Until the Beginning
Page 33
“Where?” I ask.
“We’re leaving the fire and setting up camp further on,” she says.
“I thought you said Whit wouldn’t send guards after us.”
“No, but someone could have followed him,” she says. “Or, if they suspect he met with me, they could easily track his footprints back here. It would be foolish for us to stay.”
In five minutes we have the tent rolled up and most of the supplies packed into Juneau’s backpack. I follow her as she does her silent walk through the pitch-dark woods, trying to place my feet where she has stepped. What seems like an hour later we finally stop, and she looks around.
We’re in a little clearing where the lack of tree cover allows the moonlight to illuminate the ground. “Here’s good,” she says. “We can see enough to set up camp.”
We pitch the tent in silence, and I can tell that Juneau’s not just being quiet to avoid detection. She’s mulling over every word that came out of Whit’s mouth. Going over it again and again, trying to weed out the lies from the truth.
I’m focusing on hammering tent pins into the ground when I hear a flutter of wings and a loud squawk. I look up to see a large black bird, the size of a cat, swoop down from the darkness and land on the ground nearby.
“Poe!” Juneau yells. I can tell she’s using every ounce of restraint she possesses not to throw herself on the raven. Instead, she squats and holds out her hand toward him. He waddles over and lets her pet him and coo over him and I can’t help but roll my eyes. But when she looks over at me, her eyes shining with excitement, I have to admit I’m glad to see the bird, too.
“So after selling us out to Whit back in Utah, you decide to fly back and grace us with your birdy presence?” I call to him.
Poe looks at me and cocks his head to one side, as if he were actually listening. “Hey, look!” I say. “The bird finally acknowledges my presence.”
“Maybe he missed you, too,” Juneau jokes, and scoops Poe into her lap.
“Look at this fancy harness Tallie made you,” she says, and opens a little leather pouch attached to his back. She pulls a paper from inside.
“Can you hand me a flashlight?” she asks. I take one from the bag, crouch down behind her, and shine it on the paper as she unfolds it. She begins reading the large, loopy writing out loud as I follow along, peering over her shoulder.
Got your message, borrowed Mikey’s truck, and left immediately. I had just checked into a hotel in Roswell when Poe started acting all crazy like he wanted to get out. I figure you called him and am letting him go. I’m at the Days Inn, just up the road from the UFO Museum. If you’re near, come find me. If not, send a note by return raven. You and Mr. Take-You-Far better be careful. Beauregard’s bones see trouble ahead. Tallie
Juneau sets Poe down and turns to me with a huge smile. “She’s here. Add Tallie and her truck to our list of assets.”
“Plus her bone-reading,” I say. “The possum sees trouble ahead. I guess that means Avery’s not just going to hand your people over and let us go.”
She nods. “Yeah, I wish she was more specific. The fact that trouble’s coming is kind of a given.”
“So what do we do? Send a return message asking her to meet us on the other side of the reserve?” I ask.
Juneau shakes her head. “No, you and I need to scout more first. Once we know what we’re dealing with, we’ll figure out how she can help.” She gets up and grabs the notebook and pencil out of the bag. “Plus, Poe has a more important mission to carry out first. I need to get word to my dad that we’re here.”
Juneau scribbles a note explaining that she and “a friend” are positioned on one end of Avery’s reserve. That we’re coming to free them. To be ready. And then she asks him to give her an indication of where they are located, if they are guarded, and what their situation is. She puts it in the envelope in Poe’s harness and sends him off into the night.
The note is typical Juneau. Factual. Efficient. Non-emotional. And, instead of signing off with “love” or some other affectionate term, she simply writes, “So many questions.” Fair enough. He’s lied to her, betrayed her, and withheld information about her own mother’s background.
So many questions. I hope, for Juneau’s sake, that her father will answer them. And that the answers will somehow make her feel better. She’s had enough bad news in the last few weeks to last her a lifetime.
25
JUNEAU
AFTER POE LEAVES, ALL I CAN THINK ABOUT IS the note he’ll bring back. What will Dad say? No doubt he and the rest of the clan have Read that I was coming. Hopefully he can give me some indication of where they are. That is, if they’ve been allowed to move outside of their immediate area. The only images I’ve gotten of them show them near the adobe huts.
I wonder if they’ve even seen Whit or know of his betrayal. I suppose that they Read him, too, and probably saw images of him with the guards. From that, I’m sure the elders could hypothesize as to his part in this story.
Miles builds the fire in silence as I take the rabbits from the cloth I hurriedly wrapped them in and prepare them for roasting. I am grateful that he leaves me with my thoughts instead of asking worried questions about how I am doing (like Kenai would) or drilling me for every single thought I had about the encounter with Whit (like Nome would).
Miles gets me. I mean, he didn’t at first. But he knows what I’ve gone through in the last few weeks. He was there. And he finally understands—as well as he can—what I come from.
