Back at the village, Sawnay were moving around as if they were doing their regular morning routines. People carried armfuls of firewood, others woven bark baskets laden with food. Everyone smiled warmly as I passed by, the stranger from another world, the world they’d left behind to avoid a shift that would’ve seen the end to their traditional way of life.
Children frolicked about, calling out in Sawnay. Dogs scampered and sniffed. At the entrances of dew-glistening tepees, women shook out heavy furs, reminding me of my mother shaking out damp linen on warm spring and summer days before she hung it on the line.
Still groggy, like they’d just woken up, Conroy and the others were sitting on a log bench outside the longhouse near a small fire that hadn’t been burning when I left. The sun hadn’t fully risen above the treetops surrounding the shaded village. It was noticeably cooler than it had been at the riverbank.
“Thought maybe you got yourself lost,” said Colby, who was bent over wiping his Nikes clean again, only this time with a piece of hide.
I sat down next to Conroy, who had a fur draped over his shoulders like a cape. “Tabby told me what happened on the bluff,” he said.
So much had happened that it took a moment for me to grasp what he was referring to. “Yeah, pretty crazy,” I said.
“Pretty crazy, man, that was crazy times a hundred. No, no, no, make it a thousand,” said Colby. “Crazy times a thousand––you flew like Superman.”
“No, that was definitely more like Rambo,” said Tabby. “Rambo: First Blood.”
“Rambo: First Blood?” said Conroy. “That movie’s older than you.”
Tabby shrugged and said, “I had to find out what the word Rambo meant . . . besides, it’s a cult classic.”
“You right, tomboy,” said Colby, shaking his head in disbelief. “What girl watches Rambo?”
“Glooscap came right to our location,” said Conroy. “Didn’t seem surprised at all, as if he already knew we were there.”
Simon handed me a bloated skin, and said, “Water.”
I took a deep drink from the nipple.
“Where were you?” said Simon.
“The river,” I said, passing the skin back.
“The river we crossed to get here?”
“It’s full of dead fish,” I said.
“You mean momma’s milk?” said Colby. “We drank from it last night––tasted fine to me.”
“I saw the unicorn colt too. Dead and floating downriver like the fish,” I said. “Something’s polluting it. Everyone who’s traveled north to find the source hasn’t returned.”
“Are you serious?” said Tabby. “The unicorn.”
“That’s some badass juju,” said Colby. “Lord of the Rings shit right there.”
“The Sawnay have a friend who lives two days north from here. His name’s Ambrose,” I said.
“Ambrose? That’s an archaic name,” said Anna.
“They say he’s from Earth,” I continued. “He taught the Sawnay English and maps and other stuff. They even know about North American borders. They said he can help us find a way home.”
Colby leapt up, tossing the scrap of hide he’d been using to clean his shoes into the fire. “What are we waiting for then? Let’s get this show on the road.”
“How far is it?” said Simon calmly, like he was trying to offset Colby’s excitement.
“Did he say it’s for sure?” said Tabby.
“I don’t know,” I said, feeling foolish for not asking more questions.
Poowasan emerged from around a tepee along with Glixtan and Glooscap. They sat down across from Conroy.
“How would Tanner travel north with Glooscap?” said Conroy.
“Thunder horses,” said Poowasan.
Hearing the word “horses” caused everyone to perk up. At that point, I’d yet to see any sign of horse whatsoever. There’d been nothing on the trail. Nothing in the village, none of the things you see or hear––or smell for that matter––no saddles, no tack, no harnesses, no corrals, no hoof tracks, no dung. There’d been no hooves pounding the earth, no neighs or bays or whinnies. Absolutely no sign at all. If the Sawnay owned horses, they didn’t keep them in the village.
“What about the others?” said Conroy, his voice taking on that serious tone. “Can they go too?”
“The young men?” said Poowasan, looking at Simon and Colby.
“And my nieces,” said Conroy.
