Chapter Twelve

It became evident that the men had discovered a shallow point in the river where it would be relatively easy to wade across. One of the men related this to the boy with hand gestures and a series of low grunting noises; the girls had come to realise that this was how they spoke to one another. Katrin wondered if it was a language in its own right, or merely a primeval form of communication which they had developed for themselves.

Both she and Meredith knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that these men were from an Indian tribe. The way they dressed, the way they moved, and all their weaponry and tools which they carried over their shoulders in leather pouches made it impossible to believe otherwise. The thought had crossed Katrin’s mind several times that perhaps these were the men who had killed the child’s mother. In fact, it was more than likely. So why had they preserved Katrin and Meredith’s lives, and the life of the child? It didn’t make sense. All Katrin knew was that she had to get away and get away fast, before it was too late.

**

Her window of opportunity came at a time when she least felt like following through with her plan.

Most of the men were more than half-way across the river already, and Meredith was draped over one of their shoulders. Katrin and the boy were bringing up the rear. Suddenly, without any warning, Meredith slipped from the shoulders of the man who had been carrying her and crashed into the water. She cried out as she hit the sharp rocks; the water went over her head; she disappeared entirely from view.

At first the men only stared. The first man grunted and made as though to continue on his way. Realising the others lack of intention to help, the boy left Katrin where she was standing at the edge of the water and rushed to Meredith’s timely rescue. As he lifted her weak body from what should have been her watery grave, Katrin could see that her sister was breathless, bruised and bleeding, but nevertheless, still alive. She knew that the boy would make sure she was OK. So this was it, then. The opportunity she had been waiting for. With the other men pressing ahead and the boy preoccupied with Meredith, she knew that the time had come.

Quickly, silently, she scrambled back up onto the bank. Her legs were weary, her wrists burned and smarted from the twine that had bound them together before the men had decided that she should be made to carry the baby, her whole body ached, her mind felt numb. But there was nothing else for it. She held the baby close and with every last drop of energy she could muster, turned on her heel and ran. Ran as fast as she could, as softly as she could, away from those men and the river and Meredith. She ran with one purpose- to get help. To save herself and Meredith- and the baby- from whatever doom was lurking in the offing. The doom that she had read so often in those Indian men’s eyes. She ran like she had never run before. She felt sure that their lives depended on it.