We continued our journey north, keeping the river to our left.We would only stop to rest or when my mother recognised an edible plant.Sometimes we’d find bitter greens, root vegetables, or her favourite – fungi.
I dropped to one knee in the long grass to look at leaves something small had munched on.There were rabbit droppings further back.At least one rabbit, possibly more.Eager for fresh meat, we moved inland while I tracked the small game, just as Olaf had taught me.
‘Why don’t you hunt, and I’ll set up camp by the silver birches?It looks like a good place to settle for the night.’
I was pleased that she was allowing me some time alone to hunt.I loved my mother, but since we had been travelling, she had stuck to my side and scared away many a night’s dinner.
‘I will keep your father’s knife to dig up root vegetables that I might find on the way.’She tucked it into her belt.‘You can use it to clean and skin whatever you catch when you reach the campsite.’My mother headed towards the trees, carrying most of our belongings.
Something quick and tawny darted from a little mound to my right.I knelt, slowly took my bow from my shoulder, notched an arrow, and let it fly.
Pleased with myself for catching something so soon, I waited for another rabbit to emerge.I looked forward to seeing Mother’s face when I showed up with two rabbits.
The wind carried the sound of voices from the river.There was laughter and splashing, but I couldn’t say if the voices were male or female.
I wanted to know who the voices belonged to, but I also wanted to catch a second rabbit.
The elusive rabbit appeared, and with a slow exhale, I took it down with another clean shot.Taking my rabbits with me, I headed to the river.
I kept myself hidden in the long grass running along the riverbank as I approached the voices.
Two boys were trying to drown each other in the water.
There was splashing from the submerged boy’s arms as he reached behind him to grab his assailant.The other boy whistled a merry tune as he drowned the struggling boy.
The splashing slowed, and still the whistling boy didn’t release him.
I thought about shooting an arrow at him.Not to kill him, but maybe if I could get his shoulder, it would be enough to stop him.But before I could, he let go and made a beeline straight for the riverbank.
I ducked down behind the long grass, getting as flat as possible, and peered through the blades of grass.
He reached the bank and hauled himself up with young, muscular arms.Before he turned around to see where the other boy was, I caught a glimpse of high cheekbones, a firm chin and a broad brow.His eyes were dark, almost as black as the long, spiky lashes surrounding them.He pushed his wet hair back from his face, revealing a scar along his left cheek.
It spread across his skin like the delicate lines of ferns that grew in the shade.Starting below his hairline, it ran across his brow but just missedhis eye, fanning out on the top of his cheekbone.The scarring trailed down his neck and onto his shoulder, ending below his heart.
I couldn’t imagine how painful receiving a scar of that size would be.Or what could cause it.
I was relieved to see the other boy appearing on the bank alive and well, swearing and spluttering.
I tried to make myself smaller, hoping they wouldn’t see me as they dressed.
They were tall – taller than me, anyway.Their bodies were mostly hairless, apart from their armpits and groins.These boys were exceedingly angular and gangly.They looked as though they didn’t eat as much as they needed, but their lean, muscular arms and legs revealed they were used to working hard nonetheless.
The second boy’s face became visible as he moved closer to where I was hiding.Like a wet dog, he shook his curly brown hair at his friend.His smile was big, and he also had a pleasant face with wide, friendly eyes and a sharp jawline.I couldn’t see the colour of his eyes well, but they looked brown or perhaps hazel.
His voice was deep, however, it got higher as he yelled at his friend as they fought over whose boots were whose.
I hadn’t been around many people my age.I guessed they were a few years older than me.Maybe fourteen or fifteen winters old?There was something familiar about them I couldn’t place – as if I had met them before.I was tempted to reveal myself, but I didn’t want them to know I had been watching them in case they got angry at my spying.
They finished dressing and continued to laugh and push at each other playfully, but soon, they went quiet.With bowed heads and heavy feet, they headed into the woods, and I watched them until they disappeared entirely from my view.
With a hollow feeling deep in my gut, I walked towards the birch trees on the hill.I regretted not revealing myself to them and felt as if the boyshad taken something I wanted with them.I had the wild urge to run after them and ask for it back.
Climbing the little hill, I found myself in the grove of birch trees.‘Mother?’When there was no answer, I realised I had arrived at our campsite before her.
I collected some kindling to have ready for the fire and waited for her arrival under a large birch tree with my bow and rabbits.Its soft branches swayed gently in the warm breeze.
Feeling drowsy, I briefly closed my eyes while I waited for my mother.
