by Grace Hudson
“Wes?”
“Mmph? What is it Raf?” He covered one eye, blinking sleepily.
“I have to go. There are mercenaries outside. They are taking all the women and girls. They’ll take me if I stay.”
Wesley bolted upright, rushing to peer through the window to see the wagon, its wooden cage crawling with grasping hands and feet. He felt a tug to his sleeve and crouched down to face Rafaella.
“I have to go, Wes. I don’t have much time.” Wesley looked around in desperation, stilling as understanding crossed his features.
“You’re a brave girl, Raf. I would come with you if I thought it would not arouse suspicion. I will tell them you were taken during the raids of two weeks past. You must find somewhere far away and you must not send word to me, it’s not safe.” He rummaged next to the bed and pulled out a small Amidal pistol.
“Take this.”
“What about you?”
“Ssh. I’ve got the old Harron. It fits my hands but it’s much too big for you to shoot. Come on now.” He ushered her through to the back door.
Once in the doorway they did not risk words for fear of discovery. Wesley placed his hand on Rafaella’s shoulder, eyes bright with tears, his salt and pepper beard glinting in the moonlight. Rafaella hugged him fiercely, forcing herself not to cry. She took one last look at his face and turned to face the field behind the house. She ran softly, quietly, avoiding branches and anything that might make a sound. She ran towards water, just as Wesley had taught her back when she was very young. The Elan river was large, and stretched for many miles to the north-east of Riversberg. The rushing of the water would cover the sound of her boots as she ran, and the water would keep her from becoming thirsty on her journey. She concentrated on nothing but her footing, the sound of the water, the animals in the field, the rhythm of her breathing. She kept her eyes soft, allowing herself to focus on the immediate periphery for any movement that was out of the ordinary. She kept her pace brisk but steady, making sure not to expend too much energy all in one go. Before long a fuzzy blue haze surrounded her, signalling the dawn’s arrival. The need to find cover became apparent, before sunrise could expose her movements in the open field. She turned to her right, heading towards something resembling an old school. She would never have stopped for a barn or a toolshed, too much chance of being discovered during the course of the day. There were no longer any active schools in Riversberg, and an abandoned school most likely would not be disturbed for any reason she could sensibly imagine. She rushed inside, just as the first glimpses of dawn peeked over the field, illuminating the tips of the grass.
Exhausted, her adrenaline caught up with her at once. Now indoors in relative safety, standing still for the first time, she felt her body beginning to shut down. Her heart was racing but she could feel the sleepiness creeping in as the rush subsided. The school was tiny, with a low roof made for people much shorter than most of the townspeople of Riversberg, rows of dark wooden desks lined up before a small hand carved bench at the head of the room. She doubted this school had been used for many years. It looked nothing like the pre-war schools Wes had described, with their clean white walls and arched windows. A few books lay in a shelf in the corner of the room, caked with dust and cobwebs. Rafaella pulled out her flask, taking a long drink and settled herself with a warm blanket behind the podium, using her satchel as a pillow. This would do for now, she would sleep, regain her strength, and resume her journey after nightfall.
– 37 –
That night Rafaella continued her path along the Elan river, stopping periodically to refill her flask from the running water below. She shifted the satchel from shoulder to shoulder, cursing her decision to pack potatoes of all things.
Why didn’t I bring corn? I could have packed many more and they don’t weigh nearly as much.
She did not know how many hours she had trekked along the river in a north-easterly direction, she was only aware of the pain in her feet, and how her legs ached with each passing step. She slumped to rest on a rock for a moment to take a rest and catch her breath. It was only then that she heard it.
Someone was crying. It sounded to Rafaella’s ears to be nearby, a quiet, breathy sob. Rafaella tensed, reaching for the gun. She had learned to shoot at a young age, and since most people were likely to be comparatively taller and stronger, it was the best defence she had. Another cry started up, thin and soft, the shaky sound barely reaching her ears.
