoria.” “None at all?” he asked, quite startled. “We have villages. But something like a city on Earth? No, we have none of that here. Why would we want it?” He blinked at her for a moment, not having considered how another civilization might see an Earthman’s idea of progress. Then he nodded. “I see. Uphorians prefer a more primitive way of life.” “Primitive?” she asked with a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. “If you say so.” She headed down a vague path through the underbrush. “Shall we?” “Oh – yes,” he said, turning away from the view to follow her. Then he gasped, going still as the scenery changed around him. He looked at her in shock. “Did I do that?” She grinned at his alarm. “Possibly.” All the trees now wore autumnal colors, blazing with reds, ochres, and yellows instead of their normal varied green tones. Straker swallowed. “Um – I was just wondering what it might look like in the fall here. It was just an idle thought. Didn’t you say it had to be a strong thought to have an effect?” Mila chuckled. “Not always. You see, Uphorian flora likes to show off.” “Oh.” He searched the surrounding trees. “You mean, they did it because they wanted to?” “Exactly.” He followed her under the canopy of trees that covered the path. “Have I messed up their seasons?” “No. They’ll go back to their normal look once we’re out of sight. They just wanted to give you a show.” “Are they sentient then?” he asked a trifle anxiously. Mila grinned at him. “As sentient as trees can be,” she answered cryptically, then led the way through the woods. * * * They left the trees after a few hours and crossed the brow of a hill. In the valley below, Straker could see a clear stream running through a meadow thick with flowers. Once more, his analytical mind tried to determine the different types of flowers he saw as they descended the hill, but they didn’t seem to follow the patterns of growth found on Earth. Instead of growing in patches of the same type of blossoms, they alternated species with every flower, so that he quickly lost count of the myriad kinds of blooms to be seen. In spite of the chaos, however, the meadow had a cohesiveness to it that defied explanation. It was almost as if there was an actual pattern to the flowers’ growth, if only he had the insight to grasp it. Mila stopped at the water’s edge and took a long drink from her cupped hands. Straker knelt and did the same, surprised at the sweetness of the water’s taste. He began to feel hungry once his thirst was quenched, and he wondered how soon they would come upon some sign of civilization. Before they left the stream, Mila took another handful of water and sprinkled it among the flowers on the bank. He almost asked her why, but held back. The quiet gesture had seemed almost religious in its execution, and he didn’t want to offend. They soon entered another grove of trees beyond the meadow, but this time he knew what kinds of trees they were. He reached up and snagged a large red apple from a low-lying branch, although he waited until Mila had done it first before he followed her example. They munched companionably as they walked, the tart taste of the apple strong on his tongue as was the sharp scent of fruit in his nostrils. There was nothing quite like the taste of wild apples. He suddenly remembered climbing trees as a boy to get to the riper ones near the top. How exhilarating those days had been when he’d been so much a part of the world around him! A little of that freedom from all constraints lightened his eyes as he walked, and Mila smiled to see it. Later they came upon a beehive in the hollow of a tree. “Would you like some honey?” she asked him. They’d spent most of the day munching on whatever came to hand as they journeyed; apples and berries, even nuts. Honey sounded wonderful, but he eyed the bees buzzing around the hive cautiously. “Will they sting us?” She winked at him. “Not if we bless them first. Come.” She led him to a spot near the tree, but away from the busy insects. She knelt on the grass, placing her palms onto the ground. Straker did likewise, then looked at her for direction. “Now,” she said. “Let your mind think of flowers. Beautiful pollen-filled flowers to make any bee drunk with happiness.” He understood immediately what she wanted and let his mind out of the tight grip he had placed upon it. Instantly under his hand shoots appeared, growing swiftly into stemmed buds which opened to reveal bright chrysanthemums in varying shades of red and pink. Next to them he saw Mila’s flowers, tender tulips with large dusty stamens. They grinned at each other over the blooms, then stood and waited. Within minutes most of the bees had left the tree to check out the flowers. Mila walked over to the hive and broke off a piece of honeycomb for him, handing it to him before getting one for herself. They feasted on the luscious nectar as they continued on their way, eventually finding another stream to wash off their sticky hands. Straker didn’t think he had ever eaten anything so delicious as that bartered honeycomb, and he began to have an inkling why the Uphorians didn’t need cities to be content. When the daylight began to fade, they rested on a hillside under