Chapter 16
Hiding
Gritting her teeth, Sarah slunk behind Matt and peered down the slope. Despite their situation, he was still so rebellious, flagrantly disobeying instructions as if he were back in Marshland Elementary.
“Matt,” she whispered, but he waved her to be quiet as he studied the activity below.
Chogan had just stepped into a clearing, which was lit by a number of small fires. Birchbark wigwams encircled a central fire and a totem pole engraved with a solemn wolf.
A tall scowling Algonquin man stood by the fire with his arms crossed. Women with long black braids and buckskin clothes tended the smaller fires. They were using clay or copper cooking pots to stew vegetables and braise skinned rabbits or fish. Other men sat cross-legged before the fires, savouring the smell of the evening meal. They bounced small children on their knees or chased older children around the camp. Some men smoked from long-stemmed clay pipes.
Most of the people were chattering or laughing—except the stern man in the middle of the camp. His eyes were coal-black, his lips a solid slash. He glared at Chogan and spoke rapidly in the musical Algonquin tongue, the words incomprehensible to Sarah, but the tone unmistakable.
Chogan shrugged his shoulders as he pointed in the direction of the cave. The man’s eyebrows arched as Chogan drew pictures in the air with his hands, tracing a massive girth and a great height. He bared his teeth and said the word “makwa” loudly enough for Sarah to hear. He was clearly giving a description of the bear.
The man’s gaze softened as he strode towards Chogan. He spoke so comfortably to the boy, in tender buttery tones, he had to be his father. Chogan lifted his bow and scratched out an imaginary height two and a half metres in the air. His father rolled his eyes. The boy smiled and readjusted his level to the two-metre size of the bear. This time his father nodded. He called over to some of the men around their respective fires.
First Chogan spoke to them. Then they murmured amongst themselves. One burly man fetched a large deerskin cloth from inside a wigwam, while two others lit torches made of birchbark coiled around a stick. Another warrior attached a short stick to his headband, with what appeared to be fungus inserted in a notch at the top. He lit this also, releasing a stream of smoke. Perhaps it was a way to repulse the miserable blackflies and mosquitoes that swarmed as soon as the sun went down. Already the insects were feasting on Sarah and Matt, who tried to swat at them as quietly as possible.
All four men headed up the slope, the torches flaring brightly and driving back the darkness like the light of an oncoming train. They aimed straight for the crest where the time travellers were watching. Sarah and Matt quickly shrank back into the shadows of the trees and ducked beneath a large shrub. Sarah caught her breath as three of the Algonquin immediately brushed past their hiding place, disturbing the bushes around them. She puffed out a sigh as the last Algonquin skirted their shelter, but a crackle centimetres away froze the air in her throat. She’d forgotten the fourth warrior.
The man peered through the leaves, an odd glint from the moon reflecting off the whites of his eyes. His bowstring was stretched back, his arrow aimed directly at her heart. Sarah’s stomach clenched; her chest tightened. This was it. They were going to die.
The man’s gaze shifted from her to Matt. His arrow traced the same pattern. Abruptly, he lowered the arrow and chuckled. He shook his head, his deep rumbling laughter startling the birds above him out of the trees. Chogan’s father called out to him. He mumbled something and winked before he followed the other men.
Sarah looked at Matt and gripped his hand even tighter. They waited to see if the warrior had still tipped off Chogan’s father to their presence, but nothing happened. Matt parted the leaves of the bush, nodded as if he was satisfied that the men had left, and crept closer to the edge of the slope. Since Sarah’s hand was still attached to his, and she doubted a crowbar could pry it off, she had no choice but to join him. She looked down into the clearing again.
Chogan and his father had returned to the main fire and were sitting beside it. A petite woman in a buckskin dress and leggings brought them a brimming container of food to share. Even from this distance, Sarah could see that she resembled Chogan. She had the same slouching round cheeks and crescent-shaped eyes. The only feature Chogan had inherited from his father was his prominent nose
Sarah touched her own nose and smiled. At least I’m not the only one.
