THE CAMPFIRES died down. We were in darkness except for the patrolling soldiers whose torches lit first one corner of the campground and then another. Fawn and I were wide awake, watching for Sanatuwa’s signal. We waited so long I began to think that for this night he had given up the idea of an escape. In a way I was relieved, for I was afraid of what the soldiers would do if they caught us. Yet how I longed to see Mama and Papa. I must have drifted off to sleep because Fawn gave my arm a tug. “Hurry,” she whispered. We inched our way toward Sanatuwa and Menisikwe, who were already halfway into the woods. Menisikwe was carrying Megisi on her back.
Luckily the ground under us was damp, so the leaves did not rustle. When we were free of the clearing, Sanatuwa motioned us to follow him. A moment later, like moths in candle flame, we were caught in the glare of a rush torch. It was one of the soldiers, the soldier with the red beard. I saw Sanatuwa’s hand move toward the small axe he carried in his belt. Then a surprising thing happened. The soldier, instead of reaching for his rifle, said, “Why should you not walk as freely as I do?” He turned his back and headed toward the camp.
“Quickly,” Sanatuwa whispered. He seemed to know the path even in the dark. I could see nothing. I tripped over a log and fell. Then I took a wrong turn and bumped into a tree. Fawn took my hand and pulled me along with her.
It felt as though we had been running for hours when Menisikwe called something to Sanatuwa and he stopped. “We will rest here,” he said. “I forget Libby is not used to our traveling.” While we rested Menisikwe nursed Megisi. Watching them, I thought of my own brother or sister nestled in my mama’s arms, and tears slid down my cheeks.
At first I was too afraid to fall asleep, but my eyes soon closed. I was awakened by the sound of a woodpecker hammering on a nearby tree. It was such a friendly sound I thought I was at home in our cabin. I waited to hear Mama’s soft voice coaxing me out of bed. Instead I heard Sanatuwa say, “Come, we must find a better place before the sun is up. This morning when they discover we are gone they will send soldiers to look for us. If we get away, they know others will surely try.”
We left the path and made our way to the banks of a small stream. Gratefully we drank the cold water. It sparkled like jewels in the sun as it fell from our hands. Menisikwe mixed the water with cornmeal she had brought with her. We could not risk a fire to boil the porridge. I was so hungry I didn’t care that it tasted like grainy paste. With the gentle sound of the water and the grassy banks of the stream fragrant with mint, I was sorry to leave. It seemed such a safe place.
I thought we would try to cover as much ground as possible. Instead Sanatuwa led us away from the stream and into a sparse wood that was a tangle of tall grass and briers. With a stab of remorse I saw that the briers were wild blackberry. I thought of all the trouble I had caused by my stubborn willfulness and my lie about picking blackberries. “Fawn,” I said, “if it weren’t for me, your papa and mama wouldn’t have run away from the soldiers. They wouldn’t be in all this danger.”
Sanatuwa overheard me. “You are right to say that I led us away from the soldiers because it was my duty to return you to your father. It is true that otherwise I might have remained in the camp. But there is no need to hang your head for being the means of our freedom.”
I wasn’t sure, but I thought what Sanatuwa said was that he was glad they had run away. That made me feel better. Menisikwe, who had gone on ahead, had disappeared. Now she called to us. We couldn’t see her, but her voice sounded close by. Suddenly she stood up. She was only a few feet from us. She had hunched down in a place where the tall grass had been flattened into a wide circle. “Deer bed,” she said.
“We will stay here,” said Sanatuwa. “If we travel through the woods, the soldiers will overtake us with their horses. But they will spend no more than one day looking for us. If they don’t find us today, they will give up.”
As we hunched down into the nest of grass, we could look up at the tops of the trees swaying in the wind. A white-throated sparrow was singing. Yellow swallowtail butterflies hung from the clusters of goldenrod. Fawn asked if she and I could go over to the wild blackberry bushes to pick some berries. Sanatuwa said we might and Menisikwe gave us a basket.
We filled the basket and stuffed ourselves as well. We knew we had to be quiet, but it was hard not to laugh at how our mouths and hands were stained red from the juicy berries. The berries were delicious. The sun felt warm on our backs. We nearly forgot why we were there until the sound of horses sent us running. We dived into the circle. Two soldiers galloped by so close we could smell the sweat from their horses. Megisi began to whimper. Hastily Menisikwe put her hand over his mouth. In a moment the soldiers were gone. I was too frightened to say a word, but Sanatuwa said, “They have finished looking here. They will not come this way again.” He smiled with satisfaction.
As soon as it was dark we started off again. At first we traveled through the woods, keeping away from the trail. After a while Sanatuwa led us back to the trail, and the way became easier. We never rested for more than a moment or two. Early the next morning we slept for a few hours hidden among tall ferns in a little copse of trees. By afternoon I told Fawn that I was sure I could not go another step.
“Do you not know where we are?” Fawn asked. She was smiling. I looked around. We were in the pine forest, on the path that led to our cabin. A moment before, my feet had been too heavy to lift. Now I ran faster than I had ever run in my life.