“We’re leaving the fire and setting up camp further on,” she says.
“I thought you said Whit wouldn’t send guards after us.”
“No, but someone could have followed him,” she says. “Or, if they suspect he met with me, they could easily track his footprints back here. It would be foolish for us to stay.”
In five minutes we have the tent rolled up and most of the supplies packed into Juneau’s backpack. I follow her as she does her silent walk through the pitch-dark woods, trying to place my feet where she has stepped. What seems like an hour later we finally stop, and she looks around.
We’re in a little clearing where the lack of tree cover allows the moonlight to illuminate the ground. “Here’s good,” she says. “We can see enough to set up camp.”
We pitch the tent in silence, and I can tell that Juneau’s not just being quiet to avoid detection. She’s mulling over every word that came out of Whit’s mouth. Going over it again and again, trying to weed out the lies from the truth.
I’m focusing on hammering tent pins into the ground when I hear a flutter of wings and a loud squawk. I look up to see a large black bird, the size of a cat, swoop down from the darkness and land on the ground nearby.
“Poe!” Juneau yells. I can tell she’s using every ounce of restraint she possesses not to throw herself on the raven. Instead, she squats and holds out her hand toward him. He waddles over and lets her pet him and coo over him and I can’t help but roll my eyes. But when she looks over at me, her eyes shining with excitement, I have to admit I’m glad to see the bird, too.
“So after selling us out to Whit back in Utah, you decide to fly back and grace us with your birdy presence?” I call to him.
Poe looks at me and cocks his head to one side, as if he were actually listening. “Hey, look!” I say. “The bird finally acknowledges my presence.”
“Maybe he missed you, too,” Juneau jokes, and scoops Poe into her lap.
“Look at this fancy harness Tallie made you,” she says, and opens a little leather pouch attached to his back. She pulls a paper from inside.
“Can you hand me a flashlight?” she asks. I take one from the bag, crouch down behind her, and shine it on the paper as she unfolds it. She begins reading the large, loopy writing out loud as I follow along, peering over her shoulder.
Got your message, borrowed Mikey’s truck, and left immediately. I had just checked into a hotel in Roswell when Poe started acting all crazy like he wanted to get out. I figure you called him and am letting him go. I’m at the Days Inn, just up the road from the UFO Museum. If you’re near, come find me. If not, send a note by return raven. You and Mr. Take-You-Far better be careful. Beauregard’s bones see trouble ahead. Tallie
Juneau sets Poe down and turns to me with a huge smile. “She’s here. Add Tallie and her truck to our list of assets.”
“Plus her bone-reading,” I say. “The possum sees trouble ahead. I guess that means Avery’s not just going to hand your people over and let us go.”
She nods. “Yeah, I wish she was more specific. The fact that trouble’s coming is kind of a given.”
“So what do we do? Send a return message asking her to meet us on the other side of the reserve?” I ask.
Juneau shakes her head. “No, you and I need to scout more first. Once we know what we’re dealing with, we’ll figure out how she can help.” She gets up and grabs the notebook and pencil out of the bag. “Plus, Poe has a more important mission to carry out first. I need to get word to my dad that we’re here.”
Juneau scribbles a note explaining that she and “a friend” are positioned on one end of Avery’s reserve. That we’re coming to free them. To be ready. And then she asks him to give her an indication of where they are located, if they are guarded, and what their situation is. She puts it in the envelope in Poe’s harness and sends him off into the night.
The note is typical Juneau. Factual. Efficient. Non-emotional. And, instead of signing off with “love” or some other affectionate term, she simply writes, “So many questions.” Fair enough. He’s lied to her, betrayed her, and withheld information about her own mother’s background.
So many questions. I hope, for Juneau’s sake, that her father will answer them. And that the answers will somehow make her feel better. She’s had enough bad news in the last few weeks to last her a lifetime.
25
JUNEAU
AFTER POE LEAVES, ALL I CAN THINK ABOUT IS the note he’ll bring back. What will Dad say? No doubt he and the rest of the clan have Read that I was coming. Hopefully he can give me some indication of where they are. That is, if they’ve been allowed to move outside of their immediate area. The only images I’ve gotten of them show them near the adobe huts.
I wonder if they’ve even seen Whit or know of his betrayal. I suppose that they Read him, too, and probably saw images of him with the guards. From that, I’m sure the elders could hypothesize as to his part in this story.
Miles builds the fire in silence as I take the rabbits from the cloth I hurriedly wrapped them in and prepare them for roasting. I am grateful that he leaves me with my thoughts instead of asking worried questions about how I am doing (like Kenai would) or drilling me for every single thought I had about the encounter with Whit (like Nome would).
Miles gets me. I mean, he didn’t at first. But he knows what I’ve gone through in the last few weeks. He was there. And he finally understands—as well as he can—what I come from.
