After all, she was following behind a train of heavily laden porters: small, lean men carrying high loads in the baskets they supported by tump lines across their foreheads.
Through the gaps, Maya could see the milk-white, foaming waters of the Dudh Kosi river, rushing down from the high, high mountains which waited, somewhere above. Here and there a board was indeed missing underfoot. More likely to step through a hole in the bridge and encounter new dimensions of mortality. Maybe there, she thought, where the bridge ends, I’ll walk out of this world and find - what? The elusive faery call that I’ve been following all my life, that lately seems to have stopped calling? Maybe I’ll step into the Otherworld, and never go home again.Īgain the bridge shuddered in the wind and instinctively Maya grabbed one of the rusty cables that supported the narrow, wooden span. For a moment she felt a sharp sense of vertigo, as if the poles of the earth might shift and a new dimension open up at the far side of the gorge.
The bridge swayed as Maya stepped out on it. Walking to Mercury - fiction by Starhawk, extended excerpt.(New York, Bantam, 1997).
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