Free Darkthaw by Kate A. Boorman

for?” Rebecca asks. “A new start?”
    â€œSomething like that.”
    â€œWell, that sounds mighty good,” Charlie says. “We could use one, too.”
    The sun shines bright on their hollow faces, making them squint. Like they’re looking into daylight for the very first time.
    â€œGoing to catch up with Kane,” I mumble. I leave them as quick as my foot will allow. My skin doesn’t stop prickling for a good long while.
    By evening we come upon a sheltered spot in the forest and make camp. Everyone is tired. It’s rockier terrain here, and the going was rough. We’ve skirted boulders and slipped down shale-laden inclines. Henderson described the land changing like this; I hope it means we’re getting close to the crossing.
    Nishwa caught two rabbits in the afternoon, but they’renot enough for the twelve of us, so once the tents are up, Kane, Isi, and Nishwa try hunting again. Frère Andre heads out on his usual patrol.
    â€œCan I come?” Daniel asks him. The boys are at loose ends without Isi’s attention. Nico pouts by the horses, brushing them in a halfhearted way.
    Andre shakes his head no but ruffles Daniel’s hair kindly.
    A splinter of ice pangs in my heart as I watch his shrivelled form stomp away from us, off through the trees.
La Prise
was hard this year, and he’s getting up there in his years. His daughter’s words ring in my head: “
Go see the world, Papa
.”
    I breathe deep against the icy feeling and set to my chores for dinner. As I measure out the bulb flour into a wooden bowl to mix for bannock, my thoughts fly back to Rebecca and Charlie.
    When we left their tattered camp, Charlie said he was sorry for the things his pa did. I want to believe that. They want a new start. And I want this new world to help us leave that dark past forever. So why is that ice creeping back into my chest?
    Matisa’s voice breaks my thoughts: “Where are the little boys?”
    I look up from mixing the bannock. She’s been skinning the rabbits and her hands are stained pink with blood.
    I glance around. It’s quiet inside the tents.
    Sister Violet is hanging the washing on a thin line of cord that extends between the trees.
    â€œDon’t know for sure.”
    â€œDid they go with Isi?”
    â€œNo.”
    Matisa looks off into the trees.
    â€œProbably just gone wandering,” I mutter, casting a side glance at Sister Violet. “I’ll get after them.”
    I leave the center of camp casual so as not to attract her attention—don’t need her getting riled—and head toward the far side of the grove.
    It’s this moment I notice Charlie’s tent is silent and none of his family are milling about. They aren’t given chores; Frère Andre thought it best we keep our goings-on separate from them, treat them as guests, not part of us, and everyone agreed: nobody wants them to get the notion we’re taking them any farther than the river crossing. But they’re usually about, getting underfoot somewhere.
    I drop my bowl and stirring stick as I approach the tent.
    Rebecca’s lying down inside. She raises her head when I look in.
    â€œWhere’s Charlie?” I ask.
    â€œHe wanted to show the little boys something in the woods.”
    My heart stops. “Which way did they set off?”
    She stares at me.
    â€œRebecca! Which way?”
    â€œOff past those bunches of spruce, I think. Em, what’s—”
    I spin on my heel, skirt the tent, and break for the woods. I don’t rightly know why, but the thought of Charlie alone with Nico and Daniel puts a sick feeling in my gut. The sick turns to a panicked fluttering in my chest when I don’t find them beyond the row of spruces. Where could they be? What could he possibly need to show them?
    I push farther into the woods, not caring when the branches pull and slap at me, tear at the skin on my arms.