Poowasan’s brow furrowed and he gazed into the fire as if he was searching the flames for an answer, then he turned to the girls. “Two days’ rough journey,” he said. “One day through the forest on foot to reach the thunder horses, another day on horses to reach the heart of Black Swamp. North of there is where the Sawnay don’t travel.”
“Swamp, what kinda joker lives in a swamp?” said Colby. “And this guy’s supposed to tell us how we get home. Man, it sounds hokier and hokier by the minute.”
“They can all ride, taught them myself except for Tanner,” said Conroy.
“Are there saddles?” said Tabby.
“No saddles––we ride bareback,” said Glooscap.
“I’ve never ridden bareback before,” said Anna.
“Me neither,” said Simon.
“Ditto,” said Tabby.
Colby gave his head a shake and turned to me. “You be the only one, cowboy.”
I had, in fact, dozens of times at Whispering Cedars, and also a few times at Halton House. I could manage fine. The others, however, I wasn’t so sure about.
“I’m not nearly ready to travel,” said Conroy, raising his splinted leg a few inches off the ground. “Even with Glixtan’s treatment.”
“We can jerry-rig some type of stirrups,” I said. “Or maybe a saddle of some type.”
“Yeah, Mr. C.,” said Colby. “No way we leaving you behind.”
“I’ll only slow you down,” said Conroy.
“There’s no way we’re going unless you’re going,” said Tabby firmly.
“Uh-uh, we’re not leaving without you,” added Anna. “Me and Tabby will stay with you and wait for them to come back.” She said it with a resoluteness that I’d never heard from her before. Then she and Tabby simultaneously sidled up on either side of Conroy, like what he proposed was opening a rift between them and the only way to stop it from widening farther was for each of them to hold on to one of his arms.
Simon looked at me. Together we looked at Colby. No one spoke. We didn’t need to. We were all thinking exactly the same thing: Conroy was our leader, our father figure. He always made the right choices, always gave the best advice, and he’d been there for all of us whenever one of us needed someone to talk to, or someone to just listen to our teen-angst woes. Things like how we missed our family and friends, or how the world seemed to have been unfair toward us. Without him, traveling anywhere would be tough and downright frightening, especially in a world none of us knew anything about, a world in which danger was sure to confront us.
Sure, there’d been a few times that I’d grumbled and complained about my stay at Halton House, but that never lasted very long. My frustration subsided with the understanding that I’d made poor choices, put myself in bad situations. As a consequence, I’d hurt people, including myself. Conroy had helped me understand all of this, helping me gain more insight into how those traumatic events in my life––my father leaving, my mom and I moving around all the time, then her death––had impacted me and influenced my thoughts and feelings, my beliefs. Now, there he was, telling us that he wouldn’t travel north with us to speak to this Ambrose––the only person it seemed––who knew the way home, the way home to Earth. I suddenly realized that I’d zoned out for a minute and hadn’t been listening to the conversation going on around me.
“What if they don’t come back?” said Anna. “I mean, they might not be able to, right? They might have to go on without us.”
“No, they won’t be going anywhere without you––you’re going with them,” said Conroy. “Both you and Tabitha.”
Anna cast off her uncle’s arm impulsively as though it had just zapped her. She leaned back. She stared at him with a mixture of anger, confusion, and fear, like he’d betrayed her but she wasn’t quite sure how, like she could make him change his mind if she burned that look into him for long enough. I knew she wouldn’t. She, like the others, must’ve known it as well.
“Will we be able to return for him?” said Simon. “I mean, after we talk to Ambrose.”
Poowasan was silent for a moment too long before he said, “I am unsure.”
“If something, if anything happens,” said Conroy slowly. “If you need to hide, if you need to climb, if you need to move quickly––anything––I won’t be able to keep up. I could jeopardize everyone. I can’t afford that and neither can you.”
“Can’t afford that?” said Anna. She scoffed, stood up, and beelined into the heart of the village, tailed by one of the dogs. Everyone was silent as we watched her leaving.
