Dason barreled through a patch of tall grass before hopping down into a shallow dried-up ravine. Lined by tall spruce trees, many of them broken or leaning into each other, it narrowed and then disappeared into a stand of white birch trees a little further away from them. Tala felt her heart beat a little faster. The same four white birches whose branches intertwined to form a low arch. One birch for each of us, Anjij had said with that beautiful smile of hers. The black spruce trees beside the ravine had been dead or broken even then. Past the birches was the small clearing where Anjij pitched their tent, not far from the rocky pathway that lead down to the shore where Tom tied up his fishing boat.
But Dason had been a toddler, too young to remember this. How did he know how to get here? Why was he leading her here? If he had seen Tom, he wouldn’t have come back so scared. Tala’s chest tightened. Unless—unless—Tom was hurt. Why was he so afraid someone might hear them talk? It could only be the hunter that spooked him like that. But why would Dason lead her to danger? By then Tala’s stomach was knotted up tight. She had just figured out two sure things: their father was hurt, and the hunter had found him.
Tala quickened her pace. She needed to stop Dason before they went any further. There had to be a way he could fill her in on what was happening without having to talk. She glanced a head of him to see how close they were getting to the birch trees. It was then that she saw it. Dason was heading straight towards one of those tree portals Tom always warned them against. Don’t touch them, they’ll tumble down and make compost out of you.
A huge poplar, broken and striped bare of its bark, leaned at a downwards angle against two straight spruce trees, each of them bordering opposite sides of the ravine. A little higher was another fallen tree clinging to the branches of the poplar. If the poplar fell, the other tree would crash down too. Had he figured out the danger of what even the tiniest bump against that poplar could do? She had to catch up to him before—
He came to an abrupt stop, pointed up at the tree, and continued running, clearing the tree like a leaf in the wind. She let out a deep breath and thanked the Spirit of the Tree for protecting her brother—and for helping him be a little smarter than she figured.
She made sure to stoop down low enough to avoid touching any part of the portal, but her foot slipped sideways on a rock. Her knapsack slammed into the side of the tree. A jolt of vibrations went through her as the poplar slid down a notch and dug deeper into the spruce tree. The spruce sprayed a citrusy-sweet odour into the air. She dared not move. Her heart was thumping so hard she felt it about to burst through her skin.
Dason’s mud-coated running shoes appeared in front of her and she looked up. He was in a big frenzy, pointing to his knapsack, slipping it off, shrugging it back on, and starting all over again. How could he act so crazy when the slightest move on her part could crush her to death?
Then it hit her. He was trying to tell her to slip out of her knapsack. She inched her head backwards to check and saw part of her bag was trapped where the poplar had rammed into the spruce. If not for the bag, she would’ve been bleeding into the ground right now.
One false move and the poplar would come crashing down on her. She’d have to try to slip her arms out without making any abrupt movements. Her legs were shaking from leaning over so long but she’d have to duck even lower to get at the release buckle on the straps. The lower she stooped her head, the more her stomach felt like heaving. Then after what seemed like the longest time, her fingers touched the smooth plastic buckles on the side of her bag and she clicked, releasing them both at once. She felt the straps slip from her arms and she sprang forward falling face down in the middle of the ravine. She lay there shaking, inhaling the damp soil and soft grass, until she felt Dason’s hand tugging hers. She pushed herself up, wiped the dirt and sweat from her face with the back of her hand and off they went.
The arch in the birch trees was a short distance away. Dason beckoned her to hurry. They scrambled out of the ravine and jogged on higher ground till they reached a clump of blackberry bushes just behind the trees. A loud gruff voice, the same they had heard yesterday near Tom’s pickup broke their silence. They both dove down to the ground and peered through the tangled lower branches of the birches.
Tala’s heart raced and her breath came out in gasps. Tom stood leaning to the right, the left leg of his jeans ripped open at the thigh and bandaged with a thick layer of first aid tape, his wrists tied behind a tall oak tree. He stared straight in front of him, his face emotionless. Tala wanted to run and untie him, to scream, punch and kick whoever was hurting him. Why was someone being so cruel to him? How long had he been forced to stand on that hurt leg?
Then she saw him. The very hunter who had stayed behind, wearing the same plaid shirt, his long rifle glinting in the sun’s rays, stepped into view from the pathway leading down to the shore. They had seen no sign of him on their way here. He would’ve had to follow the shorter trail through the woods to get here so fast.
“Your brats aren’t here yet, eh?” he said, cigarette hanging from his bottom lip. “Well, I ain’t waiting all day. I’ve left the flag for my guys down there. Soon as they get here you’re coming for a long boat ride.” He plonked himself down on a log facing Tom and placed his rifle on the ground beside him.
“I told you before,” Tom said, his voice calm. “You’re waiting around for nothing. My kids are at home.”
