The Dawn of Skye (The Someday Children Book 1)

by E. B. Heimdal

  “Yes, I went over and gave him some water a while ago, but he was asleep so I don’t know how he’s doing.”

  Konnor looks nervously at Brogan, who’s still lying curled up on the ground. He’s about to say something but gets interrupted by North.

  “Let’s stop working for the day and make a fire. We all need food after today’s work. And Brogan needs a decent place to sleep, some food, and a lot of peace and quiet. Come on, let’s get going.”

  He claps his hands and the other boys automatically start carrying out their different tasks.

  North walks over to Brogan who’s lying almost unconscious on the ground, sleeping. He notices that Brogan is breathing is faster than normal and that his hair is drenched in sweat. North looks at him for a long time without saying a word. He looks at the others, who are all in the midst of building a fire or making places to sleep. No one’s looking at him or Brogan. With a hard and quick kick he hits Brogan’s swollen foot and Brogan wakes up, screaming. He looks around, disoriented, but he’s lost focus and doesn’t understand what happened.

  “Does it hurt?”

  With an expressionless face, North looks down at Brogan who’s tormented by agony like a wounded animal. He kneels next to him and gets a firm grip on his leg, holding it still.

  “You see, Falkner is incredibly worried about you, but I don’t think you’re in nearly as much pain or are as sick as you pretend to be.”

  Brogan looks up at North, but he doesn’t understand what he’s saying. His face is pale and sweaty. Brogan grabs hold of North’s hand desperately trying to catch his attention.

  “Do you have some water? My throat’s completely dry …”

  He slowly falls to the ground again and starts shaking.

  “I don’t feel well. I’m so thirsty.”

  Brogan’s voice is low and almost impossible to hear. He turns his head towards North, but then gives up on saying anymore. A moment later he passes out. North gets up again and starts walking back to the others, but then he sees Falkner heading towards them.

  He starts running to him and shouts: “He’s very sick, Fal. Hurry up and get him some water while I carry him to the hut.”

  North walks back to Brogan and lifts his lifeless body up. He’s heavy and hard to carry. The hard labor of the day doesn’t make the burden any easier for North, and he clenches his teeth so as not to throw Brogan on the ground out of irritation and exhaustion.

  Finally, he reaches the campfire, where Konnor’s prepared a sleeping place. North kneels on one knee and lets Brogan fall out of his arms. He hits the ground with a hard bump. North looks to both sides, but no one’s seen his clumsy maneuvering. He sits silently, watching Brogan’s rapid breathing, and feels a quiet joy growing in his body.

  Suddenly, he senses that someone’s moving closer from behind him, and he quickly grabs Brogan’s hand and turns around.

  “Falkner, good you’re here. He’s feeling really badly.”

  He reaches for Falkner’s water bottle and feels a small, painful sting in his chest at the same time. He recognizes the feeling from once before. Shortly before he and the others left the old clan, he’d had the same feeling in his body. He takes a deep breath to control the pain before he continues.

  “We have to do everything in our power to save our friend. Everything. This is a battle we mustn’t lose.”

  CHAPTER 15

  Skye doesn’t know how long she’s been running, but she’s lost all sense of direction and her grip on the situation. Her breathing is out of control, and she’s so out of breath that she feels physically sick. She stops running and leans against a large tree. There’s no wind and all the sounds have disappeared, as if the forest is holding its breath.

  Skye’s pulse drops, and she can breathe normally again. Suddenly she feels a new strength in her body, and all the little cuts and bruises she picked up during her panicked escape hurt as if they were stab wounds or burns. Her bare arms and feet are full of bloody cuts, and her hands and clothes are covered in dirt because of the many times she’s fallen during her flight. She slowly turns her ear to the forest and listens. Nothing. She can’t hear anything. The forest is still holding its breath, waiting. Skye gently closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. She hopes the silence will soon stop. Finally, she hears the first sounds of birdsong and exhales a sigh of relief.

  “Oh dear, lovely, wonderful birds, I’m glad to hear your song.”

