Free People of Babel (Ark Chronicles 3) by Vaughn Heppner

boys. But she noticed them more this year. Minos often took a harp with him to the fields, plucking strings when he should have been watching for lions or wolves.
    Hilda turned a corner and halted as her stomach knotted . Father drove through the village gate. Luckily, his head was turned. So she backed up and ducked out of sight, racing for home. In her room, she ripped off the gown and stuffed the necklace into her strongbox. Putting on her knee-length dress and lacing on heavy-soled sandals, she went into the main room and began dusting furniture.
    Just as her breathing evened , the door opened. Father clumped in, with his peg leg knocking on the floorboards.
    “ Hilda.”
    She looked up, her face filled with innocence.
    He didn’t glare or frown or glower, but his eyes seemed to bore into her soul.
    She hung her head as her cheeks burned.
    “Did you just disobey me?”
    “ Yes, Father.”
    He sighed, clump-clump-clumping until he sat in his chair.
    “I’m sorry,” she said, still looking down.
    “ Now you are, because I caught you.” He sighed, putting his heavy hands on the table. “I planned to let you drive for me next week when I left for Shem’s Settlement.”
    Her head whipped up and she to burst into tears. She loved Ruth, Shem’s wife, who reminded her so much of Great Grandmother Rahab.
    “ As punishment, you’ll have to stay behind,” he said.
    Tears welled in her eyes . Hilda hung her head again, nodding, before dashing into her room to cry.
     

20.
     
    The week passed. Early in the morning, Father left with the Scouts while Hilda remained behind. She swept the house, debated wearing the necklace now that her father was gone, but decided she didn’t want to turn into a rebellious child.
    A little before noon , she went outside carrying several javelins. She headed to the practice field. Once outside the village, she glanced about. Patches of wet snow clung here and there, while greenery sprouted everywhere, and the sound of trickling water seemed universal. From the mossy palisade spread slushy wagon, cart and chariot tracks. In the direction she headed rose a forest belt, the pine branches swaying in the breeze. She felt eyes on her, but saw no one. Father had taught her to trust her instincts so she kept turning, searching, until a crow cawed.
    She laughed and soon hiked over a flower-carpeted rise and entered a shallow , though rather wide, depression, with many soggy spots. Hay-backed targets stood in a row. There, she target-practiced, hurling javelins until sweat lathered her face.
    “ Hilda!”
    Hilda whirled around . Stumbling toward her from the forest ran a girl two years older than she was, who also happened to be her worst tormenter.
    With a javelin in hand , Hilda waited.
    Breathless, hair-disheveled , Ariel clutched Hilda’s arm as tears trickled down her cheeks. “Oh, Hilda, help me. Help me.”
    “ What is it?” Hilda asked.
    “ A wolf has torn Minos. He’s at the rock in the glade. He’s bleeding. Quick, run to him. Watch over him with your javelin while I get help.” Without another word, Ariel stumbled for the village.
    Hilda gulped as fear wormed into her belly . A wolf had torn Minos. What might the wolf do to her? But she gripped the javelin and sprinted toward the forest.
    In time , she came panting to the rock in the glade. The lichen-covered boulder stood taller than a man, and it was surrounded by forest. A spring seeped with water beside it and the boulder threw shadows on the tall, waving grass behind.
    “ Minos!” she called.
    Silence . Hilda glanced around. Just like before, eyes seemed to watch her. Goosebumps rose on her arms. They were evil eyes, malicious, wishing her harm. They studied her, gauging, waiting.
    “ Minos?” Hilda called in a quieter voice.
    She approached the rock as she kept her javelin cocked over her shoulder . If a wolf waited and tried to pounce…
    “ Hilda, over here,” came a hoarse whisper.
    Her heart thudded as she crept