What’s that sound? The slightest rustle came from near the hut. He turned slowly and then remained still. A shadow moved. It was the older, ugly girl who had held him so the woman could beat him. She moved sluggishly to the side of the hut and squatted.
In the chill of the night air, he listened to her grunt. The insects buzzed and chirped, and a bat flew close enough to sound like a giant bee. She finally stood and moved back to the door. Her head turned as she reached the hut, and her eyes found the empty drying racks.
She paused, looking at them in the darkness. She tried to puzzle why the two hides were missing. Her head turned the other way, looking away from him, so he carefully took a single step back into deeper shadows. She stood still, examining the drying racks when he took another step back. Then she went to the drying racks and examined the cut strings with sleep dulled eyes. He took two more careful steps away. Her head snapped erect.
“Hey! Wake up! Everybody get out here!” She screeched loud enough for those in the next village to hear. “Wake up! Get out here!”
Seth now hid in the deep shadows under a tree and looked for a fast way out. A path behind led into the woods, not in the right direction, but he didn’t care. Crouching and moving carefully, he eased ten steps down the path.
“What is it?” one of the boys shouted.
Another opened the door. It was Modoc.
The girl still screamed and shouted for the others to wake. “Get out here. We have a problem.” Then she started a quick inventory as they poured from the hut, one at a time wiping the sleep from their eyes. They howled as they discovered all the missing items.
Modoc screamed, “Where’s my bow?”
“They took our skins,” one of the girls moaned as if they had no others.
“My best flints are gone, too. Get a torch,” Grigori growled as if they were fashioned with skill.
The partial moon provided enough light to follow the path. Seth slipped slowly down it to where it turned. After the turn, the sparse undergrowth provided enough cover for him but the opening allowed faster movement. He saw the vague outline of the way ahead, but hopefully not well enough for them to see his tracks and follow. By morning, when they could see the tracks, he needed to be far away.
The stiff hides were awkward to carry, especially with the food and pieces of flint folded inside. He felt the contents shuffle and shift as he ran, but couldn’t take the time to secure them. The bow and spear were so awkward to manage that he almost tossed them aside. Although he heard angry voices behind, he heard no pursuit. They didn’t know who, or how many had been in their camp. Chasing unknown people in darkness is a good way to die.
Their hesitation gave him time to run a few more steps. Another path crossed the one he traveled. It traveled closer to where he had hidden the canoe, and he turned so sharply he almost lost his balance. The new trail was wider and twisted less. Fewer trees spread branches above, and he could see much better. That felt good until he realized that those sure to be following him soon could also run faster on it.
He accidentally dropped one of the hides and went back to grab it. The contents had spilled, but knowing the value of flint, he took a few precious moments to shift what he carried so he wouldn’t drop more. Then he ran again, hearing the salt water waves breaking off to his left, so the small river remained directly ahead.
He found the river and followed the bank downstream until he came to where he’d pulled the canoe onto the bank. The skid mark where he’d drug it was clear in the soft mud. But the boat was gone. He pulled to a stop, wildly spinning around searching for the canoe.
The grass and shrubs he’d used to hide it were there. He knelt and felt the ground. There were two sets of skid marks. He’d put one there when he hid the canoe. The second was not his.
He dropped his armload of supplies and ran to where the small branches that had hidden the canoe littered the ground and followed the marks in the soft ground. The second drag mark showed where the boat was pulled back into the water. He found the water still seeping into the track near the water’s edge. Someone had stolen the canoe only moments ago.
Seth left his treasures where he’d dropped them. Then, thought better of it. He ran back and grabbed the bow and two of the arrows, leaving the rest of his supplies lying in the mud. After returning with the canoe, he would gather it all and make his escape. But first, he needed to regain possession of his canoe.
CHAPTER TWO
Seth sprinted alongside the bank of the river where there was less underbrush to slow him. The thief hadn’t taken the canoe upriver, or Seth would have seen him when he crossed it. Downriver would take the canoe out into the salt water where the thief could paddle his way to deep water and escape. Seth’s lungs already protested, but he continued running. Leaping over a bush, he spotted a darker smudge floating on the surface of the water.
Instantly, Seth turned away from the river bank, and when enough shrubbery concealed him from the canoe, he raced ahead, seeing it flash by briefly through spaces in the trees. The pain in his chest from running hard hurt no longer, or if it did, he ignored it in the excitement. Just before the canoe reached the salt water, he reached the edge of the river and crouched behind tall shrubs.
The canoe floated into sight. He could plainly see a single occupant. When it was almost to him, Seth leaped out from concealment, splashed three steps in knee-deep water to stand in front of the canoe, blocking its progress with his legs. His bow was already pulled, the arrow aimed at the chest of the paddler. Seth waited.
He had acted so fast the person in the canoe didn’t pause before another stroke When he did, he stared at the sharp flint point on Seth’s arrow. The current drifted the canoe ahead until it bumped against Seth’s knees. The passenger hadn’t moved, probably thinking he was soon to be dead. Stealing a canoe and getting caught was a death sentence in any village or community.
“Get out of my canoe. Now.”
The figure placed a leg over the side and slowly climbed out until he was standing in the water. It was a man, smaller than himself, his back hunched. He waited as if sizing Seth up before speaking.
In the distance and growing in intensity, were people shouting and crashing through the forest, following Seth’s trail. The flicker of at least two torches shone through the trees and underbrush. They were following his tracks by torchlight instead of waiting for sunup.
The Canoe Thief said quickly, “Son, you have a choice to make. We can stand here and wait for your friends to arrive.” He motioned with a flick of an arm to the torches which were drawing closer with every breath. “In which case, the two of us will probably die tonight. Or, you can take the canoe and paddle off, leaving me to face them. We both know they’ll kill me because they’ll think I helped you. Or a third choice.”
“Which is?”
“We both get in the canoe and escape. Then we decide what to do. I have to admit I prefer the third choice.”
Seth watched Madoc splash across the river upstream like a man doing a crazy water-dance, a war ax waving above his head. His whoop of joy said he’d found the items Seth had dropped. Madoc must have also found the footprints Seth had left as he chased after the canoe. His head twisted in Seth’s direction and another war-cry sounded as he crashed through the underbrush running in their direction.
The combined humor and anxiety contained in the canoe thief’s last statement about preferring the third choice, persuaded Seth. He said, “Get in, fast. I’ll push us off.”