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  “What’s with the knapsack?” she said, her lips almost motionless. “I thought we were going shopping for school stuff this afternoon?”

  “Can’t,” Tala said. “I don’t have time to explain right now. I’m biking up to the woods to see Tom.”

  “That’s crazy,” Laura said. “It’ll take you three hours. Does Tom know about this?”

  “Don’ worry,” Tala said. “We’ll stop to rest. I’ll call you as soon as I get back. Turn around and pretend nobody answered.”

  Her heart sank as she watched her friend shuffle towards the road. They’d been planning this shopping trip for a while. Three weeks left until they both started at Craigville High, their first time going to the same school together, the first time ever taking the same school bus. Tala’s grade school was on the Reserve near Nannie’s, while Laura went to the one in their neighbourhood. Apart from summer break, weekends were the only times they hung out together. They’d be able to see each other everyday in high school.

  “Come on Tala,” Dason had his arms crossed waiting by the backdoor.

  She snapped the window shut and pulled the blinds closed. Tom had bought them both new mountain bikes at the beginning of summer, promising to go on lots of cycling trips with them, though it didn’t happen like he planned. Summer was a busy season for him so she didn’t bug him about it like Dason did. When he wasn’t out on the trails with his clients, he’d sometimes go there by himself just to think. The woods, he said, is where I do a bit of clean up in my head, get close to Anjij and connect with her spirit.

  Tom smiled more often when he came back from these outings; he goofed around and hung out with them. Sometimes they’d bake luski together; it never turned out as delicious as when Nannie made it, but it was fun sharing the hot bread. They huddled on the couch while he told them stories about the spirits that lived in the woods and mountains.

  “Slow down Dason,” she said. “You won’t last too long at this speed.”

  He always tried to ride way ahead of her to prove he was faster. She had to admit he was pretty good for a kid, but she’d been cycling long enough to know they had to take it easy at first and not burn off all their energy. They were on the cycle path that began at the road near the old Catholic church. It ran behind the town swerving down alongside the high rocky ledges that followed the Cascapedia River for about thirty kilometers, and ended a little ways before the thick woods started, where Tom always parked before going onto the trails.

  She kept her eyes open for Tom’s blue pickup on the paved road that ran parallel to the cycle path. If she spotted him driving back towards home, they’d turn around right away. Going on a three hour bike ride with a pesky eight-year old wasn’t her idea of a fun afternoon, but that raw empty feeling in her stomach made her pedal faster. The last time she’d felt this scared and alone was when Nannie told them about Anjij’s accident.

  A black crow watching them from the side of the cycle path flew up squawking as they rode by. It circled high above them and she leaned her head back to look up.

  “Spirit of the Crow,” she said aloud. “Please help Tom come home safe.”

  “Where are you two going?” said a familiar voice.

  Tala jerked her head back down and stared in front of her. Susan was smiling at them with her big horse teeth; she always had red or pink streaks on her two front teeth from her lipstick. Tala had been too busy watching the road for Tom’s pickup to notice anyone approaching on the cycle path, and Dason cycling in front had blocked her view. Susan stopped her bike sideways across the path, forcing them to push down hard on their brakes.

  “Just a picnic,” Tala said, before Dason decided to say anything.

  “Aren’t you a little too far from home for that? You’re way pass the picnic area,” Susan said, taking a long gulp from her red water bottle.

  “We like to go down closer to the river,” Tala said, staring at Susan’s bottle and imagining her drinking vampire’s blood. “Away from all the nosey people around here.”

  Her words had slipped out and she wished she hadn’t said anything at all. She could tell Susan was angry by the way her eyes bulged out. That’s when spit usually flew out of her mouth when she spoke to you. Dason glanced back in Tala’s direction, his eyes tense, waiting for her cue. They both knew being impolite with Susan was risky business; there was always a price to pay, one more thing for her to squeal to Officer Scott about.

