The Longest Winter

Sunvik thought back to the day the darkness started. For years, he and his fellow villagers had been tracking the path of the sun. They knew its pattern. Knew when it would be at the highest point in the sky, giving them the longest day. They made marks in the stone at various key points in the year. This was their calendar. They used these marks to know when to plant, when to harvest and when they needed to be ready for the cold dark of winter.

           Sunvik moved his head from side to side, taking in his surroundings in the cave. His wife and children were off to his left. He could just make out a small amount of motion in that direction. Not much more than the shifting of shadows and shapes that, after all this time, he could recognize as his family. He heard other sounds as the rest of the tribe settled in to rest for “the day”. Without the cues from the sun, their bodies no longer knew when it was truly time to rest or to get up. They had settled into a different pattern. A sunless pattern.

           They referred it as the day of darkness, although at the time, they had no idea of what was to come. On the day of darkness, the tribe gathered at the calendar rock. The elders, including Sunvik, nodded as the light from the sun touched the line marking the shortest day. The next day, it would start on its path back in the other direction, eventually touching the line for the longest day. Sunvik allowed himself a brief fantasy of the warmer months, when he could go out in minimal clothing, maybe stopping by the river to dip in the cool water and wash the sweat from his body after a days work. He came back to the present and the conversation about how much food they had stored. This had been a good year.

The pattern of their lives reflected the cycles of light and dark. As the sun set at its earliest point in the afternoon, they lit a fire. They looked up as the first stars winked in the blue black of the evening sky. One of the elders started retelling their story about the stars. Eyes of gods from long ago. Gods who had created the earth, the plants, animals, and the wind and rain. They passed around a cup of their winter drink, which burned the throat and let them know they were alive. Sunvik went to bed that night feeling satisfied and at peace. He got under the fur animal skins and held Aija close, relishing her warmth and soft skin. He reached for her breast and she lightly swatted his hand away. He let his hand drift down to her growing belly. She claimed to have felt their new child moving, but he hadn’t been able to feel it from the outside yet. He smiled and felt himself drifting off.

           The next day started like any other winter day. Aija and the other women stood around fires warming food and drink for the tribe. The children ran and were overjoyed to see the first flakes of snow drifting down. As the afternoon wore on, one of the other leaders came to Sunvik’s hut, looking concerned. “You need to come Sunvik.” His eyes warned Sunvik not to ask any questions. This was not a matter to be discussed in front of his family. He got on his cloak and boots and went outside. “What is it?” Sunvik asked.

           “Come see the calendar. Something is wrong.” He tugged at Sunvik’s arm, hurrying him along.

           At the calendar, Sunvik glanced up through the crack they had carved in the rock to view the sun’s position. As the light came through the crack, Sunvik was a bit alarmed to see that rather than starting back to the longest day, it had gone to the other side of the line for the day of darkness. He squinched his eyes to make sure he was seeing this right. They had noticed minor changes in their calendar over time, but never something like this. He nodded and looked around at the others gathered with him. “Sometimes, the gods do things we don’t understand. Let’s see what happens tomorrow.” He was greeted with looks of concern, but also nodding heads. No one spoke out against this plan. Sunvik maintained a neutral expression despite a pit that formed in his stomach.

           The next day, Sunvik found himself looking up every few moments like he didn’t trust the sun to be making its normal path in the sky. He found it hard to concentrate on his tasks. Aija watched him, knowing that something was wrong. She came up and put her hand on his arm, squeezing tight. “What is it, my love? Why do you keep looking up?”

He hadn’t known he was being so obvious.

           “I don’t know yet. I’ll let you know as soon as I have an answer.” She looked at him for several seconds before going back to her work.

           The elders gathered at the calendar once more. The shadow still moved away from the shortest day mark. They talked among themselves, making the beginnings of a plan. Sunvik felt the first real strains of worry. The worst part of this day was going back to Aija and telling her what was happening. She furrowed her brow. “I don’t understand. What does it mean?” Sunvik could only shake his head. He didn’t have the answers.

           As the weeks went by, the whole tribe started to notice. The sun came up later in the morning and disappeared earlier and earlier each afternoon. The leaders gathered everyone together to talk about their plan. Some members of the tribe responded with angry and scared voices. Soon they were down to just a few hours of daylight as the sun scudded across the horizon. By this time, they had found a cave. They knew that with no daylight, it would be too cold to spend any time outside. Sunvik and Jarvil, one of the other leaders, went up to the roof of the cave and used their tools to drill a hole so that they could have fires and let the smoke rise out. They tested it to make sure they weren’t just dooming the tribe to die of smoke inhalation. They hugged briefly when they saw that it worked. There wasn’t much time. They were now down to just a couple of hours of light each day and loading all the supplies into the cave would be hard work.

           “Sunvik. Why are the gods doing this to us? Is it some kind of test?”

