said.
“This is true,” said the Guide, “and why do we question what has been given, when it was needed?”
“That's a point,” said Dad cheerfully. “Ours is not to reason why, and never look a dead gift rabbit in the mouth.”
The Guide, who was picking the rabbit up by the back legs and drawing his knife, stopped and lookedso puzzled at this that Dad had to explain the true saying to him, which he thought was a really good one. He became very cheerful too, and said there was plenty of firewood here on the bank, and we deserved a really good breakfast after yesterday.
Then, thankfully, he took the rabbit away to deal with it, and Mum and Dad sorted out the fire, so that I could get up in a bit of peace.
Hot roast meat is a strange sort of breakfast, but at the time it tasted like the best one I could remember eating, ever.
There wasn't very much—one rabbit doesn't go far between four people, and this one was skinny as there was so little food here for it. But we all went quiet and concentrated as we ate, and I made mine last as long as I could, and then we all licked our fingers before having a few swigs of water each, and packing up the things again.
It was good to put on my socks and sandals again, and set off on foot like everyone else. As the Guide set off ahead of the donkey, upriver along the bank, Dadturned to me and said, “All right, Tiger? It's up the mountain today!”
“Yep,” I said, “I'm good at climbing.”
“Good,” called back the Guide, “but don't worry, we are using the pass and it is narrow in places, but not too steep after the first part.”
Just then, there was a distant bang, a pause, and then another. The Guide stopped and listened.
“Is that thunder?” asked Mum, looking at him, and then at the sky, puzzled. It was colorless and cold, as ever.
The Guide didn't say anything, but stood grim-faced, listening. We were all quiet. I could see from Mum and Dad's faces that the grown-ups, as usual, were all in on something, and I didn't know what.
“What is it?” I asked, and at that moment there was another dull bang, from somewhere way behind us, and a nasty, sharp, repeated crack, crack, like a firework.
“The fighting has come,” said the Guide simply, and the look on his face was not of fear, but sadness.
“Will they … I mean, will we … ?” I asked urgently. I didn't want to be in a war. I had seen the people with bits missing, whom Mum and Dad had helped in our village.
“Their war is down there, not up here,” said the Guide reassuringly, waving his arm in the direction we'd come from.
“Are you sure there won't be soldiers up here?” I asked.
“Fighting men, maybe, I wouldn't call them soldiers,” he said. “Some are hiding in the mountains. But they have no quarrel with you and your parents. Don't worry.” And he turned and walked more quickly along the bank, the donkey jogging to catch up, and Mum and Dad and me hurrying behind.
We walked in silence for a while, listening to the terrible sounds behind us. I kept reminding myself, Everyone has gone, everyone has left. They can only blow up the huts and houses. But then I thought of the rough little house that we had called home for so long, and the things we'd had to leave behind, andthe school hut Mum and Dad had helped build, and I felt a lump in my throat. Looking at Mum, I realized she must have been thinking the same thing, so I caught up with her, held her hand and gave it a squeeze.
Mum is really very pretty, but now I saw that her hair, which is usually shiny and dark, stuck to her face in dusty strands, and her eyes looked tired and old. There were pale streaks in the grime on her cheeks, and I realized with a shock that they were made by tears.
Mum absolutely never cried. Even now, you wouldn't have known it. She sniffed a bit, and her nose went a bit red, but she kept on walking without making any other sound.
I looked back at Dad, and he must have seen something in my face,
“This is true,” said the Guide, “and why do we question what has been given, when it was needed?”
“That's a point,” said Dad cheerfully. “Ours is not to reason why, and never look a dead gift rabbit in the mouth.”
The Guide, who was picking the rabbit up by the back legs and drawing his knife, stopped and lookedso puzzled at this that Dad had to explain the true saying to him, which he thought was a really good one. He became very cheerful too, and said there was plenty of firewood here on the bank, and we deserved a really good breakfast after yesterday.
Then, thankfully, he took the rabbit away to deal with it, and Mum and Dad sorted out the fire, so that I could get up in a bit of peace.
Hot roast meat is a strange sort of breakfast, but at the time it tasted like the best one I could remember eating, ever.
There wasn't very much—one rabbit doesn't go far between four people, and this one was skinny as there was so little food here for it. But we all went quiet and concentrated as we ate, and I made mine last as long as I could, and then we all licked our fingers before having a few swigs of water each, and packing up the things again.
It was good to put on my socks and sandals again, and set off on foot like everyone else. As the Guide set off ahead of the donkey, upriver along the bank, Dadturned to me and said, “All right, Tiger? It's up the mountain today!”
“Yep,” I said, “I'm good at climbing.”
“Good,” called back the Guide, “but don't worry, we are using the pass and it is narrow in places, but not too steep after the first part.”
Just then, there was a distant bang, a pause, and then another. The Guide stopped and listened.
“Is that thunder?” asked Mum, looking at him, and then at the sky, puzzled. It was colorless and cold, as ever.
The Guide didn't say anything, but stood grim-faced, listening. We were all quiet. I could see from Mum and Dad's faces that the grown-ups, as usual, were all in on something, and I didn't know what.
“What is it?” I asked, and at that moment there was another dull bang, from somewhere way behind us, and a nasty, sharp, repeated crack, crack, like a firework.
“The fighting has come,” said the Guide simply, and the look on his face was not of fear, but sadness.
“Will they … I mean, will we … ?” I asked urgently. I didn't want to be in a war. I had seen the people with bits missing, whom Mum and Dad had helped in our village.
“Their war is down there, not up here,” said the Guide reassuringly, waving his arm in the direction we'd come from.
“Are you sure there won't be soldiers up here?” I asked.
“Fighting men, maybe, I wouldn't call them soldiers,” he said. “Some are hiding in the mountains. But they have no quarrel with you and your parents. Don't worry.” And he turned and walked more quickly along the bank, the donkey jogging to catch up, and Mum and Dad and me hurrying behind.
We walked in silence for a while, listening to the terrible sounds behind us. I kept reminding myself, Everyone has gone, everyone has left. They can only blow up the huts and houses. But then I thought of the rough little house that we had called home for so long, and the things we'd had to leave behind, andthe school hut Mum and Dad had helped build, and I felt a lump in my throat. Looking at Mum, I realized she must have been thinking the same thing, so I caught up with her, held her hand and gave it a squeeze.
Mum is really very pretty, but now I saw that her hair, which is usually shiny and dark, stuck to her face in dusty strands, and her eyes looked tired and old. There were pale streaks in the grime on her cheeks, and I realized with a shock that they were made by tears.
Mum absolutely never cried. Even now, you wouldn't have known it. She sniffed a bit, and her nose went a bit red, but she kept on walking without making any other sound.
I looked back at Dad, and he must have seen something in my face,
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