the shelter of a few trees. Mila ground some grain using a large flat rock while Straker scouted for fallen tree limbs for a fire. He made her laugh by using his lighter to start the fire, and he realized ruefully that she had expected him to wish it to burn. Since that was an intriguing idea, he decided that the next time, he would definitely do it the Uphorian way. They covered the dough she made with large leaves and set it on the ashes to cook, then gathered blueberries from the bushes to nibble on until the bread was done. “May I ask you something?” he said as they sat by the fire. “Of course.” “On Uphoria, you can do anything you want, right? Go anywhere? Have anything?” “Within reason,” she said, checking the bread to see if it was cooked. She took it off the ashes and handed him one. Then she peeled back the leaves and took a bite of hers. He lost track of his question when he tried his own bread. She’d added herbs to the dough, and the flavor was like nothing he had ever tasted before. He wondered suddenly if manna had been as wonderful as this bread, and thought that it was a shame that he wouldn’t be able to duplicate it once he got back home. Only after he had finished the small loaf was he reminded of his question. He said, “Then why didn’t we just go straight to see Grandmother Conaawa when we got here? Why haven’t we reached her yet?” She nibbled her bread, her golden eyes twinkling in the firelight. “Are you in a hurry?” He blinked at her in surprise. “Well – no. I guess not. You said that we would return to Earth right after we left.” “That’s right.” “So, I guess there’s no rush,” he said hesitantly. She grinned. “Life is a journey, Mr. Straker. If you rush from birth to death, what have you learned?” His eyes searched hers for a moment. “Probably not a lot,” he admitted. “Is that what this is? A journey?” She shook her head at him, then sprinkled the last few crumbs of her bread onto the fire. Sitting back, she brushed her hands clear of crumbs and asked quizzically, “Are you alive?” “Yes.” “Then it’s a journey.” He sat back, finally grasping what she was saying. “I see.” He looked around them, noticing the richness of the sunset beyond the next hill and the way the trees took on intriguing shapes as the shadows drew close in the waning light. Uphoria was similar to Earth in so many ways that it was easy to forget that he didn’t have to account for every minute of his time here. He could take as much time as he wanted searching for his family, and his work back home wouldn’t suffer for it. It was almost like a small vacation, one that he hadn’t been forced to clear with Gen. Henderson first. “May I ask you something, Mr. Straker?” “Sure.” “When was the last time you relaxed?” He smiled wryly. “I think I was ten,” he said. She grinned. “Then I’d say that you were due.” He sighed and leaned back on his arms, meeting her eyes across the fire. “I think you’re right. Thank you for today, Miss Stronghurst. I’ve enjoyed myself very much.” “In that case,” she said, her hand fussing with her short hair to cover her blush, “maybe you should call me Mila.” “Perhaps I should.” * * * They doused the fire before settling onto the springy grass to sleep. Mila rolled her sweater into a makeshift pillow, and Straker did the same with his jacket. “Will we be safe out in the open?” he asked her as he lay on his side, barely able to discern her outline in the darkness. His voice had a richness to it that the night only enhanced, and Mila had to suppress a thrilling shiver before answering him. “Of course. There are no vicious beasts on Uphoria. We live in harmony with the animals, so they have no need to attack us.” “Not even for food?” “No. No one on Uphoria is a predator, Mr. Straker. Including the animals.” He thought about that for a while. Then he said, “I like your planet, Mila.” “It’s your planet too, you know.” He sighed. “I’m still getting used to that idea.” He turned onto his back and looked up at the stars. After several minutes he said quietly, “Now I know I’m not on Earth. All day long it’s been as though we were walking through a park – a really big and beautiful park. But it still felt like Earth for the most part. But this – I don’t recognize any of these constellations. And it’s finally sinking in that I’m no longer on Earth. How’s that for slow-witted?” She chuckled at his dry tone. “I told you. There are places on Earth that are similar to Uphoria. Naturally you wouldn’t feel like you were on an alien planet as long as your surroundings were somewhat similar to what you know.” She scooted a little closer to him on the grass, lifting a hand to point to a set of stars. “There’s Claron, the cheetah. See how fast he runs across the sky?” Straker followed her fingers and saw the vague shape of a running cheetah in the stars overhead. “He looks like he’s in quite a hurry.” “He is. He fears the darkness, so he races to reach the morning sun.” “Does he ever reach it?” he asked, intrigued by this glimpse into their mythology. “Ah!” she said mysteriously. “That depends on who is telling the tale.” Her arm shifted. “And there is Mothal, the king of the elephants.” When he saw it, he nearly gasped, the pattern was so clear. “His trunk is