           “I don’t know. If we are smart, we can survive.” Sunvik reached out and gave Jarvil’s arm a reassuring squeeze. He felt like he was betraying his friend by not sharing his thoughts. He had studied the plants and the animals over the years. He had noticed that during times of drought plants died and birds and other animals moved away. With no sun, it would only be a matter of time before there was no life left, including the tribe. He held these thoughts to himself, wondering if he should share them with Aija. He didn’t want her to panic, especially with a child on the way, but didn’t she deserve to know?

           Jarvil and Sunvik talked as they made their way back to the little settlement. Always the optimist, Jarvil surmised that the sun would make its way back soon, even though he had no evidence this was true. They both shared theories about what was happening. Neither of them could have known that a few weeks ago, a small chunk of passing asteroid broke off, sailed through the atmosphere, lighting up the sky if you were in the right spot, and crashed into the planet with just enough force to knock it out of its normal orbit. No one could have guessed how such a small thing could impact them so much. They also didn’t think of the people living on the other side of the planet who were going through the opposite circumstances. They had a different challenge and were scrambling to find shelter to avoid the constant heat.

           This had all happened months ago. The first weeks were difficult. Sunvik hid his fear. He wanted to show confidence to help others stay calm. His biggest worry was Aija and the baby that would come any day. The baby did come and this gave the tribe something to keep them busy and focus on. It was a baby boy to join their 4-year-old daughter. They named him Turan. An ancient name evoking strength over adversity. This child had only known the dark of the cave and the dim firelight. To him, the sun would just be a mythical object. They had all grown accustomed to living in the dark. It took several weeks for their eyes to fully adjust. They did have the fires and that helped lift their spirits. But the fires also drew unwanted visitors. One time, Sunvik and Jarvil had to fend off a mountain lion with spears. The lion’s fierce jaws snapped at them. Normally, they wouldn’t kill such a magnificent beast but they had no choice. The darkness had apparently driven it mad. They made peace with the gods over this sacrifice and dutifully used the meat and made the skin into more clothes and blankets.

           Without the sun they lost track of time, and it took time to adjust to this new reality. Sunvik had dreams of walking on a sunlit path in the woods, tilting his face up to the warmth and light. He remembered the smell as water from the green leaves surrounding him evaporated. Their current world was one of blacks, whites, grays and browns. It was also a silent world as the birds and insects had been silenced under a blanket of snow and darkness.

           Sunvik didn’t know how long he had been sleeping but was restless. Despite the warmth of Aija and the blankets drawn around him, he got up, walked over to the cave mouth and looked out. Initially he saw nothing. Might as well have my eyes closed, he thought. There weren’t even any stars in the sky. It was eerily quiet. He thought of the birds and how he missed them so, almost more than anything else. Their joy and the wonder he felt as he watched them flit from branch to branch. Even the birds that normally stayed in the winter were gone. He thought, not for the first time, what dishonor they had inflicted on the earth to make the gods so angry as to make the sun go away. He prayed then. Prayed for forgiveness. Prayed for light. He didn’t want to die this way. In a dark cave with those who had survived these past months. They had been lucky. They had been building up extra food for the winter anyway and the year before the sun disappeared had been especially good. Like the gods were readying them for this test.

He felt a wave of sadness then, thinking of those who had forsaken the cave and gone off, sure that their village alone had been cursed. He and Jarvil had gone on one brief expedition, stumbling around in the dark and had come across two bodies. A husband and wife who left the cave some time ago. Their bodies had been ravaged by whatever animals lurked outside the cave. They took time to bury the bodies as best as they could, sparing them further abuse. He hoped that others who had left the safety of the cave had not suffered the same fate.

Those that were left had grown closer. If there was anything good that had come of this, that was it. Sunvik’s daughter had been forced to grow up faster than he would have liked, but he was proud that she helped take care of her baby brother. He thought of all this as he gazed out at the black.

           He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and stared at one spot on the horizon. He wasn’t sure if he had imagined it, but thought that for just a minute, he had seen something out there. But he wasn’t sure. He sighed and turned back to rejoin Aija. A few nights later, this scene repeated, only this time, he was sure of it. For about 5 minutes, there was a light spot in the distance. He didn’t want to say anything until he was sure. He started getting up every night to confirm. As with most things, the planet didn’t like being out of equilibrium. It slowly cycled its way back to where it had been, and as it did, the sun started back to its normal patterns. Sunvik looked at Turan and now worried about how he would adjust to a sun he had never seen. He supposed that was his lot in life, to worry about one thing or another. Each day, the tribe would gather at the mouth of the cave and gaze out at the brightening day. Soon, the snow began to melt, and they slowly moved back out to the little village that was their home. One day, Sunvik was out hunting, and he heard the trill of a bird in the brush. He looked up at the sun, relishing it on his face and smiled.