Writing for Fun
June 2019
Nomads Pt. 4 - Maureen Rampersaud
The next day, the two families, now one family, were packed and on the move. Gwen and Owen had decided that twilight was the best time to travel. Any Utlagis, or ‘Utes’ as Tom called them, were likely to be drunk and noisy and less able to detect travelers on the road.
Gertie felt that she’d aged considerably since they last moved camp. Her bones ached with the weight of their belongings. She decided to eat as many red clover flowers as she could find on their journey. They’d decided to go across the border, back to the old country. Owen knew the terrain, so he led their small party, while Gwen, with only a slight limp, guarded the rear. They used the old roads for swiftness of travel, although it was riskier.
They had made good progress as dawn broke. Owen stopped. ‘We need to go into the forest now and lie low until dusk.’
‘Yes, and it will give us a chance to rest,’ agreed Gwen who had noticed how weary her mother was, although Gertie tried to hide it. They made their way into the forest until they found a sheltered spot to rest. After supper, Gertie whispered to Jenny, ‘I’m just going to look for some red clover flowers, don’t tell the others, they’d only fuss.’
‘You’re too tired, I’ll go, I’m quicker.’
Jenny was gone before Gertie could protest. She didn’t know what to do, she didn’t want to worry the others unnecessarily, so she decided to wait a short while in the hope that Jenny would reappear quickly. But she didn’t, so Gertie went straight to Owen and explained.
‘Come with me, Tom, she shouldn’t be hard to track.’
His voice was calm but Tom sensed that Owen was definitely worried. They came to a clearing where there were signs of a struggle. Tom picked up a discarded bunch of red clover flowers.
‘Come on, Tom, we’ve got to move fast. If it was a lone Ute who took her, we’ve got to get to him before he returns to the Utlagi camp!’
They ran silently, following their trail until they heard shouting, ‘Come on, if you don’t move, I’ll slit your throat . . . you won’t be so beautiful then!’
Owen moved so quickly, it took Tom’s breath away. By the time he reached them, Owen had a knife at the throat of the Utlagi youth who was begging for his life.
‘Pa . . . don’t . . . we’re not like them!’
Owen was jolted back to his true self by Jenny’s commanding tone. He released the miserable wretch.
‘Go, and if you tell them where to find us, I’ll cut more than your tongue out!’
When he’d gone, Tom asked, ‘Do you think we can trust him?’
‘Of course not!’ replied Owen as he hugged his daughter to his chest, ‘let’s get moving before his whole, nasty tribe are after us.’
A week later, after crossing the border, Owen mused, ‘We’re near home. Last time I was here was when Jenny and I were fleeing for our lives from the Herwyr tribe, our own local band of thugs’.
Jenny explained, ‘Pa and I didn’t want them to discover our homestead. Ma’s buried there. So we led them away and lost them when we crossed the border.’
Owen hurried on, ‘Come on, now, just over this hill.’
Tom couldn’t believe it, it was a small house built from logs. Gertie had told him that she’d lived in a house with solid walls before and that you stayed in one place. He didn’t really believe her, then. Owen went on ahead to check no-one had found his precious home but it was just as he’d left it. He called to them, ‘Come on, we’re safe!’
Gertie mumbled under her breath, ‘For now.’