  Susan screwed the cap back on her bottle and pushed it back into her fanny pack. She stared at Tala without saying a word. Tala could hear the crows cawing from the top of the trees on the opposite side of the road. She pictured them swooping down on Susan, digging their claws into her, and dumping her smack into the middle of the river.

  “Listen Tala,” Susan said. “I know you think it’s none of my business, but there’s a good Samaritan law that says I’m obliged to make a report if I know a child is left without proper care.”

  “Tom takes good care of us,” Tala said. “And I’m almost thirteen.”

  Susan stood gazing at Dason a moment, sighed and turned back to Tala, “You’re both welcome to stay with me till he comes back. Josh loves it when you guys come over.”

  “Tom’s at home sleeping,” Tala said. “We’re going on a picnic not to disturb him.”

  “Have a nice picnic if that’s the case,” Susan said, taking a deep breath before pushing herself back up on her bike. “Don’t go too close to the river.”

  She rode past without looking at them.

  Tala signaled Dason to get going. They’d have to move faster now that Susan was on to them. She looked up in time to see a blue pickup driving on the road back towards the village. Her heart sank as it whizzed by them. It was too clean and shiny to be Tom’s; his truck was full of dents and scratches from driving out on the trails.

  CHAPTER THREE

  They rode in silence past their favourite lookout where the cycle path came closest to the shore. Tala didn’t want to risk stopping. It was difficult to see the road from there; she’d have to stretch her neck to get a proper view or else miss Tom if he happened to drive by. The sky was a continuous grey and when the sun did decide to peek out, it stayed for a few minutes before disappearing again. This made it easier for them to cycle without having to stop too often to pull out the water bottles.

  Except for the metallic whir of their bicycle chain and the rubbery thump of their tires colliding with sharp stones and small branches, their silence remained undisturbed. Tala made no effort to talk and there was none of the usual teasing from Dason about all the boys she hung around with in the schoolyard.

  Away from school, her best friend was Laura; they shared everything and spent hours chatting and giggling on the phone together. Being the only girl on the soccer and basketball team, the boys at school treated Tala like one of them. Whenever Dason spotted her playing dodge ball with them at recess, he’d bug her about it when they got home. He just didn’t get it; the reason the boys even bothered with her was because she was pretty decent at soccer. When Dason got on her case like that, she wished she could transform him into a slimy toad that couldn’t croak.

  His scream startled her and she glanced up in time to see a huge yellow bumblebee spring up from his arm. He stood thrashing at a thick cloud of angry bees buzzing close to his head while trying to gripe onto his handlebars.

  “Drop your bike and run.” Tala said, letting go of hers in the middle of the cycle path and sprinting down towards the river. Dason raced alongside her, his face drained of all colour and his breath bursting in and out. She looked back over her shoulder and when she saw the swarm of bees fly off in another direction she stopped to examine his arm. A big red welt had already formed above his elbow.

  “Sit down under that tree. I’ll be right back.”

  She jogged into the open field, paused a few times to scan the ground, and came to a stop before a low patch of short grass. She kneeled down to break off two broad plantain leaves, stuffed them
into her mouth and chewed as she ran back to Dason. His eyes opened wide when he saw her pull the moist green blob out of her mouth and squash it onto his swollen bee bite.

  “Yuck.” he said, trying to tug his arm away. “What are you doing?”

  With a firm grip on the green poultice, she reached back to pull down her knapsack.

  “Stop fiddling while I strap this on,” she said. She fumbled in her bag for the first-aid tape, yanked it out and coiled it around his arm to secure the mashed-up leaves.

  “This will take the sting away,” she said, tucking a loose strand of hair back under his bandana. “Takes a bigger bee than that to scare a big shot like you, right kid?”

  “It works,” he said, jumping up. “It doesn’t hurt anymore.”

  “Nannie showed me,” she shrugged. “The swelling will go down in a while.”

  A car raced by behind them and she spun around to watch it disappear down the road. She’d forgotten all about checking for Tom’s pickup. Why didn’t she ask Dason to look out for it when she ran to get the plantain leaves? What if Tom drove by while she was busy taking care of Dason? They had no choice but to go ahead and at least check if his pickup was still parked beside the woods. A quick glance at her watch confirmed they should be already halfway there. They had made few stops along the way, just long enough to sip a mouthful of water and continue on.