Rafaella took a deep breath, hoisting herself from the relative comfort of her rock. She crept towards the sound, careful not to alert anyone to her presence just in case it was a trap. She settled herself behind a small shrub by the river and peered out at the small clearing.
The girl was young, younger than Rafaella herself, perhaps seven or so, it was hard to tell in this light. She perched on a rock, dressed only in a thin tunic and cloth trousers. Her face, illuminated by the moonlight, was wet with tears. Her hands covered most of her face while also obscuring Rafaella’s approach. Rafaella edged silently around the shrub, softly keeping to the shadows surrounding the clearing until she appeared at the side of the rock, just to the girl’s left. She crouched down, trying to make herself look as unthreatening as possible.
“Hey.”
The girl looked up at Rafaella, eyes widened in shock and fear as she scrabbled away, tumbling off her rock and crunching into a pile of leaves.
“No, wait. It’s okay. I’m not one of them. You’re safe here.”
The girl raised her head, a shock of black curls falling into her face. She wiped her eyes, sniffling, pushing her hair out of her eyes, only to have it fall back down again.
“Who… Who are you?”
“I’m Rafaella. I escaped from the township of Riversberg when the mercenaries took all the other girls from my town. What’s your name?”
“Cal.. Caltha.”
“Pleased to meet you, Caltha.” She reached out her hand.
Caltha straightened, remembering her manners.
“Pleased to meet you too.” Caltha took Rafaella’s hand, trying to steady herself and attempted a shaky smile.
“It’s okay. I’m scared too.”
Caltha scowled, crossing her arms in front of her.
“I’m not scared.”
Rafaella chuckled to herself and put a hand on Caltha’s shoulder.
“That’s good. I’m glad you’re not. It’s just… It’s okay if you do get scared. So don’t worry too much okay?”
“Okay.” Caltha shivered. They regarded each other for a moment, unsure of what to say next.
Caltha shivered again, drying her tears with irritated swipes of her palm. Rafaella rummaged in her satchel, pulling out her warmest tunic.
“Uh… Here, put this on. It’ll keep you warm.”
Caltha edged tentatively over and shrugged into the tunic. It hung like a dress over her knees, almost reaching her ankles.
“It is warm.” She breathed a shaky breath, rubbing the wool at her elbow.
“How old are you?”
“I’m six. My birthday is the 5th of January,” she announced proudly.
“Oh. Well I’m ten. Uh… My birthday is the 28th of October.”
“You’re a lot bigger than me.” Caltha regarded her curiously, eyes scanning upward.
Rafaella smiled. “Don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll get bigger too. You’ve got some growing to do.”
“Yeah, but my Ma is small. I think I’m gonna be short.”
“Well if you’re short, you can kick people in the shins.”
Caltha giggled, a warm, bubbly sound. She paused after a moment, face going solemn.
“What happened to your Ma?” Rafaella moved closer to Caltha, settling herself on the rock.
“The men took her. She told me to run away before they came through the door, so I did. I didn’t even get time to take any food with me.”
“Well, I’ve got an idea. Why don’t we team up? I’ve got some warm clothes and a little bit of
food. I’m sure if we join forces we can do better than on our own. I’m good at finding things, and fighting, I’m not big enough to take on any grown ups yet but I’m pretty good, I guess.”
Caltha was thoughtful for a moment before a wide grin broke across her face.
“I’ll team up with you! Um… I’m good at some things. Like… um…”
Rafaella looked on, encouragingly.
“I can cook,” she mumbled.
“Well that’s good. Because I can’t, and I’ve got a couple of potatoes that need cooking. I’ve only got a little pot that Wes used to boil tea on the fire.”
“Wow. You’ve got potatoes? Oh wow! I’ll wash them in the river. You get the firewood. Oh… wait. How can you start a fire now? It’s night time and my glass won’t work because there’s no sun.”
