The Runaway

by Claire Wong

  “You can do whatever you like, Ifan, but you’re still going to have to go home and live with everyone afterwards. Don’t do something you don’t want to be known for.”

  Like interrupting a fundraising event and destroying school property, I think. But maybe I’ve judged this wrong. Maybe Ifan is more afraid of being known for letting this slide than for teaching Callum a lesson. Either way, he isn’t backing down. I hope Callum is glad we tried.

  “OK, everyone, let’s take a step back for a moment!” a new voice calls as Adam arrives in the clearing. He is out of breath, and I can only guess that he must have run all the way here. Now he stands between Callum and Ifan, his hands open in an unthreatening gesture.

  “You again,” says Ifan.

  “You need to stop. The police are on their way, and if you don’t stand down now you will all be arrested. Go home and put this behind you!”

  “What good is a law if it doesn’t allow a man to defend himself? This one attacked me, and insulted me too.”

  “For the hundredth time, Ifan,” Callum shouts, “there was no insult to you! It was Diana I was fed up with. Even Nia could see that, and she tried to tell you that’s what really happened.”

  I see what flickers across Ifan’s face. He’s working out when he last saw Nia, which will be before she and Grace came to warn us. His expression contorts with the self-righteous anger of someone deciding that everyone they know is turning against them.

  “You persuaded her to take your side, to help you!” he rages, reaching a conclusion that is both true and deluded all at once.

  “If you learned to listen, there wouldn’t have to be any sides,” I snap, because I am getting really fed up with Nia being blamed for everything around here.

  “And you,” he rounds on Adam. “You were helping this one from the start, weren’t you? All those days of going into the woods for your sister’s research were a cover, weren’t they? You come here as a stranger, you stay in my house as a guest, and this is how you repay my hospitality?”

  A change seems to have come over Adam. Before now, I’ve noticed that he can look content while he secretly contemplates serious things, and equally appears solemn if you don’t know to look for the glimmer of mischief. Now I think his face shows exactly what he feels. He looks directly at Ifan, the firelight casting sharp shadows around his eyes, and he seems both weary and angry at once. Ifan somehow manages not to back away from this expression.

  “I am not as much an outsider as you like to think,” Adam says. “I was almost one of you. My father was born here in Llandymna, and lived here until people like you drove him away and forgot him.”

  For a while, Ifan does not know what to do with this knowledge. After a few stuttered moments of uncertainty, an idea comes to him.

  “So that is why you are doing this! You have created a nice little war between us here, encouraging Tom to use his authority against us, keeping Callum here as bait, and now you’ll watch as we destroy each other, and you will have your revenge, satisfied to know that all your father’s enemies were beaten through your own actions.”

  This is surprisingly well thought out for Ifan, and worse still it sounds almost plausible. If someone wanted to hurt Llandymna, that would be a sure way of doing it. Can we have been deceived all this time? For a horrible moment I wonder whether it could be true. Then I remember that revenge is the only motive Ifan understands at the moment. Of course he would assume that everyone else wants it too.

  “That can’t be true, can it?” Callum asks me.

  “Of course not,” I assure him.

  “But they did tell us not to avoid the fighting. It’s because of him we’re here, isn’t it?”

  “No, moron,” I hiss, not wanting Adam to overhear us. “They told us we couldn’t run away forever, but they didn’t want us to get drawn into a fight. That was your choice, remember?”

  “I don’t want revenge any more,” says Adam. The “any more” startles me. How strange to think that he of all people might once have been a little like Ifan.

  “Then you clearly don’t care that much about your father, or what happened to him. Or maybe he brought you up to be a coward.”

  Adam laughs at the conclusion Ifan has reached. “You didn’t know him, and that’s entirely your loss. He could have come to pay back the people who drove him out. He chose not to. Because at some point it stops being about justice, doesn’t it? Your measure of what’s right and fair gets twisted up and stained with anger so that you can only think about the retaliation that will make you feel better, make you feel less wounded. Except it never really helps – you just have to pretend the act of vengeance was enough, because if you don’t, you might go mad trying to feel the world was fair again. Emrys managed to break free of that.”

  Ifan’s look of defiance and contempt barely wavers, but to me it is as if Adam’s words have lifted a curtain off the man, and I see him, and everyone like him, so clearly for the first time. Those words must have been Emrys’s – Adam has never come close to uttering a speech like that before now. I scan the faces of all the gathered men opposite and wonder if they feel trapped.

  “What will you do?” Ifan sneers. “Stand there and preach at me instead?”

  “If you’re set on proving a point tonight,” he sighs, “at least let it be fair. Fight someone more your own size than this lad.”

  “You think anyone would face me in Callum’s place?”

  “Yes.”

  “Who?”

  “Me.”

  They certainly look more equally matched. Callum’s foot still hasn’t quite mended; lack of medical attention means he’s got used to hobbling slightly wherever he goes. Unlike last time, Ifan is sober and alert today, and easily the stronger of the two in spite of his own injuries. Adam, on the other hand, is almost as broad-shouldered as Ifan, and has spent his life hauling wood and repairing fences, not sitting around in pubs on match days. I wonder if Callum will be insulted by Adam’s offer to take his place; if his pride will refuse to allow anyone to protect him. But he does not look offended. He looks astounded and confused.