  “I’m hungry,” Dason said, digging in his bag and pulling out a big orange.

  Her stomach was still in a knot, so she just plonked herself down beside him to relax a bit while he finished eating. From where they were sitting under the tall maple tree they were able to keep an eye on the road as well as watch the flocks of white gulls gliding over the Cascapedia River. She loved to hear them cry out to each other as they searched the blue water for fish.

  Across the river was Indian land where Nannie, Uncle Lou, some of her aunts and cousins still lived. Tala had stayed in Nannie’s old house with Tom and Anjij long before Dason was born. It was only after Anjij finished her nursing degree and found a job in the village next to the Reserve that they moved into their own house. Anjij insisted Tala go to school back on the Reserve to make sure she learned all about her great grandparents and how they lived long ago. As a little girl, Tala liked to sit cross-legged on the kitchen floor and recite the song she had learned that day in class. Anjij’s brown eyes glittered brighter than the North Star as she sang along and fixed supper.

  They hopped back on their bikes as soon as Dason swallowed his last bite of orange. They continued to ride in silence, their eyes concentrating on avoiding the broken branches they sometimes found blocking their way. Strong winds gusting from the river were hard on the trees here. Those weakened with age or disease would sometimes come crashing down onto the more sturdy surrounding trees, forming rickety wooden portals along the paths. Don’t touch them, Tom often warned them, they’ll tumble down and make compost out of you.

  The path sloped upwards leaving the river far below them behind a wide row of tall trees and bushes. Most cyclists never came this far, the cycle path coming to a complete stop in just a few kilometers, followed by the thick woods where Tom brought his clients. The paved road continued on cutting through the woods and around the mountains heading north.

  Tala spotted a pickup in the distance as they approached the end of the cycle path.

  “There he is,” she turned back to encourage Dason. He had started slowing down a few kilometers back. She had asked him a few times if he wanted to stop to rest, he’d only shake his head, race ahead of her, and fall behind again after a few short minutes. The end of the path was slow and tiring as they zigzagged around all the different shapes and sizes of rocks that jutted out from the ground.

  A big, new-model, black pickup was parked beside Tom’s smaller blue one. People planning to go into the woods always turned off the paved road here to park in the small open field. Tom would guide his clients to where they wanted to go and hike back to his truck. He always came back home the very same day, no matter what.

  They dropped the bikes and knapsacks at the end of the path and jaunted towards the trucks. Before she knew it, Dason had hopped into the box of the black pickup.

  “Get out of there.” Tala said.

  “Just looking.”

  “What if someone sees you?” she said glancing towards the woods.

  “Gross,” he said in a loud voice.

  She turned to see he had opened one of the four large coolers in the corner behind the driver’s side. He took a wide step backwards, stumbling over a jumble of shovels, axes and chains scattered on the metal floor, and hopped over the side.

  “What’s in there?” she said, leaning over the side of the truck’s box.

  “I think it’s something dead.”

  “Must be some kind of bait,” she said, staring at the big chunks of black fur floating in a red liquid. She reached in to snap the cooler shut.

  “I don’t get it. Hunting season hasn’t even started yet.”

  “Hey. Tom has a flat,” Dason said, darting towards his father’s pickup.

  Tala swung around in his direction. Her heart stopped; all four tires were flat to the ground. Someone didn’t want Tom driving anywhere. She glanced back at the shiny black pickup. Did it belong to Tom’s client, or to one of those poachers he always looked out for? Whoever drove that truck was still in the woods somewhere.

  Loud voices boomed from a little ways behind the trees. Tala gripped Dason’s arm and motioned him to be quiet. She charged towards her bike with Dason at her heels. She knew Tom had nothing to do with all that noise. Out of respect for the animals that never disturbed him while he visited their woods, he always made sure to talk in whispers when he was out there with his clients.

