I tried to see the world as he did, to see past the mysteries and the riddles, wanting to see myself as a part of the family and truly belong to this clan made up of people and animals and trees. Kindred spirits that belonged here in the forest and the valley where I wandered with a false sense of confidence, pretending that I knew who I was and how to handle myself if I had to. That I had already found the answers that I was looking for. 

I would still hide whenever I ran into people and wait patiently behind the trees as they walked past me or sneak away, hoping not to be noticed when my path crossed theirs.

When they had left I would come back to clean up after them. Cursing and hating them for their lack of manners and respect for this most sanctuous of places and then, when I had buried their fire pits with peat and moss and wiped out all of the traces so that the ground seemed undisturbed again, when no one could tell that there had been a transgression, I would sit down in silence, hoping that I could restore the balance in some way, that my presence alone was enough to realign the peace.

When I broke the peace myself I knew that I would have to do it all over again, that my efforts were futile as long as the intruders would return over and over again, allowing my thoughts to trouble me and take away from the importance of my work, convincing myself that this too was all in vain.

There was no way that I could prevent them from coming back and even though I would not have invited them to return, I would not have denied them access either if I could.

Instead I allowed them in, welcoming them as guests in my home, quietly accepting that not all of them would know how to behave themselves, hoping that they would grow out of their ways and care for the valley in the same way that I did, given the time to do so.

The old man had trusted me he said, even before we met, and now I had to do the same, put my trust in strangers that saw the world differently than I did, to realise that we all came from the same place and that we would find out where that was together.

It had been a long time since I abandoned their world, a long time since I left it all behind and headed for the end of the valley and while I had become a part of this world and grown stronger, the old man had grown frail, becoming almost paper thin as he spent more and more time in bed where he, in his lucid moments, would tell me time and time again that this would be his last winter.

I would help him up whenever he wanted to and I would carry him to the fireplace when he no longer could walk there on his own, so that he could sit there, nodding off in front of the fire and feeling the warmth on his face once again. To fall soundly a sleep with the memories of all the other times he had drifted off to the sound of the fire.

He slept most of the time and sometimes he would awaken only to ramble on, seemingly incoherently, telling stories that were hard to follow and sometimes he would tell the most beautiful tales from the world of the forest people.

He told me of when the mines shut down and how they looted the place, carrying away explosives and tools that they hid in off-grid cabins that were illegally built on both private and public land. Cabins that were still there, hidden in the crags and beneath the turf, available to those who knew where to look and knew how to read the signs.

He had shown me the Church of Bones after we had passed it a dozen times or so. It was hidden in a scree and built with the stones that once had tumbled down the mountainside, invisible to anyone who didn’t know what to look for. Inside, the crevices were filled with antlers and bones that made up a chaotic pattern crawling around the little room which was built around a large boulder that made a little table in the middle of the room and on top of the table a the skull of a bear skull had been carefully placed as an ornament or maybe as an object of worship.

He had stayed there during the summers, the priest who resided over these hills, when the rocks offered a cool shelter and a quiet place to live. He would come here and then leave again when autumn drew near, going away into the mountains again.

During the nights he would sometimes sit outside, watching the sun move across the sky, seeking answers from the ancestors and from the gods. Sometimes he emptied his pouch of bones on the alter to gain knowledge of the world and the future and anyone who knew how to find him would come to see him. Those who gained knowledge of who he was would come to his church, to seek his advice and his counsel, to dip into the lore and the knowledge that he carried with him. The unknown that he carried for them and they danced with him, moving like shadows to the sound of his rattling shirt.

The old man had come here too, when he returned, offering the spearhead he had found as reconciliation, so that the priest could forge a new world for him. A new world born out of the old and they had lit a great fire together and melted the relic, releasing the secrets it contained and in doing so joining them with the new truths. Building a world for themselves where the walls were pulled down and the darkness of the unknown was let in, one where he could see clearly again.

And then he had disappeared, leaving his church to the oldvman, so that he could reside over the hills with his new knowledge and new found strength.

