The Boy and His Ribbon (The Ribbon Duet, #1)(8)

All I knew was I needed something other than fish and rabbit to curb my ravenous appetite. I needed a brush to clean the fur from my teeth. I needed clothes that didn’t reek. I needed a break from the girl making my life a living hell.

When I’d first run from Mclary, I shouldn’t have entered the forest for fear of getting lost or dying, but thanks to my will to survive and basic education, I’d excelled better than I hoped. I didn’t know what direction I travelled in most of the time, and I didn’t know where I was going, but each day was a success if we ate, drank, and slept in safety.

Now, I was about to leave the sanctuary of the wilderness and do something else I probably shouldn’t do. In fact, something I most definitely shouldn’t do in my current stinky state with a listless baby who slept more often than cried these days.

If I’d survived better, I wouldn’t need to do this.

If I didn’t have an unwanted passenger, I wouldn’t have to do this.

Cursing Della all over again, I gritted my teeth and took the first step from twigs and branches, trading it for paint and concrete.

Nothing happened. No one noticed. No bullet lodged in my skull.

I waited, twitching like a deer, sniffing the air, testing the waters.

When the night sky stayed silent and nothing suspicious moved, I gathered my bravery and slunk farther from the treeline.

Using the cover of darkness, I sneaked closer toward the small township in the distance.

Just like I didn’t know where I was, I didn’t know the exact time, but most houses were dark, no cars on the road, no people or noise or life.

The perfect time to steal the supplies I needed and then split.

Hoisting the backpack further up my shoulders, I stiffened, waiting for Della to make a sound. She’d been quiet all afternoon in her dirty carrier, and it was past time to eat.

Normally, by now, she’d grizzle and squirm enough to make me give up travel for the day and find somewhere to sleep.

Tonight, she didn’t make a peep.

That ought to have relaxed tight muscles instead of digging my worry deeper.

I still hadn’t forgiven her for making my escape so hard, but I’d lasted this long, and I’d fought too hard to ensure she lasted, too.

She owed me.

I didn’t talk to her often, but when I did, I always earned a sunshine smile or serious stare. I supposed this would be a good moment to speak kindly, to reassure both her and myself that we wouldn’t get caught and would be better equipped once this visit was over.

“Don’t worry, Della Mclary. I’ll get you something yummy to eat tonight.” I patted where her butt would be and strode onward.

I didn’t focus on how much lighter she was these days or how hard running had been on both our bodies.

Sticking to the shadows, I stalked through suburbia. Pretty, well-kept houses with tidy lawns and painted garden furniture—so unlike the paint-peeling unkemptness of the farmhouse—welcomed me in silver moonlight.

I kept going, heading deeper into family territory and totally unfamiliar concepts of slides and swings and paddling pools left unguarded on front lawns.

I didn’t stop. I didn’t dally.

I was hunting for a supermarket. Something I could smash my way into, stuff my backpack full of things, then vanish back into the forest unseen.

But the deeper I travelled through manicured verges and swept streets, the more my hope deflated. I wasn’t in the heart of the town where such things as stores and restaurants existed.

I was in sleepyville where children from the TV show slept soundly in safe beds with kind-hearted parents to watch over them.

I continued down the road, no longer finding the houses pretty but mocking. Mocking me with everything I’d been denied and everything I ever wanted.

One particular house hurt my stupid ten-year-old heart as I stopped on its pavement and stared. Its blue and white paint, warm wood veranda, and large bay windows whispered of peace and somewhere to rest.

The large doorknob begged me to turn it and stroll right in, to claim a bed as my own, and forget all my worries forever.

Della’s knee dug into my spine as she wriggled.

“Quit it.” I growled over my shoulder.

A tabby cat shot from a pruned rose bush, darting past my feet and sending my pulse jumping. With the adrenaline shot came hunger so vicious and slicing, I stumbled and clutched my empty middle.

A small cry came from within the backpack. A cry that mimicked my craving. A cry she knew she shouldn’t utter but couldn’t help escaping.

I didn’t even have the energy to elbow her into quietness again.

Who was I kidding?

There wasn’t a supermarket or dumpster or any hope of a large area of food ready to be stolen. The only choice I had before I buckled on the sidewalk was to pick one of the dozing households surrounding me, and I’d already made my selection.

The house in front of me.

The one that welcomed me to take what was inside as if it’d been waiting for this very moment.

Once the idea popped into my head, I didn’t think twice.

“Be quiet.” I jiggled the straps on my shoulders. “You hear me?”

Silence was my answer.

“Good.”

Looking left and right, I bypassed the blue fence and pebble pathway guiding to the entrance and slithered through the shadows toward the back door. Even the service side of the house was well tended with clean rubbish bins.