Rafaella smiled to herself, the kid was smart. That was a good sign if they were going to team up. She really didn’t want to get stuck with someone who didn’t know what they were doing, especially in this kind of unknown, hostile terrain.
“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of it.”
Rafaella busied herself collecting kindling while Caltha washed the dirt off the potatoes and cut them into quarters, placing them into the pot with some water from the stream. Rafaella hunted around the base of each tree, picking up the driest twigs and sticks. There would be no logs tonight, she carried no axe and logs needed days to dry out, there just wasn’t time to waste on such pursuits. She stayed close to the clearing, making sure she could see the moon’s direction at all times. She picked out some dry moss, and selected the thickest branches that had fallen to the ground. Rafaella gathered rocks and laid them in a tight circle to create a barrier. She then laid the moss down in the kindling, took out her knife and scratched the flint on to the moss until sparks began to fly. The moss began to glow and smoke, sparks joining together to form a line until it ignited, lighting up the kindling and catching on the larger sticks. She blew gently at the base of the small fire, careful not to blow out the flames. After a time the fire began to sustain itself, radiating a dry warmth, not yet enough to produce a steady heat. She sat back on her heels to find Caltha watching her, mouth open in wonder.
“How’d you do that? That was amazing!”
“Wes used to use flint to make fires when he was in the army. It’s a lot easier than rubbing sticks together. He said as long as you’ve got a spark you can build a fire anywhere.” She smiled to herself, thinking of Wesley and wondering what he was doing right at this moment.
“Who’s Wes?”
“He looked after me, I lived with him. He taught me a lot of stuff he learned when he was in combat. I guess we’re lucky he did, or we wouldn’t be eating tonight.”
“He sounds pretty clever. So, do I put the pot on now?”
“No. Not yet, we need to get some coals going before we can do that. Why don’t you help me get some more sticks while we’re waiting?”
Caltha followed Rafaella around the edges of the clearing, picking up twigs as she went and handing them to Rafaella, who promptly threw most of them away.
Caltha finally stopped, hands on hips. Rafaella sensed the lack of movement and turned to investigate the reason why Caltha was no longer following her carefully selected path.
“Why are you throwing my sticks away? Don’t you like them?”
“They’re green. That means they’re not dried out yet. Which also means they won’t burn.”
“Oh.” Caltha stopped, unsure of what to do next. “So how do you know if they’re green? They don’t look green. They look the same as the ones you’ve got in your hand.”
Rafaella carefully placed her bundle of sticks on the ground and crouched next to Caltha. “See this one?” She held it up for Caltha to inspect.
“Yeah, it doesn’t look any different. How am I supposed to know?”
“Watch this.”
Rafaella gripped the twig in both hands and pulled. The twig bent in the middle, flexing and twisting in her grasp. She then picked a stick from her own pile and repeated the movement, causing the stick to snap in two. Caltha’s face lit up with a grin, looking from one stick to the other.
“So all you have to do, if you’re not sure whether a twig is green…”
“Is to snap it!” Caltha clapped her hands.
“Exactly.” Rafaella gathered up her sticks and wandered, circling the remaining trees for any loose twigs she might have missed. She smiled to herself as she heard the sounds of enthusiastic snapping and cracking following behind her.
When they returned to the fire, Rafaella hung the pot from a branch perched between two forked sticks driven in to the ground. Before long, the water began to bubble as the two settled in beside the fire to warm their hands.
When the potatoes were ready, Rafaella grabbed a heavy tunic to hold the pot and drained it out near the water’s edge. When she returned Caltha decided the best option was to mash the lot and they ate from the pot, sharing a spoon. When they were finished they rinsed the pot in the stream and Rafaella laid out her blankets near the fire. Caltha looked on anxiously.
“What is it?”
“I didn’t bring any blankets. Or pillows or anything.”
Rafaella sighed, patting the blanket underneath her.