Conroy picked up his crutches and went to go after her.
Tabby stood up and put a hand on his shoulder. “I’ll go,” she said. She trotted after her sister.
I thought I heard Conroy sigh, and that was the first time I could ever recall hearing him sigh. But then I’d experienced a lot of firsts over the last twenty-four hours. I got the feeling there were sure to be many more on that strange world none of us expected to be on yesterday––let alone knew existed––as we prepared for our basketball game against St. Michael’s. A twenty-four hours which seemed so distant that it might as well have been a year ago. Who could’ve known? Who could’ve had an inkling that we’d be anywhere but Halton House where last night we would’ve helped Barley Charlie birth Hena’s colt? Where, at that moment, we would’ve all been doing chores around the farm.
I gazed at the blue sky, panning from side to side, wondering where Earth was up there, if it was up there anywhere. Those three planets had dimmed slightly. A few stubborn stars still clung on, flickering like sparks, the way they do right before they blink out. I admired those ones, always had because they were tenacious, didn’t go easily. I wondered if any were our sun.
“Is the route dangerous?” said Conroy.
Poowasan’s head swayed back and forth a few times, as if he was giving serious thought to the question, and then he said, “The Sawnay have traveled this way for generations. We know the land and the creatures who call it home. But this world suffers these days, and there are unknowns.”
“Ambrose’s home is safe,” said Glooscap, who’d been silent up until that point.
“How’s a swamp safe? Never heard that before,” said Colby. “You got alligators, snakes, sinkholes, all sorts of crazy-ass bugs.” He counted them off on his fingers.
“Boys, watch over Anna and Tabby. They’re all right on horses, but they’ve spent most of their lives in the city. They aren’t wise to the bush.”
“We don’t know anything about this world,” said Simon. “Nothing about the animals. Don’t know what’s poisonous, what isn’t. We almost ended up as bird food yesterday.”
“Got to be crazy-ass jumbo rats, too, gnaw your eyes right out of your head,” said Colby, still going off.
“That may be, but the Sawnay know it and you three are bright and world-smart,” said Conroy. “Follow their lead. Keep your eyes open, trust your gut. Find us a way home.”
“They leave before the day is fully born,” said Poowasan with that same finality from the river. He said a few rapid words in Sawnay to Glooscap, who got to his feet and headed into the heart of the village in the direction the girls had gone. That was it. What minutes ago had seemed like a trip still days away, had materialized––almost too quickly.
Glooscap moved with purpose, his head high and shoulders back. There was a driving force in him that wanted all this to happen, like the cowboys or bull-riders I’d known: determined, focused, a belief in their ability, almost like they’d already accomplished what it was they were setting out to do. I admired that. And I gained a newfound respect for Glooscap right then and there.
“What if Ambrose can’t help?” I said.
“I have asked Ambrose to help,” said Poowasan. “He is a good friend of the Sawnay.”
“What if we can’t return? I mean . . . what if we have to make a choice?” I said, regretting it even before the words spilled from my mouth.
“Hang on, hang on,” said Colby, crossing his arms over his chest. “Ain’t any phones around here, man. How you go and tell this Ambrose to help us return?”
Poowasan smiled kindly as a parent would to a naive child, then he overlapped his wrists and fluttered his hands into the sky, and said, “A messenger.”
Conroy leaned in closely to me. “You don’t hesitate a second. The first chance you get to go home, you take it. I’ll follow as soon as I can.”
“We’re not going without you,” I said.
“Listen to me, Tanner,” he said. “I’m responsible for all of you. You go the first chance you get. You boys and Anna and Tabby.”
I didn’t like the thought of being the one responsible for that decision. But what could I say that would change Conroy’s mind, something that might persuade him that he was wrong this time, that we should all stick together, leave together? Nothing came to me, which left me wondering if it was because I just couldn’t think of anything or if deep down I knew Conroy was right. We should go back the first chance we get. We should leave him behind because we might not get another chance. So I nodded, and he nodded in return.