Words on Fire - Page 7

The soldiers left with him, and the people around me casually moved about the area, perhaps so they wouldn’t draw any suspicion our way, if the officers were nearby spying on us. When a boy ran back to say that we were safe, Violeta reached into the ferns and offered me a hand up.

By then, my ankle had stiffened worse than before, and without her holding my hand, I might have fallen. With my other hand I still kept my father’s shoulder bag close against my chest, hiding the package inside it along with its other contents.

There must have been twenty people around me, mostly older teens or people in their early twenties, all looking me over as if I had leeches on my face. I looked down at my white blouse and skirt, which were so stained with dirt that they were anything but white now. I’d lost my woven sash somewhere in my walk here, and my green apron had a rip in the side.

“I’ve seen you before, in the market,” Violeta said.

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nbsp; “What’s in that bag?” a boy near her asked.

“That’s not our business, Filip,” Violeta said sharply. “I’m sure we don’t even want to know.”

Nor could I tell them. I merely pulled it tighter to myself.

“You need to get as far from this village as possible,” Filip said. “You’ll want to stick to the forest. The Cossacks will look for you in the villages next.”

I glanced up, forcing myself to speak. “Venska. I need to go to Venska.” Then I immediately looked down.

Filip pointed northward. “Follow the path there and cross the river, then continue for about twenty kilometers; the path will split, one to the left and the other to the right. You’ll go to the right, and eventually it will empty out into Venska.”

“Twenty kilometers? So far?” I couldn’t hide the concern in my voice. As dark as the rest of the night would be under this thick canopy of branches and leaves, I was likely to wander off the path and never know it.

“If you need help—” a girl behind Violeta offered.

“I don’t.” I wanted to be clear on that. Any of them could have been arrested tonight, just like my parents, for allowing me to hide in the ferns. Or it could go worse for them. I knew how much they were risking. I would crawl to Venska on my own before I accepted any more help from these people.

“Here, take this.” Violeta removed her shawl and wrapped it around my shoulders. Then someone behind Filip passed forward a basket with some cakes in it. With my eyes lowered, I mumbled a thank-you as I accepted both gifts, then hobbled toward the path.

Minutes later, as the path wound into the deeper part of the forest, I glanced back, hoping to see my parents there, beckoning me home again. When they weren’t there, when filtered beams of lantern light from the party created long shadows among the dark trees, I turned around again. There, I faced thick brush and a winding dirt path that led to a tomorrow I could not predict. One step later, I was officially the farthest from my home that I’d ever been. And I was certain I’d never come back again.

Which was the worst thought of all.

I’d probably only walked a couple of kilometers before I became too tired and sore to continue on any farther. I tucked myself into a copse of trees far off the path and pulled the shawl tight around my shoulders to sleep, using the package from inside my father’s bag as a pillow. I doubted I’d get any real rest this way, but I didn’t care if I did. If I slept too deeply, I’d have nightmares.

I dug into my father’s bag again and pulled out a blanket he sometimes used in a trick to make a person disappear in front of a crowd of onlookers. The blanket itself wasn’t much for warmth, but it might offer me some bit of comfort tonight as I cuddled it to my chest. My eyes became sleepy, and as I closed them, I wished my father could’ve had the kind of magic to disappear when the Cossacks had come for him.

More than anything, I wished magic were real. Which made me hurt even more to know that it wasn’t—that without him, it never could be real.

I stayed curled up in that position, drifting in and out of an empty sleep that left me more tired than when I’d begun. Thankfully, it was a warm night, but still I shivered through it, out of fear and loneliness, I supposed. Finally, the sun began to rise, and with it my mood began to improve. Maybe the worst was over. Maybe the soldiers would realize it had all been a mistake, and my parents would be released, wherever they were.

I sat up, stuffed the blanket back into the shoulder bag, and ate one of the cakes, saving the rest for later, for I had no idea how long it would take to walk the rest of the way to Venska. I grabbed a nearby stick and pressed it against the side of my ankle, then used Violeta’s shawl to tie it tight to my leg. I hoped that would brace it and lessen the pain of walking. So far this morning, I’d done well for myself.

That was, until I picked up the package. The forest floor must have been a bit damp, for the cloth around the package had soaked up some moisture overnight. If the moisture had gotten to whatever was inside, I didn’t care. My mother had been right in all her pleas and protests to my father, that it would end badly. I cared nothing for whatever was in that package.

Except that my father had cared deeply about it, and my mother had, too, despite her worries. They had sacrificed their freedom for it and may yet lose their lives for it. What could possibly be so valuable?

Then something exciting occurred to me, a thought that lifted my spirits once again. If this package was so valuable, then surely it could be useful in getting my parents back! I had something the Cossacks clearly wanted, and they had my parents. Maybe we could make a trade.

My heart pounded with anticipation, with hope … but then it almost immediately sank into nothingness.

I couldn’t make a trade with the Cossacks. I didn’t know any of them personally and certainly couldn’t trust them. If I presented them with the package, they wouldn’t agree to a trade. They’d merely arrest me and take the package for themselves.

Maybe Milda could make the trade. Maybe that’s why my mother wanted this package to go to her, because she would be able to use it to get them back.

My eyes fell upon the wrapping again. I had promised to get it to Milda but never promised it would arrive unopened. I set the package on my lap and tugged at the knot, but somewhere behind me, a branch cracked. Maybe it was only an animal or a whisper of the morning breeze, but maybe not. I grabbed the basket of cakes, checked quickly to be sure I’d left nothing behind, then ran as fast as my ankle would allow.

My entire foot throbbed worse than it had last night. I didn’t think it was broken, or else I couldn’t have walked on it at all. But I was sure whatever damage I’d done to it was made worse by so much walking, which meant by the time I got to Venska, I’d be lucky if I wasn’t dragging myself to Milda’s front door.

Tags: Jennifer A. Nielsen Historical
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