“Come on. I can’t let you freeze.” Caltha bounded over and climbed under the covers, elbowing Rafaella in the process.
“Ow! Watch those, you could cut someone with them!”
“Sorry,” Caltha said distractedly, too excited by the thought of a warm bed and a fire for the night. Rafaella arranged the satchel so it lay crosswise, barely big enough for both to use as a pillow.
As they lay there listening to the crinkle and snap of the fire, Caltha turned from her side to lay flat to face the stars.
“Rafaella?”
“Hm?”
“Before you came along I hadn’t eaten for three days. I had to walk around all night so I could keep warm. I’m glad I met you.”
“Yeah, me too.” Rafaella smiled into the satchel, nestling down for sleep.
“Um… Rafaella?”
“Yeah?”
“I can’t sleep. Can you tell me a story?”
“I don’t know. I know some, but they come from books. I don’t really remember how they go.”
“Can you make one up? Just until I go to sleep?”
“Um… okay. Uh… Long ago, in a township far away, there were two sisters called… Hett and… Wenda. Hett was the eldest, and she looked after Wenda wherever they went. One day… they set off on an adventure, an adventure that would change their lives forever…” Rafaella went on, trying to find the right words to keep the story going. After a short while she heard the soft sounds of Caltha’s snores rising up into the air. Rafaella shuffled down, burying her head in her satchel, thankful for the warmth of the blankets, Caltha’s sleeping form and the glowing embers of the fire. It was just as well Caltha had fallen asleep, she had no idea where the story was going anyway.
– 38 –
Many weeks passed and Caltha and Rafaella had become increasingly convinced that they would not find anywhere to call home ever again. They had taken to trekking during half the night and sleeping the rest of the night until sunrise. During daylight hours they made sure to travel stealthily, keeping within groves of trees and crawling in between shrubs and long grasses. Their caution, it seemed, was not warranted as they were yet to see a single soul in their travels since leaving the outskirts of Caltha’s township of Lellban. Since the day they had met, they had journeyed in a north-easterly direction, according to her compass. The potatoes had run out after the first few nights, much to Caltha’s chagrin. Rafaella cursed her lack of supplies, wishing for a moment that she had thought to bring some dried beans or corn for the journey. Since the food had run out, they had taken to eating the roots of the wild cattail plants lining the river, cooked like potatoes. Rafaella remembered Wes describing all the wild foods you could find if you knew where to lo
ok. Caltha grumbled and complained that the cattail roots weren’t as good as real potatoes, and the hairy chickweed leaves that tasted like corn silk made an unpalatable accompaniment, but the food was warm, and sustaining, and it would do for now.
The moon was almost full, providing ample light to move around without the risk of bumping into rocks or bushes. This night they had been particularly lucky in their foraging, discovering vast patches of wild asparagus stretching out across the plains, swaying in the gentle breeze. The asparagus looked nothing like the short, succulent ones Wes used to grow in their garden. This new kind were almost as long as the cattails, and they were thin and reedy, like a green version of wheat. Nevertheless, they filled their satchels with their bounty and when they couldn’t fit any more, they took to cutting down bunches and laying them in piles, securing each pile around the middle with the twine from Rafaella’s satchel.
“This is far too much to carry.” Caltha complained, as they trudged back to their fire, nestled in a grove of trees to provide cover from predators, both animal and human. The fire had reduced to a dull glow and Rafaella moved to layer some more sticks on top of the coals.
“You’ll thank me when you’re hungry a month from now. Wild asparagus is really good for you, Wes told me. We should eat lots of it tonight, then load up with a few more bunches tomorrow.”
Caltha grumbled some more, laying the asparagus on a flat stone and cutting each bunch into small, bite size pieces. She then loaded as many as she could fit in the simmering pot and waited, fists on either side of her face, pushing her cheeks forward sulkily.
When it was ready, Caltha and Rafaella quickly devoured the lot, making lots of humming noises along the way.