Dawa
The Kumari and Lenore
1931, Himalayas, Nepal
"Shhh."
Wind howls in my ears. It sounds like Lenore.
"Shhhhhh."
More howling.
"I hear something. Do you hear something?"
Whistling wind.
"You hear it. That is not her, though."
Lenore nudges me, knowing. Her soft, yet rough, white and black pocked fur rustles on my shoulder. Her hot breath feels stagnant amongst the cold, cold air.
"You're eager. That is not the child demon."
More nudging. Black tipped ears perking.
"Lenore, that is not the child demon. She has not come back for us."
Her too large head rests on my naked lap, warming what has not been warm for too long of a time. She is right, it is much too chilly for this seeking. More better deeper in our cave for this, but I hear something.
Something which has not been heard for a long time either.
"Lenore."
It sounds almost as if...
"Lenore. They've come."
The big cat's head on my lap licks her black thin lined lips.
"I told you they'd come back."
Tick, tick, tick
"Well, not them exactly."
"Phillip, this is a good ledge. Light is falling. Ask him if we should set up camp. This is good a ledge as any."
Whispering now. "They can not come back if they've been eaten before."
Howling wind, carrying voices. More men's voices. Rare on this mountaintop, the one they call Everest.
"It is not her, but we shall feast tonight."
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