  She slides down the rough trunk of the tree and lies flat on the ground. She must’ve escaped her chasers now since the birds are singing, carefree. That means there’s no danger nearby. During their many walks she’s learned that the birds are the best watchdogs and the worst gossips. Either they’ll stop singing or start squawking loudly. That’s an advantage if uninvited guests show up, and a nuisance if you’re trying to sneak up on an animal. One thing’s for sure though. If the birds are singing their most beautiful songs then everything around them is right as rain.

  Skye straightens her clothes and puts her shoes on. The linen bag in her belt is soaked and sticky because of the birds’ eggs. Both of them have been squashed during her flight away from the lake, but she doesn’t care.

  She looks around to find out where she is and is happy to recognize a mound of earth and a fallen trunk that looks like an old lady with a crooked back. She remembers them and knows their camp isn’t too far away from here. Darkness is coming, and she hurries back to Ecco and their camp. Towards safety and warmth.

  Ecco sits by the fire as Skye reaches the camp. She’s relieved and happy, but also nervous about how Ecco will react when he finds out that their chasers have found them. He looks at her, but doesn’t seem worried that she’s been gone for such a long time or that her skin’s covered with cuts and bruises. His attention is taken by the bow he has in his lap.

  “They’ve found us.”

  She sits next to Ecco and starts crying. The shock and fright of her experience suddenly get a hold of her, and she can’t hold back her tears, even though she tries to be strong. She’s so tired of crying. Tired of being the helpless little sister with no self-control. Ecco pulls her close to comfort her. He doesn’t seem surprised by her news and it helps stop her despair that he’s keeping so calm.

  “I know it, sister. It was only a matter of time. But don’t be scared. I’ve planned it all, and everything will work out. I promise.”

  Skye’s head is resting on Ecco’s shoulder as she clenches his hands in hers. She’s glad that he doesn’t ask her what’s happened, because more than anything she wants to forget the whole terrifying experience. Now she feels safe in the arms of her loyal supporter and eternal protector.

  Suddenly she sees a small red spot on Ecco’s shirt. It looks like fresh blood, and she thinks it’s blood from the cuts she got during her flight from her chasers. She pulls her head away from Ecco, fixing her eyes on the spot, which slowly grows larger and larger and finally gets a hold of the light fabric of the shirt. The blood doesn’t come from her, but from Ecco’s chest. Quickly she reaches for the opening of his shirt and tries to open it.

  “What’s happened, Ecco? You’re bleeding!”

  Ecco jumps from the trunk and away from Skye. He desperately looks down at himself while he’s clenches the opening closed.

  “Let go of me. It’s nothing. Nothing’s happened.”

  He turns away from Skye and closes his shirt completely.

  “Turn around and let me see.”

  Skye’s voice is filled with worry, but she’s afraid to walk over to Ecco. His mood has changed once again, and his snarling reply doesn’t invite any comfort. He kneels and picks up some leaves from the ground. With quick movements, he rubs the leaves over his chest and then closes the shirt again. He turns to Skye and smiles lightly.

  “I tore myself on a branch earlier when I was repairing the broken bow. The wound must have star
ted bleeding again. It’s fine now. Don’t worry about it.”

  Ecco seems calm now and quietly walks to the fire, stirring up the embers. Skye tries not to worry about his injury, even though it looks bad.

  A long-ear is impaled on a spear and the meat is starting to smell burned. He removes it from the fire, cuts one of the legs off, and passes it to Skye.

  “Take this piece of meat and eat it.”

  Skye looks at Ecco and answers: “I don’t feel like it. My appetite’s gone. It’s too burned. The smell makes me sick.”

  Her voice is low and she turns her head away from the meat right in front of her face.

  “Sometimes you have to do things you don’t feel like doing. To survive. For our mutual survival. Not just yours.”

  Ecco moves the spear with the meat closer to her.

  “You’ll have to eat it. You’ve become so weak, and you’ve stopped growing.”

  He sits next to her and pulls the sleeve of her shirt up.

