Three hefty men dressed in jeans and plaid shirts stomped out of the woods, their hard boots crushing and snapping all growth in their path. Long hunting rifles by their side, they peered all around them as they headed for the trucks.
“Can’t get very far like this,” said the heaviest of the three, banging one of Tom’s flat tires with the butt of his rifle.
The other two hunters grunted in agreement and leaned back on the side of Tom’s pickup. They glanced back towards the woods, scanning the nearby bushes.
Tala’s heart pounded as she crouched close to Dason, breathing slow and shallow; she focused on any sound coming from the three men. Dason’s fingers clawed deep in her arm and she prayed he wouldn’t burst out crying. They had to get away somehow without being seen or heard. These men were out to get Tom; any slight movement could attract their attention. She shuddered at the thundering sound of a rifle smacking the side of Tom’s pickup once more.
“Bet you he sneaked out of the woods and he’s walking back down to the village,” one of them said, kicking the side of the pickup. “He’ll be squealing to the cops in no time.”
“Couldn’t have gotten very far,” said another deeper voice. “We took a shot at him less than thirty minutes ago.”
“I’ve had it,” said the heaviest one. “We haven’t slept all night watching out for this guy. We need to get these coolers to our client before our catch goes bad. I say one of us stays here in case he’s still in the woods. The other two go back and watch for him on the road.”
There was a long pause before anyone spoke.
“I sure don’t want to be caught with what’s in the truck,” said one of them. “We don’t want that guy blabbing to the cops either. I’m the better shooter, so I’ll stay. You guys come back for me after you’ve delivered our catch. Don’t bring the truck; we don’t want it to be seen here too often. I’ll be putting out more traps while I hunt this guy out. Meet me with the boat on the other side of the mountain. I’ll stick a white flag on the shore. That means I’ve got things under control and you can come up and get me.”
“No more bullets,” said another hunter. “Don’t need the cops sniffing around. Tie him up good and we’ll show him how to dive.”
Tala held her breath and kept a close watch as the men turned and stomped towards their black truck. With a quick nod, she motioned Dason to follow her. They just had a split second to dash to the woods without being seen. She grabbed Dason’s hand and bolted, her heart hammering through her chest. She dove for cover behind the first evergreen tree, tugging Dason down beside her. Her rapid breathing kept pace with the speed of her heartbeats. What were they supposed to do now? Where should they run? What if that hunter discovered their bikes?
One thing for sure, these men were wrong about Tom: there’s no way he’d go back home along that road knowing they’d be driving down to look for him. The cycle path that followed the river was in plain view from the road. The opposite side of the paved road was much too mountainous for anyone to hike on. She had no doubt he was still in the woods, but where?
They lay flat on the ground behind the tree watching the men through the tall grass. Could Tom be hiding out until the hunters gave up and left? If he heard their truck drive off, would he know they had left a hunter behind? Tala pulled Dason closer to her; her heart drummed into the soft ground beneath her. Please. She pleaded to the spirits of the earth and the woods. Please help me find my father.
The truck door slammed and they leaped up.
“Run like a deer,” she said, in the calmest voice she could manage. The best way for her not to get lost in these woods was to head towards the mountain. They sprang forward, darting around ancient spruce trees, bounding over fallen branches of birches and dead maple, and thrashing through prickly bushes of clinging vines. The mountain lead back to the river, and across the river was the Reserve, the only place that seemed safe to her right now. She had no idea how they would get across, but she knew they couldn’t stay here. She pictured that hunter kicking the bikes in a fit of rage and following their tracks, his rifle ready to shoot at anything that moved. She glanced back at Dason and saw he was right at her heels, rivulets of tears pouring down his dust covered face. She turned away before he had a chance to see her own flow of tears.
They were a long while running before Dason cried out that his legs were killing him. Before them stood a large clearing fenced in by tall pine trees interspersed with huge sections of flat rock. Thick clusters of goldenrod and clumps of tall grass bursting with seedpods surrounded the rock formations.
Tala dropped her knapsack on the nearest rock and plonked herself down.
“Culloo country,” she said, leaning her head back to look up at the blue tip of the mountain that poked through the top of the trees. This was their preferred place to picnic when Tom brought them out on the trails. He often told them his favourite story of the giant black bird that nested on top of the mountain. Thinking of the Culloo brought her closer to Tom, as if he sat right there on the rock beside them.
Dason snuggled up to her. “I can’t see it. Do you think it’s hiding somewhere waiting to dive down and snatch us up?” he said, scanning the sky.
Even though her stomach still felt raw and queasy, she managed a smile.
“Not if we stay close to the trees,” she said. “It needs a big open space or else the wings get tangled in the branches.”
She wet her thumb in her mouth and rubbed the streaks of dirt his tears had left on his cheeks.
Dason sat up straight and scrunched his nose. “What’s that yucky smell?”
A soft breeze ruffled the tall grass and Tala caught a whiff of rotting meat. It came from somewhere in the middle of the field. Dason got up to investigate and she followed. They discovered the source of the stench behind a thick bunch of tall goldenrod not far from where they had been sitting.
“Yuck,” Dason stepped back pinching his nose.
About a dozen large fish lay in a slimy heap on the ground, hungry black flies buzzing around their gaping eyes and mouth.
“How did that get here?” he said, his hand clutching his stomach.
Tala noticed the soil around the pile of fish had been disturbed and raked flat.
“Stay away from that, there might be a bear trap hidden under there,” she said. “Let’s get out of here. A hungry bear can smell this from a long way off.”
They turned and hurried back to where they had been sitting. When Tala bent down to pick up her knapsack, she noticed a quick movement behind the tall grass beside them. She turned in time to see a chunky shadow disappear behind a big boulder.
“What the heck was that?” Dason said.
“You saw it too?” she said with a shrug. “Could be a wild turkey.”
She glanced back at the boulder and stood staring at it for a few moments. “Time to move on.”
“Where to now?” he said. “My feet hurt.”
It dawned on her how little he had complained since they’d left earlier this afternoon. She had to admit he’d been pretty good for a pesky kid, yet she knew they’d have to stop to rest soon. She had wanted so much to find Tom that she hadn’t focused on a plan yet. The thought of that hunter sneaking behind them with his big rifle sent shivers up and down her shoulders and arms, and the idea that a large bear might be sniffing its way towards the pile of dead fish made her quicken her pace.
“We’ll stop when we’re far away enough from this horrible smell,” she said, as they continued through the section of the field bordering the woods. They were almost at the end of it when they came across a trail of flattened grass in front of a tall wide boulder. Tala slowed down and glanced around her. If the wind were strong enough to flatten grass like that, then the whole field would be flattened, not just a patch of it. Something or someone had to be heavy enough to stamp the grass down so hard it couldn’t bounce back up again.
There was no turning back. The trail behind the boulder led straight to where they needed to go through the woods before reaching the mountain. They couldn’t risk getting lost by leaving the trail. Soon they’d have to find a safe place to camp in case they didn’t find Tom before dark. She paused a moment, reached back into the side pocket of her knapsack, and clutching her tiny birch canoe, closed her eyes.
“Spirit of the Canoe, please give me strength to walk by this boulder,” she said, her voice shaky. She then took a deep breath and stepped forward.