Tina and the Milefen

Time...the distant future where mankind is re-emerging from global catastrophy
Place...North American wilderness
(please add as much or as little as you like, but maintain a continuum with Tina as hero and the aliens as friendlies. The protagonists are other humans who, for whatever reasons, deny help from the star travellers who shall be known as 'the Milefen')
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chapter 1


In the surreal silence of the predawn, when natures' children still sleep in dewy bowers and nocturnal creatures have crept away to hide from the promise of a rising sun, a solitary figure glides through the cedars.

Raising her head, she inhales through her nostrils, taking in the sweet woodsy scent. Her eyes, keen with night vision, sees distant clouds in the East, etched out by a sun still far from rising. The moonless night carries a million sparkling stars splashed across the velvet skies.

Before her lies a placid lake, flat as a mirror, reflecting an alternate universe in unwavering beauty. She sits upon a grey boulder and, shivering in the cold quiet air, momentarily ponders the beauty of the scene. Far away, a loon breaks the silence with an eerie call, breaking the reverie, making her turn her head in its' direction.

A motion caught her eye...barely visible upon the waters, but when she scanned to focus, it was gone. Her hand moved to the flint knife at her ankle, closing upon a hilt as familiar to her fingers as life itself.

Motionless, Tina scanned the surface of the still waters, her breath held in her lungs and her mouth slightly open to augment her hearing, but nothing stirred upon the lake. The distant shore, black against the depths of space, held no movement, the silence was complete, as if all the forest held its breath. Slowly rising from the rock, she turned, fading back into the deeper darkness of the cedars along the shore and waited once again, knowing something was not right.

Far off, the loon called again, the echoes ringing lonely in the distance. She let go her breath in a rush and shook her head at being spooked. It was time to go to the fish traps to see what bounty she could bring back to the tribe at daybreak and walked brashly back onto the pebbled beach, her steps purposely rattling the stones as she strode defiantly northward along the still waters.

The short walk took her to the small stream rushing into the lake. It was at its mouth where the wicker traps had been set to corral the pickerel as they travelled upstream, guiding them into a large holding area from which there was no escape. She could see their dark bodies undulating against the sandy bottom and knew the night had brought a reasonably good catch. Rummaging about under the brush, her hands found the trident spear set there the morning before and she set about her task. The long oak handle had a rib bone spike set deeply within the centre of the tip and two barbed bone guides were lashed securely to the sides. As she expertly thrust the spear into the waters, a large fish was impaled and thus firmly held.

She thought of Donall as she dragged the fish onto shore, his rugged hands had seemed so hard as he has fashioned the new spear for her, smiling as she had watched him. She though that someday, maybe he would take her as his mate. she certainly was ready for it, her strength from the daily work had grown quickly these past moons and she smiled at the thought of those rough hands holding her as she pulled the fish from the barbs and ran a line through its mouth and gill.

Tina hefted the spear again and again until the black bodies no longer speckled the waters. The line was heavy with the dozen fish she had caught, and turning back along the shoreline she began plodding back the way she had come. Reaching the stone where she had previously rested, she turned once more to the scene of the placid lake. A mist had begun to form in the dawning light and she relished the view as it always did, life had been good to her and the fishing camp always was her favourite spot.

Just as she was about to plunge into the cedars, a greenish glow seemed to pass under the surface of the waters. Staring at it as it moved filled her with renewed forboding, but she had no time to dawdle, wanting to be back by sunrise for the warmth of the fire and the bannock her mother always had ready for her.

With a snort of disgust at her fear, she turned and took to the path.