raised,” he said in wonder. “Yes. He is trumpeting to all his people to enjoy every moment, because life is precious and not to be wasted.” He raised one hand and traced a few stars. “Are these his tusks?” “They are. You have a good eye. They proclaim his sovereignty and remind us that his warning is not to be taken lightly.” “And what about this long string of stars?” he asked. “Is it a snake?” Mila chuckled. “No, no, Mr. Straker! How could you? He would be so offended! That is Borneth, the serpent of the deep. See that cluster of stars at his head? If you squint, you can almost see his headdress of tentacles and make out his long sharp fangs.” He pondered the image for a minute. “He doesn’t seem very friendly.” “He’s not. He is angry at the world and wants only to devour everything he sees. But his place is fixed in the heavens, so he cannot move to attack. Instead, he bares his teeth and strikes a frightening pose, trying to scare those on the ground into doing his bidding.” “Does it work?” She gave him a smile in the darkness. “Yes, indeed. But not the way he hopes. You see, parents tell their children of Borneth, so that they learn not to take his example and be destructive. You’d be surprised what a good object lesson like him can do for correcting poor behavior.” He found himself chuckling. “My mother used to threaten me with the bogeyman, who always seemed to know when I’d done something bad.” “Were you bad as a boy?” she asked. “You don’t strike me as someone who was.” He shrugged. “I never meant to be. But somehow trouble seemed to find me anyway.” Mila laughed. “A victim of circumstance! You poor dear. I suppose you were very curious and got into places you shouldn’t.” He gave a sigh. “You sound almost as though you were there.” “Oh, no!” she said. “But I have brothers. And I have found that there is always one in every family like that. And it’s usually a boy.” “I was an only child, so I guess there was no chance of my parents getting away from that problem,” he said wryly. Then he added softly, “Except . . .” “That you may have siblings after all,” she finished for him. “We will find your family for you, Mr. Straker. I have faith in Grandmother Conaawa. She will be able to help us.” “I hope she can,” he said with a sigh and turned onto his side to go to sleep. After several minutes of silence, she said, “Mr. Straker. There is something we need to do before you sleep.” He turned back to her. “What is that?” “You have done remarkably well keeping control of your thoughts. And I knew you would. But once you lose consciousness . . .” “I’ll lose my grip on my thoughts,” he finished for her. “Yes,” she said on a sigh, glad that he understood. He thought of what his nightmares usually consisted of, and said anxiously, “How do we stop that from happening?” “There is a way to bind up your mind,” she said. “It’s not painful, but I’ve been told that it can feel a bit confining.” “Okay,” he said cautiously. “It will only be in effect while you are unconscious,” she said, coming closer and laying her hands on either side of his face. “When you wake, the geas will lift from you.” “What do I need to do?” “Relax,” she said. “And open your mind to me. I promise that I will not harm you.” He considered his options. If he did as she asked, he would be putting himself in a position of vulnerability that was unprecedented in his experience. He could just imagine what Alec would say about it. However, if he didn’t allow her to help him, there was no telling how horrific the night would become once his worst nightmares took shape in reality. “Very well,” he said at last and tried to loosen his hold on his mind. Nothing seemed to be happening for a while, then he felt it – a slight questing thought. It was so alien to him that he had to forcibly stop himself from shoving it out of his mind. But as he relaxed, he realized that it seemed alien because it was feminine in nature. How odd that he could tell the gender of the one touching his mind! As he took deep breaths, forcing himself not to panic, he could feel her twining the thought around his mind, weaving it together so that it was almost like a soft blanket by the time she was done. His mind felt cocooned and slightly hazy, but not unpleasantly so. When he opened his eyes, she lowered her hands and smiled tentatively at him. “How do you feel?” “Fine,” he answered. “It doesn’t feel that bad actually.” “Good,” she said, clearly relieved. He was struck by a thought. “How often have you done that?” “Counting tonight?” she asked. “Yes.” “Once.” His breath caught. “I see. I guess I’m glad you had an idea what you were doing.” She grimaced. “It’s amazing how clearly the training comes back when you need it.” She settled back onto the ground and said, “Good night, Mr. Straker.” “Good night, Mila.” After a few minutes, he said, “You know, you’ve just been closer to me than anyone else has in my entire life. You’ve been inside my mind.” “Is that a problem?” she asked softly. “No,” he said. “But I suppose it’s foolish to remain formal under those circumstances. Perhaps you should call me Ed.” Mila smiled at him through the darkness. “Alright. Good night, Ed.”
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