  “Look how thin your arms are … You’ll never be able to pull the arrow hard enough to shoot an enemy. Or swing a heavy weapon fast enough to do damage. You’ll never be able to defend yourself. Or me. It’s a question about life and death. Your life … and my life.”

  Skye hears his words and feels a nauseating feeling erupting from her throat at the thought of blood and meat in her mouth. She looks up at Ecco, meeting his eyes.

  “Can you do that for me, Skye?”

  She looks at his mouth still moving, but she can no longer hear what he’s saying. The only thing she sees is a small lost boy who’s asking her to save him from dying. Or from what’s worse. She accepts the piece of meat and nods obediently.

  The next morning Skye wakes up early. She’s slept badly. The experiences of yesterday have kept her awake, and terrible memories have woken her several times during the night. Open wounds, and burned bodies. Dead dogs, beaten to death. Her father’s stinking, rotting leg. Half-dead people, misery and unhappiness. All night long she was running from an invisible enemy she was not able to escape – a frantic hunt that’s lasted an eternity. She’s still tired, and it feels like her eyes are filled with sand.

  She looks over at Ecco, who’s still lying with his eyes closed. It looks like he’s still sleeping. Quietly, she sneaks out of their den and picks up Ecco’s bow and arrow. The flowers and the leaves are still wet from the dew, and the many cobwebs of the night hang between branches and bushes like they were embroidered with tiny jewels. Her bare toes are quickly wet with the morning dew, but it doesn’t feel cold and the air is alive with small buzzers.

  Skye walks towards the tree they were aiming at yesterday and stops some distance from it. She lifts the bow to her chest. Carefully, Skye places an arrow on the bow while she tries to control her breathing. She takes her time. She calmly pulls the bow string back while she gently exhales. Closing her left eye and shutting out all her other senses, she only sees a little spot on the big tree. Her arm is shaking a little. She takes a deep breath and concentrates as hard as she can. Slowly her arm stops shaking, and she stands as if frozen to the ground. The next moment she releases the bow string with her fingers and the arrow flies almost silently through the air. It hits the tree with a hollow noise and pierces the tree deeply. Skye picks up another arrow from the ground. In slow, controlled movements she puts it on the bow, supporting it with her finger, closes her left eye and releases. The arrow hits the tree in almost the same spot as the first, deeply carved into the trunk of the tree.

  She looks at the tree and the arrows and feels a satisfying warmth inside her body. From this day on she’ll never be a small, frightened and helpless girl. From today she’ll start over and fight all she can to become strong and brave.

  CHAPTER 16

  “Can you see anything now?”

  Fella corrects the blindfold tied in front of Salomon’s eyes so he can’t see through it. Today is Marking Day, and it’s time for both Salomon and Puk to get their body markings. They still haven’t had their first drawings made and in secrecy the others have decided what eternal drawing each of them should have outlined on their bodies.

  Puk is nervous. He knows from the others that it’s not painless, and his low threshold for pain will make the engravings feel extra painful. For the same reason, he’s the only one in the group, apart from Salomon, who hasn’t received his markings yet. He’s kept putting it off, but now it’s time.

  It’s not because he’s weak or a whiner. It’s just that he’s different than most. He’s always been this way, ever since he was very small. He feels more than everyone else, in body as well as in his mind. Sounds are louder in his ears, touches feel stronger on his body, and the mood and thoughts of others often feel like they’re his own emotions. Sometimes it’s an advantage; other times, like now, it’s a disadvantage.

  Dagwood is the only one who understands him, the only one who knows how he feels. Puk confided in him back then when he joined the clan, and Dagwood hadn’t judged him or teased him.

  “Everyone’s born with a talent,” he’d said, “and Puk’s talent is that he can feel and sense things stronger and before everyone else, like a psychic person capable of looking into the future a few moments before everyone else. And only a strong and wise person can possess such a talent because it wears and tears on all your senses. You’re always on guard whether you want to be or not. Puk’s fragile like a bird’s egg – tough on the outside, but soft inside – and you need to take care of him so the shell doesn’t crack.”