  They grabbed their bags and pushed the bikes behind a thick clump of tall burdock not far from Tom’s truck. Dason squatted beside her peering through the narrow spaces between the stems of the plants, his eyes wide as two full moons.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Three hefty men dressed in jeans and plaid shirts stomped out of the woods, their hard boots crushing and snapping all growth in their path. Long hunting rifles by their side, they peered all around them as they headed for the trucks.

  “Can’t get very far like this,” said the heaviest of the three, banging one of Tom’s flat tires with the butt of his rifle.

  The other two hunters grunted in agreement and leaned back on the side of Tom’s pickup. They glanced back towards the woods, scanning the nearby bushes.

  Tala’s heart pounded as she crouched close to Dason, breathing slow and shallow; she focused on any sound coming from the three men. Dason’s fingers clawed deep in her arm and she prayed he wouldn’t burst out crying. They had to get away somehow without being seen or heard. These men were out to get Tom; any slight movement could attract their attention. She shuddered at the thundering sound of a rifle smacking the side of Tom’s pickup once more.

  “Bet you he sneaked out of the woods and he’s walking back down to the village,” one of them said, kicking the side of the pickup. “He’ll be squealing to the cops in no time.”

  “Couldn’t have gotten very far,” said another deeper voice. “We took a shot at him less than thirty minutes ago.”

  “I’ve had it,” said the heaviest one. “We haven’t slept all night watching out for this guy. We need to get these coolers to our client before our catch goes bad. I say one of us stays here in case he’s still in the woods. The other two go back and watch for him on the road.”

  There was a long pause before anyone spoke.

  “I sure don’t want to be caught with what’s in the truck,” said one of them. “We don’t want that guy blabbing to the cops either. I’m the better shooter, so I’ll stay. You guys come back for me after you’ve delivered our catch. Don’t bring the truck; we don’t want it to be seen here too often. I’ll be putting out more traps while I hunt this guy out. Meet me with the boat on the other side of the mounta
in. I’ll stick a white flag on the shore. That means I’ve got things under control and you can come up and get me.”

  “No more bullets,” said another hunter. “Don’t need the cops sniffing around. Tie him up good and we’ll show him how to dive.”

  Tala held her breath and kept a close watch as the men turned and stomped towards their black truck. With a quick nod, she motioned Dason to follow her. They just had a split second to dash to the woods without being seen. She grabbed Dason’s hand and bolted, her heart hammering through her chest. She dove for cover behind the first evergreen tree, tugging Dason down beside her. Her rapid breathing kept pace with the speed of her heartbeats. What were they supposed to do now? Where should they run? What if that hunter discovered their bikes?

  One thing for sure, these men were wrong about Tom: there’s no way he’d go back home along that road knowing they’d be driving down to look for him. The cycle path that followed the river was in plain view from the road. The opposite side of the paved road was much too mountainous for anyone to hike on. She had no doubt he was still in the woods, but where?

  They lay flat on the ground behind the tree watching the men through the tall grass. Could Tom be hiding out until the hunters gave up and left? If he heard their truck drive off, would he know they had left a hunter behind? Tala pulled Dason closer to her; her heart drummed into the soft ground beneath her. Please. She pleaded to the spirits of the earth and the woods. Please help me find my father.

  The truck door slammed and they leaped up.

  “Run like a deer,” she said, in the calmest voice she could manage. The best way for her not to get lost in these woods was to head towards the mountain. They sprang forward, darting around ancient spruce trees, bounding over fallen branches of birches and dead maple, and thrashing through prickly bushes of clinging vines. The mountain lead back to the river, and across the river was the Reserve, the only place that seemed safe to her right now. She had no idea how they would get across, but she knew they couldn’t stay here. She pictured that hunter kicking the bikes in a fit of rage and following their tracks, his rifle ready to shoot at anything that moved. She glanced back at Dason and saw he was right at her heels, rivulets of tears pouring down his dust covered face. She turned away before he had a chance to see her own flow of tears.