  “Why take his place? The brat doesn’t deserve it.”

  “No, he doesn’t,” Adam replies simply, as if this were not the important point at all, “but you will still have your fight and your chance for revenge, which is what you want, isn’t it?”

  Ifan’s eyes narrow. He does not trust this deal. No man offers such terms without a catch, least of all a stranger with nothing to gain and a grudge against everyone for how they have treated his father. It makes no sense.

  Callum’s face is fraught with guilt. I know he will not be able to forgive himself if Adam should be hurt. But something else is happening. The others are looking decidedly uncomfortable. Apparently the people of Llandymna have warmed to Emrys’s son. Where they saw a kind of old-fashioned appeal to bringing Callum to justice, turning on Adam is not something anyone is prepared to do. Hesitantly, they back off and Ifan gives a shout of fury and dismay as he realizes he is being abandoned. As he reaches around for new ways to convince them, other noises interrupt him. Behind them, I see the flashes of electric torches through the trees, and shouts of people fast approaching. Among the voices, I recognize that of Tom Davies.

  “I did warn you,” Adam says quietly, with an apologetic shrug.

  Ifan turns his back on him and prepares to meet the approaching onslaught. “Hold your ground!” he orders the rest of them. “We’ve done nothing wrong here.”

  For once, however, Ifan’s boldness is not enough to convince his followers, who scatter in all directions trying to avoid arrest.

  Chapter five

  Rhiannon

  What follows is chaos. Police officers and their dogs crash into the clearing as people run in all directions. One man is immediately pinned down by two officers, who put handcuffs on him.

 
One down, five more to go, I think. But they scatter, and the police have only come into these woods during the day when searching for me. Dyrys at night is another matter, and I’m not surprised to see Ifan disappear into the shadows while another man is being stopped. Adam, Callum, and I stand still in the clearing, waiting for someone to try to arrest or at least question us, but the police are more interested in stopping Ifan and his followers, and we find ourselves left standing alone.

  “What do we do?”

  “Stay out of trouble,” Adam answers. “Let the police do their work here.”

  “Did Grace and Nia make it back OK?” I ask.

  “I haven’t seen them,” he replies.

  “You didn’t pass them on the road out of Dyrys?”

  “No.”

  “They must have gone to your house, like you told them to,” says Callum.

  “I hope so,” I say, wondering if they really would be able to find the way there in poor light, with so many people running around in the woods, “but we should go and make sure.”

  If they aren’t there, I don’t know how we will find them. But if they are, then we can all shelter in the mill house until everything calms down. I have food and water for us to wait out the night if necessary.

  “Oi!” A shout cuts into my thoughts. Through a gap in the trees, we see Ifan, with his burning branch still over his shoulder. The barking is distant and muffled, telling me there are no police officers nearby right now. It will be harder to lose him in the woods if he has a light source and we do not.

  “Split up,” Adam mutters as Ifan approaches.

  “What? No!”

  “Rhiannon, Ifan is after Callum. If we draw him away, you can get to your house and make sure Grace and Nia are OK. I can’t do it: I don’t know how to find the place – you’ve got that thicket all around it, remember? Please, go and find them. We’ll distract Ifan until the police can catch up.”

  He is earnest, and I realize he must be worried for his sister, not knowing where she is. I look from one face to the other, silently praying for their safety tonight, and then I turn away and run out into the dark corridors of the forest. It is almost unbearably difficult to keep running and not look back.

  It’s too dark to see anything at all, and I navigate the woods with no more than a memory of the path and by feeling the slope of the ground beneath my feet. I’ve often walked through these places at night, but then there was time to spare, time to waste in pretensions of grandeur and formality, which left me the ordered control of mind with which to choose a direction. Now I have only a moment to guess the turn between the trees, darting between the jagged branches.

  I fall straight into the thicket and clamber over it, tearing myself free from the thorns that pull at my clothes. Sliding down the bank towards the night-black stream, I call Grace and Nia’s names, and soon footsteps hurry towards me. I pull myself up to my feet as they reach me.

  “Rhiannon? What is it?”

  “You’re here. Thank goodness. In all the chaos, we weren’t sure you’d have made it to safety.”

  “We’re fine, but what are you doing here? Weren’t you and Callum supposed to be a long way from here by now?” asks Grace.

  “I know, I know. He wanted to go back.”

  My heart is beating so fast now, I am sure everyone else must be able to hear it. Then I remember that if I am frightened, it must be nothing compared to what Nia feels right now. She eluded Ifan to warn us, and anyone could predict that he will not thank her for that. What’s more, she is in an unfamiliar place, with people she barely knows, unable to do anything else to help them.

  “As long as you’re not seen, you should be safe,” I tell them, “and the forest is wide enough that they might well pass this place without even knowing it is here. Otherwise… I could try to get you back to the village unseen.”

  “We can’t go out into the forest now,” says Grace firmly. “With everything that’s happening tonight, it would be a miracle to make it out unhurt.”