I still stop there whenever I pass by, as I did after Aurelia had gone, back when I spent most of my days wandering aimlessly in the woods and the hills.

I could often feel her presence when I was out there, almost as if I could sense her coming up behind me, swooping down silently to give me a friendly scare.

Just like she did in the aviary.

But when I turned around, expecting to see her above me, she was never there.

Many a time I believed that I heard her shrieking so I stopped and listened, hoping that she would call out to me again, but I never heard her when it was silent.

After releasing her she would show up regularly at first, hovering above me as I went on my rounds, soaring higher than she would have before, almost out of sight and only when I stopped looking for her and forgot that she was out there would she come down and give me a call.

When I passed by the turbines she would move closer as if she sought guidance and safety.

Most times she would wait beneath the treeline, gliding between the conifers until I returned from the heights.

Sometimes she would sit there in the cover, silently lifting from her hideout as I passed underneath to give me a friendly pat on the top of the head.

I didn’t want to release her when the time came, I wanted to keep her in the aviary where I could continue to feed her and tend to her needs. So that I wouldn’t have to be alone.

But her needs were greater than what I could offer her and even though we did not know why or how she had come this far north, we knew that she had not come here to be kept in a shed.

«You can’t own her, you know», the old man would tell me when talk of releasing her came up.

«The only things we truly own in life are knowledge and skills and that is true when it comes to trees, houses, families and even barn owls . If you find another owl you can nurse her back to health with the knowledge and the skills that you now possess but you can not keep her and you will never own that one either».

I knew that he was right, as he always was, and I knew that keeping her locked up would be her demise.

She had been steadily getting better until the point where she started to lose interest in the food that I gave her. The very place that had brought her back to life were now slowly breaking her down and it was clear that I would have to let her go as soon as she was able to fend for her self. But first I would have to take her to see the vet down in town who we had promised that we would bring her to if she ever became fit enough to be released.

And so I waited patiently for the vet to return, knowing that soon I would be on my own, in the valley and in the world and that I would have to continue my search on my own as if the loneliness that had kept me company when I lived in town had caught up with me here in the wilderness.

It had returned to its ghostlike self now with only a slow wind moving between the houses and I could not remember the last time I had seen it like this or the last time I had been down here on my own.

There were no lights to be seen in any of the windows, neither warm nor cold, and the house up on the hill had almost completely disappeared behind the ever advancing forest. The last house to see the light before winter and the first to see the light in the spring would be the first part of town to surrender to the wild as it threatened to reclaim it in that slow yet relentless fashion.

I often wondered how it had been here before the mines, before there were progress and development, when only the people of the forest and the reindeer herders roamed these hills and lived of this land through their never-ending cycle of life and growth and loss and then new life again.

I could see it now how it might have been, not clearly, just the contours of what might have been and I could see how it might be once again if the forest were to advance unchecked. The house on the hill would be eaten and the rest of town would follow just like the rigging area that had been emptied out when the convoy left and were now slowly breaking up in its surrender to the grass and the heather, showing us that what ever was hidden beneath lay waiting to break free again, to sprout out of the darkness and maybe relight the world. As I got closer I could see that there was still light in one window, one house where someone might share their warmth, a light with a yellowish glow that at least seemed warm from the outside.

I knocked on her door and listened intently until I could hear her coming down the stairs, waiting for her to open the door with that familiar smile that made me feel welcome. A smile that soon changed to a surprised look when she saw that I was alone before it changed again to sadness when I told her that the old man was not doing so well.

He had already been an old man when she grew up here, before the mines had shut down and she remembered the tales about him from the time he had returned. He was a changed man they said, the ones who claimed to know him.

Deranged and traumatized he had turned his back on the world and stayed in his small cabin up there beneath the highlands, in the company of other destitutes.

«I was scared of them, we all were, us children. What child would not be scared of people with names like the Bone Priest? But I was never scared of him. He would come down to my father with the animals he cared for and when I took over he would come to see me instead.»

She took Aurelia from me and let her sit on her arm, patting the bird softly to see if she had any pains or discomfort, all the while talking to her, explaining what she was doing as if the bird understood what she said.

