Navigating Early – by Clare Vanderpool

Finding Pi

 

 

FOR A LONG TIME, Pi lay hurt and alone, drifting between life and death. His thoughts meandered from memory to dream. His hands, his arms, and his whole body were so translucent that he was certain he could no longer be counted among the living.

Until he heard a sound. It was a voice, hoarse and raspy. “Is someone there?”

Pi sat up, or thought he did, although he could barely feel the rock beneath him. His head ached where he’d cracked it. He touched the trickle of blood that made its way down his scalp. If he could feel his head ache and his blood still trickled, then he must be alive, he reasoned.

“Hello,” he croaked. “I am here.”

A shadowy figure peered over the ledge above him. Another tortured soul whose burdens had led him to this place.

“Take my hand,” the voice said.

Pi got to his feet and thrust the pack up and out of the hole. It landed with a thud. He reached for a rock jutting out above his head, then found a foothold and hoisted himself up a few inches. He searched for another rock and another foothold. Finally, he was able to grab hold of the hand that reached for him. The hand was firm and strong and pulled him out of the hole.

Pi had many questions to ask. What are you doing in this desolate place? Can you really see me? Am I still alive?

But before he could speak, he gazed into the face of the one whose hand he still held. Pi stared, dumbfounded.

“Father?”

The man looked equally surprised and held his son in a long embrace. “Pi,” he answered in a whisper.

Standing in his father’s arms, something shifted in Pi. He took in what seemed like his first real breath in a very long time. The air around him felt different on his skin. Pi wasn’t sure if he had earned the name Polaris or not—but it no longer mattered. He had longed to hear the name his mother called him. Pi.

Words flowed out, and Pi learned that his father had been hunting when their village was attacked. He returned to find such devastation that he’d wanted to leave along with the other survivors. But he stayed for many months, waiting for his only son to return. His son did not come back. Heartbroken, he felt that his burden was too great to bear, and he, like Pi, was drawn to the place of lost souls.

Now that father and son had been reunited, they needed to find their way out of the winding catacombs. But how? It was dark, and they had been wandering in the maze of tunnels and caves for so long. Then Pi saw the drawings on the rock wall. The drawings were simple and moved from one cave to the next, telling the story of an ancient people on a journey. The people in the story followed the sun until it grew dark. Then, in another room, the drawing showed them following the stars, until finally, there was a bear. A great black bear, shown leading her cubs. The people followed her. And so did Pi and his father.

As they walked, the air gradually got cooler and sweeter. The whispers and sighs faded away, and eventually the light of day replaced the darkness. Pi and his father passed through a misty waterfall and found themselves on dry ground.

Both of them took a moment to breathe in the fresh air and warm their faces in the sunlight. Pi’s hands were no longer translucent. They were flesh and blood.