  Puk likes that Dagwood looks after him, but he’s afraid that the others see him as weak and useless. He’s nervous about what kind of markings they’ll make on his body and hopes that they won’t ridicule his way of sensing and feeling things.

  “I can’t see a thing,” Salomon says. He holds his hands up in front of him as he carefully tries to move forward. Fella takes his arm and leads him to the circle where the others are sitting.

  Finch has colored his hands dark as coal to indicate that his artistic wisdom stems from his hands. Puk and Salomon both sit on the ground, blindfolded, waiting while the others stand around them cheering excitedly. Finch sits down next to Puk and takes his right arm.

  “Should I start with Puk? His markings are smaller than Salomon’s.”

  He looks at the others, who begin shouting and cheering even louder. Dagwood starts laughing when he sees Puk’s frightened face. He feels a bit sorry for him but thinks it will strengthen his attachment to the group, in particular to Fella and Hackett, who have started teasing and bothering Puk at any opportunity they get. Fella in particular has got it in for Puk.

  He suggested that Puk should get a drawing of a bug as a symbol of something that’s easily stepped on and destroyed. He said it with a smile on his lips, but Dagwood has no doubt that he meant it. Luckily the others overruled his suggestion, but it worries him that this is the way Fella views Puk.

  Finch starts knocking a small sharp stone dipped in wet ash into Puk’s skin. One small, biting knock at a time. Puk gives out a loud yell as he squeezes his fists. The others laugh loudly and cheer him on, and Puk can feel that it takes his focus from the pain.

  “I’m almost done. Hang in there just a little longer.”

  Finch’s encouraging words almost make Puk cry for joy. He feels as if it’s taken an eternity, and several times he’s thought that he couldn’t take the pain a moment longer.

  “There! That was the last dot, Puk. Now I’m done.”

  Finch dries his arm clear of blood with his hand. Puk quickly unties the blindfold in front of his eyes and curiously looks down his arm. His blood has mixed with the black color and it’s hard to see what it resembles. It looks more like a big, black splotch than a drawing.

  “What is it? I can’t tell what it is.”

  One of the girls brings some water and pours it over his arm. Slowly his new marking appear
s. He’s about to comment on it when Dagwood cuts him off.

  “We all agreed that this symbol tells a great deal about who you are. Evi, can you tell Puk what his drawing means?”

  Evi is the smallest member of the clan. She takes a small step forward so the others can see and hear her better. With her tiny voice she starts explaining.

  “Puk, you’re considerate and generous. Generous with your thoughts and care like the sun is generous with its rays. And like the sun you have warmth enough for all of us. You never forget anyone and everyone receives the same – animals as well as people. You’re our sun, even on a rainy day.”

  Dagwood smiles at Evi and nods. Puk looks down at this arm and sees how the marking of a round sun frames his shoulder. Down his arm runs a lot of sun rays. At the end of the rays, two sets of foot prints appear – one of a roundsnout and one of a human being. He couldn’t be prouder of his new body drawing, and he smiles happily at the others.

  Salomon still sits next to Puk, blindfolded. Salomon hasn’t moved or said anything during Puk’s ceremony. He sits motionless like a statue, still blindfolded.

  “Now it’s your turn, Sal. Take your shirt off so I can get started …”

  Finch speaks fast while he eagerly stirs the porridge of water and ash. The others have been looking forward to this for most of the day. Salomon’s marking is perhaps the most impressive and detailed that Finch has ever made.

  “Fetch some torches. It’s getting dark and I need a lot of light.”

  Finch’s voice has a slightly commanding tone, but the others know that his concentration is at its peak now and they obey him without complaining. Salomon still sits with his shirt on and Finch repeats his words.

  “Take off your shirt, Sal. I’m about to mark your chest and your back and it’s a little hard if you’re still wearing your shirt.”

  Hesitantly, Salomon starts to undo his shirt. He stops several times in the process and the others are starting to lose their patience. To encourage him they start clapping while stamping their feet hard into the ground.