The Boy and His Ribbon (The Ribbon Duet, #1)(17)

We were just figments of her imagination.

Ghosts she thought she saw.

Children she thought she’d met but would never remember.





CHAPTER NINE





REN



2000




THAT FIRST NIGHT, I travelled as far and as long as I could.

Della didn’t grumble or squirm, no matter how many times I stumbled over tree roots that I couldn’t see with her on my chest or ducked under low-lying branches.

Running on sealed roads was a lot easier than running through untamed wilderness, but no matter the strain on my back from carrying two different weights, and no matter the gradual aches and pains in my body the more miles I put behind us, I was happier than I’d been since…well, since I could remember.

And it didn’t make sense.

Because I had nowhere to go, no guarantee of survival, and a baby reliant on me for every tiny thing.

I ought to feel terrified and trapped, not the exact opposite.

The same river we’d followed before welcomed us back, and I fell into step with the gurgle and ripple, occasionally tripping over slippery bracken but not wanting to travel too far from its banks.

I followed it for hours, silent and serious, delving deeper and deeper into the forest.

Digging my hand into my new cargo trouser pockets, I pulled out the last thing I’d grabbed on the way out from the camping store.

A compass.

I knew enough from farming that the sun was my biggest ally and greatest foe. The only letters Mr. Mclary thought to teach me were N, S, E, W for the four corners of the world where rain lived one day and drought lived the next.

Back at the farmhouse tacked to his wall in the kitchen, hung a large map with weird squiggly lines over hills and valleys. He’d caught me looking at it one day, and instead of cuffing me around the head and kicking me from the kitchen, he’d clasped my shoulder with dirty fingers and gloated. “That’s mine, boy. Every boundary and treeline from here until as far north as Dead Goat Creek is all mine.”

I’d done my best to study how to read such a magical piece of paper that showed every piece of property he owned, but the scale didn’t make sense and the scratchings of words and numbers hadn’t been taught to someone like me.

When I’d failed to respond in whatever way he expected me to, he’d twisted my ear, dragged me past his wife feeding Della in her booster chair, then threw me out, not caring I tumbled down the stairs to the dusty ground below. “The house isn’t for the likes of you, boy. Boys stay in the barn.” He slammed the door, making it rattle on its well-abused hinges.

I blinked aside old memories and focused on the compass. The needle pointed Northwest.

I didn’t know what existed in that direction but it was the opposite of Southeast where Mclary’s farm was.

Stopping in the middle of the forest with darkness descending rapidly and roosting birds all around us, I shoved the compass back into my pocket. “I’m tired. We’ll sleep here.”

Della’s head raised from resting against my chest, her blue eyes bright and intelligent. Her little legs kicked and her hands raised, complete with filthy ribbon wafting in the air, as if to help me lift her out of the sheet sling.

“Wait.” Stiffness already cramped my muscles now that I’d given my body permission to quit moving. It was always that way after a long day of labour. Keep pushing, keep moving, and the pain couldn’t find you.

Stop…and it leapt on you like a herd of cattle.

I winced as I arched my back and let the backpack slip to the ground.

Hissing under my breath, I massaged the back of my neck where the sheet knot had dug into me for long hours. Fumbling with the tight bow, I gave up and bent myself enough to unhook it over my head.

Della slipped backward without the support.

I scowled. “Hold onto me. If you don’t, you’ll fall.”

Her lips pursed as if trying to understand but didn’t do what I asked.

“Ugh.” Wrapping my tired arm around her, I held her tight as I undid the knot at my waist and the sheet tumbled down my front. Bending, I placed her on top of it, finally ridding my body of the weight it’d been carrying for so long.

It was sheer heaven.

All I wanted to do was leap into the river and fall asleep under the stars, but I had responsibilities now. And I had to do them before all my energy deserted me.

I was used to working on dregs. I was strong and stubborn and been taught by the land that to achieve anything you had to work and work hard.

This was no different.

For the next hour, I set aside the things we’d need from my backpack, fumbled around as I figured out how to erect the tent for the first time, and spread out the one sleeping bag inside it.

Once shelter was finished, I grabbed Della, stripped her of the boy clothes she’d been dressed in, stripped myself until we were both naked as furless animals, and carried her into the river. I couldn’t let her go as the current was too swift, but I managed to at least rinse off the sweat from a long day.

Once we were semi-clean, I pinched her ribbon and used sand from the bottom to scrub it the best I could. She pouted the entire time I handled it as if not trusting me with her prized possession.

By the time we’d dried off, dressed in clean clothes, and eaten dinner of tuna fish on squashed, stolen bread rolls, my eyelids drooped and Della curled into a ball on the sheet by the small fire I’d made.