Free Seeker by William Nicholson Page B

been said. Even though they had their arms tight around each other, there opened up a gap between them. For Morning Star, this was the beginning of what she thought of as her real life. For her father, it was an ending.
    So they separated. Her father reached into his pocket and took out a little roll of black cloth tied up with string.
    "There's for you," he said.
    She untied it and found inside a braid of pure white lamb's wool. She put it to her face and felt its softness and smelled its smell.
    "A tickle of home," he said. "In case you forget."
    "I won't forget."
    She went outside. There was the book factor, his pack on his back, the strap over his brow. He now tipped himself forward and had no option but to set off. Barban strode along by his side. Morning Star followed.
    She looked back once and saw her father still standing in the doorway, solid and silent as ever, watching her, with Amik by his side. She raised her hand to wave, but he did not wave back. He stood there, glowing rose red with his love for her, and all around the rim of his aura was the tinge of deep violet, because his heart was breaking; but there was nothing she could do. So she lowered her hand and walked on.

    On the edge of the village, where the pathway forked, the book factor bade them farewell and turned north. Morning Star and her escort kept to the track that ran due west.
    As they went along, they heard the bleating of goats; and there on the steep hillside above was Filka, leading his flock down the mountain. He had a bag over one shoulder, and poking out of the bag was the furry white head of the puppy. He increased his pace when he saw Morning Star, so that he would reach the track before she passed by.
    At first Morning Star pretended she hadn't noticed him, because she didn't want to give him the satisfaction of knowing how much he distressed her. But he leered at her as she came closer, and put one hand on the puppy's head, as if to say, "No, you can't have him back." Then, getting no reaction, he held the puppy's head in his hand and turned it from side to side, so that Lamb too seemed to be saying to her, "No, no, no."
    Morning Star felt herself tremble with the intensity of the anger rising within her. She gave a low whistle in the direction of the village. Then she walked directly up to Filka, taking care to make no threatening gestures, and spoke to him in a humble and pleading voice.
    "You will be kind to him, won't you?" she said.
    "So long as others is kind to me," said Filka, grinning.
    Behind her she heard the patter of a dog running from the village. She glanced to her right and saw Barban waiting.
    "Oh, I'll be kind to you," she said.
    All at once she stumbled, fell against Filka, and screamed out, as if he had struck her.
    "Don't hurt me!" she cried. "Don't hurt me!"
    Barban acted with gratifying force and speed. He seized the goatboy and jerked him high in the air.
    "You want trouble?"
    "No—no—no!" stuttered the terrified Filka.
    "You touch her, I snap you in two!"
    He threw him back down onto the ground. The goatboy fell with a thud and lay there, whimpering. Morning Star pulled his bag free and lifted the puppy out, just as Amik came bounding up to her side.
    "Go, little Lamb!"
    She pushed the puppy at Amik.
    "Home, Amik! Home!"
    Obediently the sheepdog turned and headed back to the village. The little puppy trotted bleating after her.
    "Home, Lamb! Home!"
    Morning Star didn't take her eyes off the puppy until he was safe back in the village. It wasn't far. For a flicker of a moment, she thought she might change her mind and follow Lamb home. Her father would never think the worse of her for it; he would just be happy to have her back. Those few simple houses, straggling along the hill stream beneath the mountains, were the only world she knew. But there was Barban, standing over the goatboy, scowling and prodding at him with the toe of one boot.
    "Do I let him go?"
    "Yes. Let him go."
    The village was the past, as