by Candy Rae
Eight sat round the campfire where twelve had sat before the war, each remembering those who had not returned.
Thomas, his mind teeming with ideas for the future; happy-go-lucky Moira who had not wanted to go to the war but had done so nonetheless; and the twins Bill and Geoff, who had wanted to go to the war in order to avenge the murder of their family.
Nobody wanted to be the first to speak. The eight gazed into the flickering flames.
“I’ve thought of a poem,” said Tara at last, not being able to stand the heavy silence any longer.
“What’s the title?” asked Kath in a dull voice.
“I’ve called it ‘Children of the Wolves’. It’s not very good, at least not yet. As I thought of it, it seemed to help me to understand what has happened to us all. It’s helped.”
“Children of the Wolves?” exclaimed Kath. “That’s what Yvonne called us at the beginning. People called us that at the settlement.”
She looked at the flickering face of Tara who had gone back to staring into the flames. “I’d like to hear it.”
“If you’re sure,” answered Tara. “It’s not a very happy poem. It’s about all that’s happened to us since then. ”
“I’d still like to hear it,” insisted Kath.
“And me,” said Alan and the others said the same.
Tara, in her singsong voice began to speak the verses she had composed; she did not look into the faces of the other seven;
“Twelve children set out for the west that day,
Confused, bemused, yet happy and gay.”
Before she had gone any further there were tears to be seen on the cheeks of Kath and Emily. Brenda was openly weeping.
With a catch in her voice Tara continued. She was crying now but they were healing tears, they all felt it. She came to the last verse.
“But we ‘Children of the Wolves’ will live on and shout,
With resounding voice, all eight will chant out.
We’ll fight to live with thee and thine,
Free in the land which now is mine!
Be still, my rtathen.”
There was silence where Tara’s voice had been.
This silence continued for a long time.
Not one of those gathered round the campfire wanted to be the one who would break it.
“What do we do now?” asked Alan at last.
“We stay here,” answered Emily. “I’m going to begin my medical studies, properly this time. Winston Randall says he’ll take me on.”
“It’s definitely the Vada for me,” declared Alan.
“Me too,” said Mark. “Francis is going to build it up again better than ever. He’s taking us to the plains to the south of the rtathlians and he told me that he’s going to begin what he calls a ‘full training programme’.”
“Who is doing the training?” asked Alan, “Francis himself?” This was the first Alan had heard of a ‘full training programme’ and he wanted to learn more.
“I think he’d like to but he told me that the Vada needs a professional and that he was going to approach one. I don’t know who or what happened though, so don’t ask. Francis hasn’t said anything, at least to me. One thing’s for sure and Francis knows it, this is not the end of the war. I too feel it in my bones that we’ll be fighting the Larg for many a long year.”
“I agree,” said Kath, “but soldiering is not for me and Matvei. We’re staying right here. James and I have a family to bring up.”
“Yvonne and I are going to the Vada too,” announced Brenda.
“You two in the Vada,” exclaimed Mark. “Wonders will never cease! I would have thought you’d be wanting to take things easy!”
“That was before,” countered Yvonne. “We’ve changed.”
“Or been changed,” vouchsafed Kath in a quiet voice, thus effectively putting a stop to Mark’s teasing.
“I just want to stay here with my Mum,” said Peter in a whisper. He looked embarrassed.
Mark opened his mouth to say something and Tara noticed. “Leave him be,” she said. “He’s only eleven, plenty of time to make up his mind.”
“And you Tara, what are your plans?” asked Kath.
“I’m staying with the Randalls for now,” she replied, her eyes distant.
“Then?” pressed Brenda.
“I’m going to be a famous author,” her voice rang out in the clearing, “but first and foremost I am and always will be Kolyei’s Girl, one of the ‘Children of the Wolves’.”
“My girl,” agreed Kolyei, “but not a Child of the Wolf, you are a Child of the Lind,” and so had the last word, as usual.
* * * * *