“Those kids’ bikes I found near your truck don’t belong to no squirrels,” the hunter said, throwing his lit cigarette butt in the grass. “Someone snooping around and leaving an apple beside my bear, that’s just Indian crap. Only idiot Indian kids would do that. If those nosy brats don’t show up before my guys do, don’t you worry, we’ll come back for them.”
Tala heard Dason’s muffled sobs; she reached for his hand and squeezed tight. It wasn’t a good time to lose it now. If that sicko hunter heard anything, he’d aim his rifle at them right away. They had to figure out some way to rescue Tom. Her stomach was in knots and her heart drummed deep into the earth.
“Even if they were here—which they’re not,” said Tom. “It’s me you have a problem with, not two innocent kids.”
“Wouldn’t want those brats mouthing off,” said the hunter. “When they’re finish snooping around and they catch up with their Daddy, we’ll all go on a nice family boat ride.”
“Seems to me there’s only one idiot around here,” said Tom.
The man sprang up and rammed the end of his rifle smack onto Tom’s bandaged leg.
“Smart guys like you can get killed in a hunting accident, you know. We don’t have to wait for a boat ride to take care of things.”
Tala let go of Dason’s hand to peer more closely through the branches. Tom’s head was lowered towards his chest and he was biting down hard on his lip. The hunter had sat back down and was lighting another cigarette. She sat up with her hands fisted at her side. She had to think of something before that sicko killed Tom.
She caught a quick movement from the corner of her eye and turned to see Dason crawling past the arch in the birches. He must’ve been waiting for the hunter to have his back turned. What was he thinking of doing? She couldn’t afford to go chasing after him again; she had to stay here and wait for a chance to help Tom. The hunter might decide to go check for the boat and she could run and untie Tom. Her stomach turned over at the thought of the hunter catching them in the act.
She signaled for Dason to come back. He shook his head, tears tracing tiny streamlets down his grubby cheeks. “I gotta untie him,” he whispered, and he disappeared in the tall grass.
Her heart sunk lower than it had ever been; what if she never saw him again? She felt smaller than the tiny black ants scurrying across the top of her running shoes. She was alone now with only the pain in her heart to prove all this was really happening.
Tala edged back under the branches and looked towards the clearing. The hunter was walking in wide circles, checking his watch and blowing out grey clouds of cigarette smoke. Tom was back to his normal self, his eyes following the hunter as he circled round and round. What was he thinking, tied up and trapped like a bear? Was he waiting for the right moment when the hunter would come close enough for him to give him a karate kick in the head? Almost impossible, his hurt leg couldn’t support him. Was he pleading to all the Great Spirits, was he thinking of Anjij, was he crying inside for her and Dason?
At times his eyes darted in her direction. It’d be pretty hard for him to see her since she had to squint to get a good at him through the branches. Maybe he had caught a glimpse of Dason as he slid past the opening in the trees. His hammock was attached to the same tree he was tied to. Behind it were short bushy plants and grasses. Dason had a pretty good chance of sneaking behind to untie him, but what if he was seen? What chance did Tom and Dason have against a sicko with a gun? The idea of a rifle pointing at Dason’s head sent prickles from the top of her head down to her toes and she sat up straight, ready to pounce.
Dason had left his knapsack behind, probably to make it easier to crawl without being seen. The sight of his bag made her think of hers and she glanced back to where she had left it dangling from the poplar. The ravine ran in a straight line from the birches except for a slight bend where a bunch of tall grass blocked the view of the portal for a moment as you approached it. Her eyes shifted from the stand of high grass to the thicket of tall burdock that grew alongside the portal. Just at that moment, she felt all her muscles relax and her breathing became calm and steady. She reached for Dason’s knapsack and slipped it on her shoulders.
A deep slow breath and she stood up behind the birches. She had found a way to help her family. She couldn’t lie there and watch her father and her brother being killed. What could a wounded man and a little boy do to defend themselves against a crazy gunman? If she could manage to round that bend of tall grass and dive into the burdock bush while the portal was out of the hunter’s view, her plan might work. He’d see her knapsack hanging in the portal and head straight for it. Please Great Spirit of the Tree, she prayed, help me save my family.
She pushed the branches of the birches aside and stared right at the hunter.
He swerved towards her, rifle in hand.
“Good, one of your brats,” he said and bolted after her.
Tala heard Tom scream her name and she picked up speed. She’d always been a good runner and it was only a short sprint to the bend. Loud panting and boots stomping behind. Sickly smell of body odour and cigarette smoke. Loose strands of hair in her mouth tasting of spruce sap.
Just a few more feet. Tall willowy grass.
Stay with me Great Spirit. Protect me from this hunter.
Broad green burdock leaves. Crows cawing. Wood crashing on wood. Ground trembling. Thundering gunshot.