Free Mountain of Fire by Radhika Puri Page B

ashfall. The camp was a sad place and the children could not wait to get out of there.

    Agus was sick with worry. “What happens if the cave gets buried, if the kingdom is gone forever?”
    Ayah tried his best to console him. “It’s fine Agus. Fitri and you know the location. We will find it again. Calm down.”
    But there was no calming Agus, who continued to fret and fume. Fitri too was eager to get back to the village but for an entirely different reason. There was a funny feeling in the pit of her stomach, a feeling that something had happened. Something that was not supposed to happen. But she figured it had to do with the volcano erupting. What else could it be?

    Exactly a month and ten days passed before Fitri and her family were allowed to return to their village. After it spent its fury, the mountain had started to calm down. But they could not go back till the bule said the danger had finally passed.
    Agus was beside himself with joy when he heard the news. Finally it was time to go home! He could show off the cave and the kingdom at last! Fitri was excited too but still apprehensive. She could not shake off the feeling that something was wrong. She had not had a single dream after the last one. Perhaps they had stopped.
    The people gathered their meagre belongings and left the camp the way they had come, in buses. With one difference: everyone now had a mask. The ash from the eruption still hung in the air.
    Agus nudged Fitri, nodding towards some strangers that had boarded the bus. Two Indonesians and one bule, a lady with golden blond hair falling down her back. These were the people from the museum who had interviewed Agus. She smiled at him. He turned red and promptly slumped in his seat.
    When the buses finally stopped at the welcome board that read “Welcome to Machuchak”, the sun was high in the sky and it was late in the afternoon.
    People slowly started getting off the bus, afraid of what they would find. Would their houses be filled with ash? Their crops destroyed? Their animals dead?
    Fitri looked at the forest around her. Parts of it had been destroyed and grey ash covered the trees. Further up the mountain she could see that trees had been snapped like matchsticks. Just as in her dream. She could see people walking around, clearing bits of rock and some dead animals. Three men walked past her carrying a dead cow, its face grotesquely twisted and its body bloated.
    Agus had got over his initial shyness and made friends with the archaeologists. Just as soon as the bus stopped he wanted to race off to the cave.
    â€œCome on, Fitri! Let’s go. Let’s go and check out the cave.”
    â€œHang on, Agus. Wait. Let’s see if the mountain path is safe,” she said, hesitating. She couldn’t shake off that nagging feeling. But there was no restraining Agus.
    The three archaeologists wanted the children to show them the entrance to the cave right away. They wanted to build a fence around it to protect it, so that inquisitive people and wild animals could not get in. The villagers were keen to see the much-talked-about cave too.
    So Ayah, Agus and Fitri, along with the archaeologists and a troop of villagers, started up the mountain road. Ibu, along with the other women, started moving from house to house to check on the condition of the houses, clean the mess, and organise food. Thankfully, most homes had escaped major damage and were covered with a thin layer of ash.
    The village was all a big mess, but at least the basic structures had not been completely destroyed.
    Fitri followed her brother and his new friends slowly – walking behind the group, listening to Agus brag about the dangerous avalanche when “a rock as big as a house” had rolled over the hole.
    â€œAnd then Pak Eko lifted it!’ Agus exclaimed to the group. Fitri rolled her eyes and snorted but her eyes were searching for her favourite spot. Let it be okay, she thought.
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