As the trio shared their meal, a younger version of Chogan scampered up to the woman and climbed into her lap, completing the circle around the fire. It was an idyllic family scene. The four Algonquin sat together eating and chatting. Chogan’s mother smiled proudly at her son. With exaggerated gestures, he described his defeat of the monstrous bear.
Matt seemed satisfied and crawled backward to their little shelter under the shrub, dragging Sarah with him. They sat back and shared a relieved sigh. Sarah, now exhausted, leaned her head on Matt’s shoulder. He put his arm around her.
“Why do you think the man left us alone?” she whispered.
“I don’t know,” said Matt.
“He really looked like he was going to shoot us.”
“I guess we’re not much of a threat.”
“True,” said Sarah. “But he didn’t even turn us in.”
“Look at it this way,” Matt whispered. “We’re two dirty shivering kids, huddled down in the dark outside their camp. There’s no danger of our mounting an attack on their village. Maybe the chief has no sympathy for strange starving children. So, he thought, I’ll let them go. If they do cause a problem, well, fifty strong-armed warriors should be able to take care of them.”
“You think?” Sarah smiled.
Matt rested his head against her hair. “I know.”
“Matt. You almost make getting thrown into a time machine by a wicked witch, getting attacked by a bear, and being nearly impaled by an arrow seem like a great adventure.”
“Really?”
“Almost.”
The hours dragged by. Soon the darkness thickened; the Algonquin must have extinguished their cooking fires. The men, women and children had likely crawled into their tents, since silence settled over the camp. Sarah and Matt were numb with fatigue; energy seeped out of their weary bodies like yogurt through a sieve. They stretched out on the carpet of pine needles, their stomachs groaning from hunger.
Sarah was almost asleep when a hand shook her shoulder. She blinked and sat up. A dark creature loomed over her. She clapped a hand to her mouth.
“Repas,” whispered Chogan. Supper.
“Oh, it’s you,” she said with a sigh.
He placed a wooden bowl in her lap. He seemed much smaller, now that he wasn’t hovering over her.
Chogan turned to Matt and shook him awake. He shoved another wooden bowl into his hands. “Mangez,” he said, making a chewing motion with his mouth.
Matt dipped his hand into the bowl and pinched a small morsel. He sniffed it. His face lit up as he bit down. “Fish,” he said.
Sarah grasped an even smaller portion. She chewed gingerly, savouring the soft flakey texture and little gushes of juice. Matt eagerly crammed more food into his mouth.
“This is delicious,” he said. “I think it’s trout.”
“There’s some kind of vegetable and wild rice, too,” said Sarah, poking the food with her fingers. Before long, she was stuffing her mouth full. The hole in her stomach slowly filled.
“Merci,” she whispered to Chogan. The Algonquin boy grinned and rubbed his tummy. He flipped a bearskin blanket off his shoulder and handed it to her. Sarah smiled as she accepted it, speechless with gratitude. Chogan touched her shoulder, then crept back to camp.
Sarah and Matt crawled under the bearskin and snuggled down to sleep. Sarah would have tumbled headlong into her dreams, but Matt wouldn’t let her fall. Obviously the food had perked him up.
“How long do you think Chogan can keep us a secret?” he whispered.
“What if that older warrior comes back and slits our throats in our sleep?”
“Then we won’t know it, will we? Go to sleep, Matt. We can worry more tomorrow. Right now I don’t have the energy.”
Matt pulled the skin up around his chin. He fell silent. Sarah was so exhausted, she didn’t care if a whole band of First Nations people impaled them in their sleep. Or if the French and British armies clashed right here in this clearing. Anyway, it seemed quite secure between the trees, with their stomachs full and the blanket tucked around them. Chogan was looking after them. What could possibly happen?
She didn’t notice the four Algonquin return with the carcass of the bear. They dragged it right past their den in the forest. The fourth warrior turned his keen eyes towards them. He grinned as he saw the glint of Matt’s pale hair in the moonlight.
Time Meddlers Page 19
