angara: переводы

→My first reflex is to hide, but if it’s the cops, they’ll just run my license plate and maybe even call my dad, since it’s his name on the registration. Before the vehicle comes into view, a large black shape flies straight at me, and I duck as it glides within inches of my head.

→I build a little fort out of twigs and then add some bigger pieces of wood that I’ve gathered, like I saw Juneau do. And I’m about to try to light the pile when I hear a car coming down the dirt road. I freeze. No one’s come anywhere near my campsite, so far as I know, and I’m afraid some park rangers or police are going to arrest me for staying here since it isn’t an official campground. (I had seen signs for some of those, but they all cost money, and I’m seeing how long I can stretch my last five bucks.)

→Although the rest of her story has panned out so far, kidnapping a whole commune seems a bit extreme. Then again, it would be pretty twisted if they had all picked up and left without her.

→It’s obvious that she’s smart. I wonder how long it will take her to get used to living in the real world. And I wonder just where it is that her dad and clan are.

→Before she stole mine, that is. I’ll bet she’s never used a computer. Although something tells me she’d probably pick that up quickly too.

→To tell the truth, Juneau made me feel inept about all this outdoors stuff. But in L.A. why would I ever need to build a fire? I’m sure there are a million things that I know how to do that she doesn’t. I mean, she’d never driven a car.

→Tonight, however, I have the tent up nearly as fast as Juneau did. After that resounding success, I decide to push my luck and attempt building a fire for the first time. Not because it’s cold—it’s a bit chilly, but not enough to merit the fire—I just want to see if I can.

→THE FIRST NIGHT IT TOOK ME A WHILE TO PITCH the tent. After that effort, along with my exhaustion from walking around all day, I didn’t even mind the hard ground. I was asleep by the time my head hit the pillow.

→I turn away from him, exhale, and walk toward the tent. I hope I won’t need to.

→He nods and looks back at the fire.

→“I’m going to go to bed,” I say. He glances up at me, and I read the look on his face like it’s in flashing neon. “Don’t worry. I’m not going to touch you,” I say. “I won’t ever do anything to you again . . . without your consent.”

→I stop myself from trying to touch him again. I want to comfort him. To tell him it’s no big deal. But that would be wrong. It is a really big deal to him. And I need to give him time to process it. To give him space.

→“Please don’t say that again,” he says, eyebrows knit in concern. “Thinking of myself as a channel to anything is extremely freaky.”

→I nod. “At least I think so,” I say. “Otherwise we’re in the wrong place to figure out the next prophecy. And it wasn’t exactly you who told me. You were just my channel to nature’s collective unconscious.”

→“Almost. Because at least there’s an explanation for that. I thought you were delusional when you said you used me as your oracle. Did I really tell you things that turned out to be true?”

→“So it was better when you thought I was insane?”

→“Sorry. I’m too weirded out.”

→“It’s another prophecy you gave me. I haven’t figured it out yet.” I reach out to take his hand, but he pulls it away.

→He looks back toward the fire. This conversation is difficult for him, I can tell. He closes his eyes, breathes deeply, and turns to look at me. “So what’s the next step?”

→“I think I can reverse it in the morning.”