by Candy Rae
The hunters found the site where the children had spent their first night.
Laura strode into the clearing, bow at the ready, her eyes raking its length and breadth for any danger. “All clear,” she shouted back to the three men as she stopped in the middle of the deserted campsite, waving them forward.
They stepped forward warily, hands poised to grab their weapons if danger threatened.
“Long gone,” stated Jim with a sigh of resignation. Looking round, he added, “They were here though. There are traces of their footsteps passing back and fro and indentations where they rested.”
“I agree,” said James, bending down and picking up a half-buried food wrapper. “A lot more of these overlarge paw prints as well.”
“Fire too,” stated Francis, kicking the ashes with one large booted foot. “Been at least a couple of days since they were here I reckon, perhaps more.”
“It’s taken us time to track them through the woods,” stated Jim, sitting down on a fallen tree stump after looking over it thoroughly for any infestations of the nasty little yellow ant-like creatures that bit like fury if they were disturbed. “We kept losing the tracks, especially when the footprints disappeared.”
“I believe they’re riding the beasts,” was Laura’s contribution.
“You may well be right,” said Jim. “It’ll make them that much harder to track though.” He sighed gustily, “I’m tired to the bone. I vote we stay here tonight. We need a decent rest and we may pick up some clues before nightfall.” He was still breathing hard from the climb up to the campsite. Older than the other three by more than a decade, he was finding the going tough. He was absolutely certain that before this hunt was ended he would be much fitter and have shed more than a few pounds in weight. He had already tightened his belt a notch.
It was during an exploration foray just outside the clearing that they came across the note. It was from Kath who, realising that someone would be detailed to follow them, had decided to put that someone in the picture. Francis found the note when he was poking around in the undergrowth where, had he known it, Kath and Matvei had rested together before setting out again.
He ran back into the clearing waving the small piece of folded durapaper excitedly.
The other three clustered around as with trembling hands he carefully opened the folds.
“It’s from Kath Andrews,” he said. “It says, ‘Don’t worry. We are twelve. Will return three months. No point following. Tell parents well and happy. The Lind are friendly. Kath.’ Well, what d’you think of that?”
“The Lind? Who or what are they?”
“Don’t worry! That’s a bit rich!”
“Doesn’t tell us much does she?”
Jim interrupted what was turning out to be a tirade of exasperated comments.
“It does tell us that they are safe and well. What we have to decide is whether to accept this note and return to the settlement with the news or to go on regardless.”
“I think we should go on,” said James. “Perhaps Kath was coerced into writing the note. The parents would expect us to go on until we find them and I must find Kath.”
“I agree with James,” said Laura decisively. “We cannot return without them. Anyway, James would continue on his own if need be.”
She looked at James mischievously, her brown eyes twinkling. “I think the lad’s smitten.”
Jim chuckled.
James looked embarrassed, blushed a deep red and Francis broke out into an ear-splitting guffaw. This type of banter appealed to his sense of humour.
“She got you there mate,” he said and laughed some more.
Jim looked at Francis.
“Well?” he asked. “What do you think? Do we go on?”
Unaccustomed to his opinion being sought, Francis looked surprised. “We go on,” he said, “and now that’s decided, I’m going hunting. We need decent food. Nuts, roots and fruit are okay for a short trip, but more protein is a necessity. We can cook the meat from one of these sheepy animals; it should keep for quite a few days if wrapped.”
On the word, he was gone, Laura following in his wake. Hunting was easier with two.
The two remaining hunkered down, backs against a large tree.
“Let me have a look at the map,” said Jim.
“It’s a bit vague,” said James as he took it out of his back pocket.
Both men examined it. Jim’s forefinger pointed to a grid-point within the forest. “We are about a one-day walk from the edge of the plains,” he declared with confidence. His finger moved across the expanse of plain on the map. “Jumping cockroaches, it must go on for miles!”
James agreed with him. He was by far the best map-reader in the party. After the intricacies of three-dimensional star maps, the two-dimensional durapaper map in front of him was child’s play.
“We are about a day’s walk from its edge, maybe two,” he agreed. “After that it is miles and miles of open grassland. Virtually no cover either. We should be able to track them easily. Only problem I can see is that anyone watching us will also have no trouble seeing us, with few if any places to hide there. If they are riding then they will be able to go much faster than we can. Remember the length of those strides?”
“Yes,” his companion admitted ruefully, “we are in for a long trip.”
“Aye, but what is at the end of it, I ask you that?”
Silence. There was no answer Jim could offer.
* * * * *
