I think it would be cruel to put them down again now they've only just got aloft again. Although you would think they'd have checked the wind was blowing the right way first, wouldn't you?
Reckoning Ben looked down, and then to my horror poked his fingers through the hole I'd found in the bottom of the basket and wiggled them around. "Yep, I guess we did get damaged when we landed," he said. "This basket feels like it's mostly made of rope, you know." "A woven basket," I said. "Well, I guess they're trying to keep the weight down everywhere; a wooden one would be a bit safer for us, but heavier." "Who's they?" "Herr Markus and his friends. He didn't look like the kind of person who could knit themselves a ballooning basket, Ben." "Haha!" Ben pulled his fingers out of the hole and looked around. We were still going up, but we'd also caught a current of wind from somewhere and we were heading south definitely, with maybe some east in there as well. "Well, let's try not to stand on that spot then, Red. Because the alternative is landing this thing again, and... well, see for yourself." I stood up, my legs still a big shaky from how I got into the basket and looked down over the edge. The landscape rolled out below us was mountainous, and there were large white patches that was most likely snow, and not much in the way of anything that looked safely flat. "If we get low enough we can probably find somewhere flat," I said, but my heart wasn't in the idea and Ben could hear that in my voice. "If we get that low we might just rip the bottom out of the basket on the next tree or rock outcrop that comes along," he said. "Plus... we don't really know how to steer this thing. I'd rather have the space up here to try and fix things than be down there and worried about what we're going to hit." "There's less way to fall all the way down there," I said, but I didn't press it. I rather suspected Ben was right, and he gets all cocky when he makes me say that. "Something else that occurs to me," said Ben, and I could feel dread creeping up on me; when he knows he's spotted something that it's normally my job to spot, he gets very confident. "We should have checked the direction of the wind before we took off." Well. Ain't that the truth, and no mistake. The kind of unpleasant truth that leads to reckonings. And Ben, of all people, the guy who leaps onto a horse and rides three miles before discovering it ain't his, and it's actually a donkey, and it's a prize-winning one at that that someone desperately wants back (yes, all that actually happened to us), standing there with one hand shading his eyes, looking towards the horizon, and quietly saying something that I should have been worrying about all morning while we were trying to fill the damn balloon with hot air. "It's more fun this way," I said, trying to pick the most Ben thing I could think of, and he laughed and I joined in. Late afternoon the balloon lurched as the wind changed direction and got stronger, and I spent twenty minutes staring out in all directions at the clouds -- mostly small ones, fluffy and white, and wondering if there was another storm coming in from somewhere. But the clouds remaining innocent-looking, and the wind kept up its new strength, tugging at my hat and Ben's and fluttering our shirt-collars every chance it got. The silvery line of the river seemed to be running parallel to us at that point, so I sat back down and Ben and I got back to playing cards and trying to ignore that the rip in the basket seemed to be growing. When I stood up a half-hour later the world below us was all mountain and the river had disappeared.
Greg - these two sure know how to travel in style. I'm still sure they'll get to where they're wanting to get eventually. I'm less sure there will be anything much left of the balloon when they get there.
2 comments:
I think it would be cruel to put them down again now they've only just got aloft again. Although you would think they'd have checked the wind was blowing the right way first, wouldn't you?
Reckoning
Ben looked down, and then to my horror poked his fingers through the hole I'd found in the bottom of the basket and wiggled them around.
"Yep, I guess we did get damaged when we landed," he said. "This basket feels like it's mostly made of rope, you know."
"A woven basket," I said. "Well, I guess they're trying to keep the weight down everywhere; a wooden one would be a bit safer for us, but heavier."
"Who's they?"
"Herr Markus and his friends. He didn't look like the kind of person who could knit themselves a ballooning basket, Ben."
"Haha!" Ben pulled his fingers out of the hole and looked around. We were still going up, but we'd also caught a current of wind from somewhere and we were heading south definitely, with maybe some east in there as well. "Well, let's try not to stand on that spot then, Red. Because the alternative is landing this thing again, and... well, see for yourself."
I stood up, my legs still a big shaky from how I got into the basket and looked down over the edge. The landscape rolled out below us was mountainous, and there were large white patches that was most likely snow, and not much in the way of anything that looked safely flat.
"If we get low enough we can probably find somewhere flat," I said, but my heart wasn't in the idea and Ben could hear that in my voice.
"If we get that low we might just rip the bottom out of the basket on the next tree or rock outcrop that comes along," he said. "Plus... we don't really know how to steer this thing. I'd rather have the space up here to try and fix things than be down there and worried about what we're going to hit."
"There's less way to fall all the way down there," I said, but I didn't press it. I rather suspected Ben was right, and he gets all cocky when he makes me say that.
"Something else that occurs to me," said Ben, and I could feel dread creeping up on me; when he knows he's spotted something that it's normally my job to spot, he gets very confident. "We should have checked the direction of the wind before we took off."
Well. Ain't that the truth, and no mistake. The kind of unpleasant truth that leads to reckonings. And Ben, of all people, the guy who leaps onto a horse and rides three miles before discovering it ain't his, and it's actually a donkey, and it's a prize-winning one at that that someone desperately wants back (yes, all that actually happened to us), standing there with one hand shading his eyes, looking towards the horizon, and quietly saying something that I should have been worrying about all morning while we were trying to fill the damn balloon with hot air.
"It's more fun this way," I said, trying to pick the most Ben thing I could think of, and he laughed and I joined in.
Late afternoon the balloon lurched as the wind changed direction and got stronger, and I spent twenty minutes staring out in all directions at the clouds -- mostly small ones, fluffy and white, and wondering if there was another storm coming in from somewhere. But the clouds remaining innocent-looking, and the wind kept up its new strength, tugging at my hat and Ben's and fluttering our shirt-collars every chance it got. The silvery line of the river seemed to be running parallel to us at that point, so I sat back down and Ben and I got back to playing cards and trying to ignore that the rip in the basket seemed to be growing. When I stood up a half-hour later the world below us was all mountain and the river had disappeared.
Greg - these two sure know how to travel in style. I'm still sure they'll get to where they're wanting to get eventually. I'm less sure there will be anything much left of the balloon when they get there.
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