  Before she can continue, Grace spies something past my head that makes her stop our talking. I turn to see the glimmering torchlights approaching even now. I know I’ve nothing to fear from the police, but equally every moment they spend identifying us is a moment not spent finding Ifan and making sure he doesn’t hurt anyone. The other two seem to have had the same thought. We drop to the ground silently so that the beams will not pick out our faces. I can hear them now, drawing nearer in a clash of confused shouts that I cannot discern.

  The noise of the dogs is getting fainter all the time. I sigh with relief as one set of footfalls flees past the edge of the thicket and keeps on running. In the next instant all my relief vanishes as with a splintering crash someone falls straight through the boundary. He grunts, and curses the forest for being so dense and painful. He’s lying right next to where Nia is hiding. If he turns his head just slightly, he will be able to see her pale form among the shadows. I can see her edging tentatively away, holding her breath as she tries to move out of sight.

  Then he decides to pull himself back up to his feet, and at once he sees her. She springs backwards, but not quickly enough, as he grabs her by the arm and tries to pull her towards him so he can identify her. As they both step into a patch of light, we too can identify him. It’s Ifan.

  “You!” he says as he recognizes Nia, still gripping her wrist so that she cannot get away. The burning branch he carried is lying on the ground where he dropped it. I glance over to Grace, and then realize what I am about to do. I miss running away: it was so much easier. I stand up slowly, so as not to startle anyone.

  “Ifan! All this has nothing to do with Nia,” I call. He notices me, but says nothing. Around us, shadows flicker and I think I catch sight of other figures moving around beyond the boundary, but no torches to announce the presence of the police. The only light is where the flames of Ifan’s torch have jumped to a patch of brambles and now dance over the thorns.

  I walk slowly up to them. I do my very best to look calm and keep myself from shaking as I approach. My heart is racing, but I give him a level stare and reiterate, steadily, “Nothing to do with her.”

  He tries to hold my gaze, but maybe there is something too disconcerting about this runaway girl who looks so calm in the midst of fighting and chaos. Either way, he cannot meet my eyes for long, and he glances frantically from me to Nia and back again. Very slowly, so as not to startle anyone into a defensive reaction, I move closer to the two of them and reach out to the hand grasping her arm. I lift his hand away, the way you might separate a child from something valuable they should not have picked up. He puts up no resistance – he seems too surprised at my confidence, and almost relieved to have an excuse to let her go. Nia at once takes a step back, out of anyone’s reach, and stands with her back to the house, her arms folded around herself. Her wide eyes dart from face to face in the gloom. We all follow her gaze to Ifan, wondering what he will do next. He stares at her for a while before he speaks.

  “You took his side,” he says, sounding childishly plaintive.

  “No,” she shakes her head. “I always know better than to take sides. You just wouldn’t listen when I tried to explain it all to you. Hasn’t this gone far enough now?”

  Ifan looks surprised. I wonder if this is the most direct Nia has ever been towards him. He backs away so that he is once again outside the border of my land. I cannot guess which way he will go next: will he resume raging around the forest, or have an epiphany of self-awareness? As he takes the next step, his foot catches the burning branch and knocks it further into the thicket.

  The wood that I spent many a day weaving together under the watchful eye of a hawk, fashioning a boundary to keep out the world, has withered and dried out with time, and it now goes up in flames in a matter of seconds. We are separated from Ifan by the fast-growing wall of fire.

  “Ifan!” T
om’s voice is accompanied by the barking of dogs. I see him and Callum lit up in the firelight now. Ifan takes in the sight as well, and then runs in the opposite direction.

  “OK, I’ve got this,” Tom says to Callum. “Thanks for your help.”

  He starts to chase after Ifan. Callum stays behind.

  “We tried to lead him back towards the police,” he calls. “Are you able to get around this blaze?”

  The fire is spreading fast, lapping up the dead wood in tongues that keep growing. It is only now that I see how blind I have been to the full danger we are in. If the thicket surrounds us, then so too will the fire.

  I rush to the far end of the land I once called mine, but already the flames are eating away at the furthest part of the boundary. Shaking now, I go back to Grace and Nia, and tell them what I have seen. We are completely surrounded. The flames are creeping in from the fence, leaping onto the living trees now. I hear Callum shouting, and then Adam’s voice joins in, but the fire itself makes too much noise for us to hear them.

  “Get away from there!” Grace shouts. Nia and I are standing dangerously close to a tree that has caught light and is beginning to drop burning twigs and dried leaves on us, so that the fire seems to be falling from the sky, as well as drawing in on all sides. We stand in a more open space at the centre of my land, looking around and trying to quell any rising panic. Nia’s eyes dart about for any sign of an escape route, while Grace says nothing as she assesses our situation. Smoke billows in, and though I try not to breathe it in, I start to choke and splutter as it surrounds me. There is a sudden crash and, whirling around, we see a silhouette break through the wall of flames, roll along the ground and then jump back up.

  “Have you gone mad?” demands Grace, helping her brother to his feet and beating out the flames that have attached themselves to his arm.