Afterwards she invited me to stay for supper and since she already knew all my excuses I had to accept. It was odd to realize that I wanted to stay, that I enjoyed her company in the same way that I enjoyed being with Aurelia and the old man or the time spent on my own in the forest.

She had grown up here, back when the mines were still operating and had taken over her childhood home as well as her fathers practice and would come to stay as often as she could, tending to the few sheep farmers that were left.

«Did you hear that the mines might reopen?» she said while clearing the table after we had eaten, as casually as if she was making a comment about the weather.

«No», I replied, trying to remain calm, even though an uncontrollable sense of distress started to build up inside of me as my heart tried to force its way up my throat.

«Yeah, the prices have gone up making it viable that they might open up again. Guess the old timers were right after all?»

«Never thought that would happen» I replied, trying to sound calm.

«They say they have better ways of disposing of the waste now and that it won’t pollute as much as it did before».

«Does that even matter, I said, leaving it as it is won’t pollute anything at all».

«Yeah, in the end it all comes down to how much power the dams can provide, guess they finally are going to agree on who’s to pay for the upkeep huh.»

I helped her clear the table, then I dried off the dishes after she had washed them.

We diverted ourselves by talking about the old man and the animals he had helped and of Aurelia who had been waiting patiently while we ate.

And all the while the thought of the mines loomed large in the back of my head.

She would return more often after that and I would go to see her whenever she was in town, sometimes I’d bring Aurelia who was getting closer to being released day by day and sometimes I would go down there anyway.

She would always ask me to stay for supper and I would always accept, offering to help out with anything around the house that she no longer was up to her self.

It was nice to have someone to care for and it was nice to feel that she cared for me as well.

There were new workers in town now and some of them were living in the same house that I had rented when I came here the first time.

Even the old rigging area was restored to its former glory and covered in a fresh new layer of tarmac that glistened in the sun.

«They are surveyors, she told me one night over dinner. They’ve come to see if it is possible to get the mines running again».

I knew very well who they were and why they were here, it still felt like getting hit in the face when she told me and that same feeling of uncontrollable anger started building up inside again.

«I can’t believe it, I said, I can’t believe that they are considering to start up again».

«I know, I’m not too happy about it either.Theres even talk about building that forth dam that they never built.»

«Why, I stuttered, isn’t it enough with the three they already have?»

«They say that there is only one of them that produces any power and that just isn’t enough to keep the mines going when they open. Let alone if they are going to expand like they want to. If it wasn’t for the fact that the Lower dam was still operating they might not have considered opening up at all, it just wouldn’t be possible. Some even say that the talk about opening up the mines again is just an excuse for building another dam».

This was a death sentence. A threat to my life as well as the valley I was a part of.

I could not begin to imagine what it would mean if the whole valley was suddenly gone, hidden under a massive amount of water. The rivers would disappear, the forest, the paths, the old houses and cabins that I used whenever I needed them. Everything I had discovered, cared for and protected.

Even the ghosts would be gone.

I refused to believe it, denied myself to think about what this meant, telling myself that I should leave before it happened, that it was better to remember it the way it was, that it would be unbearable to witness it disappear.

Maybe I could head further in, to the lakes and the forests the townspeople had told me of. Go where the reindeer herds still roamed and find new rivers that I could follow, make my own paths and continue my life there instead where no one would come to bother me.

«I guess there’s no point in fighting them this time» I mumbled, trying to sound calm.

«There are none left… » was all she managed to say before her voice cracked up and faded away.

«What should we do then? I know I couldn’t stand to see it disappear»

She started crying, silently at first, then sobbing like a child, and when she looked up at me so that I could see the tears that were streaming down her face I started crying as well, crying just like her as all the fear and anger and despair rose to the surface at once.

I sat down beside her and she put my head on her chest and held me desperately in her arms and she kissed me on the top of my head and on my cheek and on my lips and we kissed and we cried and I followed her to her bed where we stayed together in a fleeting moment that lasted throughout the night.

Oblivious of the fear of what was to come for a little while longer.