Free Sound of the Heart by Genevieve Graham

leaves had forced any animals into hiding, but he sensed them there. Their familiar, almost forgotten presence was so comforting that tears filled his eyes and blurred his vision. For so long he had been in the company of men and only men. His surroundings had been cold and hard, hungry for his soul. Here, cutting paths through these strange woods, climbing around fallen trees and tumbled rocks, he breathed in life. The deeper they went into the trees, the stronger he felt.
    Aidan panted behind him, doggedly following his steps. Dougal slowed and eventually stopped in a small clearing sheltered and fenced by trees. He bent in half, wheezing in breaths and trying to slow his racing pulse. The rain had stopped, but water still pattered against wet, shiny leaves. He stood upright again and a drop landed on Dougal’s nose, making him smile. He sat on the ground and leaned against an ancient oak, groaning as his legs finally rested. He had been so thrilled to taste freedom he had barely felt the burning in his muscles as he’d run. Now everything hurt.
    Aidan sat nearby, curled into a ball at the point where a birch had split into three trunks. “I dinna think I’ve e’er been so tired,” he said quietly.
    Dougal watched him, saw the boy’s eyelids had almost closed, saw the droop of his chin toward his chest. “It’s been a long day, lad. Go to sleep.” He met the boy’s eyes. “Ye’ll be safe. I’ll keep watch.”
    “But you—”
    “I’ll sleep when ye’re done.”
    Aidan gave him one last, weary smile, then closed his eyes. He was sound asleep before Dougal could say anything more.
    Night closed in two hours later, and Aidan awoke, shivering.
    “Have a good sleep?”
    “N-n-n-no,” Aidan muttered, then moaned as he stretched out his legs.
    “Come here, lad. It’s too dark to find our way through the woods. We’ll have to sleep here. I’ve dug in these leaves an’ found a few not soaked through, but there’s no’ enough for a fire. We’ll use what we can for a blanket.”
    Not that they could chance lighting a fire even if there was enough dry tinder to raise a spark. Neither of them dared send a smoke signal to any curious Englishmen. So there was little they could do besides move continuously or stay close together, feeding the other what little warmth they had. Dougal gave up trying to stay awake after a while, and the two of them nodded off, leaning back to back, pressing their sides against the biggest tree they could find.
    It was the crows that woke them, distant but distinct, shattering the stillness with cries that sounded like screeching soldiers. Dougal and Aidan awoke at the same time, leaping to their feet so leaves showered off them.
    “C-C-C-Christ,” Dougal stuttered, shuddering with the cold.
    Aidan hugged himself, then clicked his tongue with annoyance. “’Tis only c-c-corbies.”
    “Aye, well, it’s good they woke us. The sun’s up an’ the fort will ken we’ve gone. Now that the storm’s gone, they’ll come after us. We’ve no time to waste.”
    “And if we run, we’ll warm up,” Aidan grumbled.
    As if Dougal’s mood had inspired it, the sun shone all day, drying their clothes and raising their spirits. They stuck to lesser used paths for miles, staying close to the line of the Thames, but far enough that they avoided any possible meetings. If they followed the Thames, Dougal realised, they’d eventually have to reach London. At least from there he’d have some idea of where they were. They ran without stopping as often as they could, needing to put distance between themselves and Tilbury. Dougal was relieved to learn Joseph had been wrong. Aidan wasn’t slow at all.
    It took two days before the stench of London reached them. They smelled the city before they saw it, shadowed by a low black fug of coal smoke. It hung over the city like a sweaty cloud, sullenly independent of the rest of the sky. Sewage was the least of the odours. Beneath that the heavier,