Read Online Wild Lands by Nicole Alexander - Free Book Online Page B

accused.
    â€˜Must you burn here?’ Bronzewing complained. This is what they’d quarrelled about last night. ‘Surely we could go a mile or so further west. Jardi has told me how angry Mr Lycett is with the clan for burning his land. Do you really want to make things worse?’
    â€˜You have spent too much time with the whites.’
    Bronzewing adjusted the spear in his hand. It felt good to have the familiar weapon back in his grasp.
    â€˜Go,’ the older man told them.
    Bidjia waited as the two young men detoured around the slope of the hill so as not to disturb the animals. Spears in hand, the sinewy frame of Jardi matched the longer stride of his white brother. Although Bronzewing was a foot taller and well-muscled for his age, he’d had to train hard to match Jardi’s natural ability. The boyBidjia had taken from the humpy those many years ago was now a man, brought up in the ways of Bidjia’s people and schooled by the well-meaning Archibald Lycett, who’d tried to entice the boy back to an unknown God and the life he’d lost.
    When the boys were out of sight, Bidjia lit the grass. The flames caught quickly, fanning across the ground and gathering pace. A line of smoke rose into the sky as the fire grew in intensity, fed by the wind. Bidjia skirted the edge of the burnt ground. In the distance he could see a small group of wallabies racing away from the fire towards the waiting hunters. They would eat well tonight.
    By the time Bidjia reached the scrub, one of the animals had already been speared. Colby and Darel, the other men of his clan, were talking to Bronzewing and his son and were in a hurry to leave. They stood engulfed by the smoke, their eyes streaming, the wallaby lying on the ground between them.
    â€˜Lycett,’ Colby stated, explaining that one of the settler’s men was riding nearby on horseback.
    â€˜Let’s go,’ Bidjia told them.
    Bronzewing led Bidjia and Jardi westward through the dense bush. They followed a different path to that of the other two men in case the whites gave chase, weaving through thick trees gnarled with age. Their route back to the camp was not direct but if they were lucky, Lycett wouldn’t be able to prove that it was them who had lit the fire, although the man would guess at the truth.
    â€˜You can go to Lycett and make the peace if it is needed,’ Bidjia told Bronzewing. The white boy had formed a bond with the settler over the years and was friends with Lycett’s eldest, a straggly-limbed youth named Winston, who spent most of his time drawing shapes on paper. It was a strange occupation for a man.
    They ran at a steady pace in single file, startling the odd kangaroo and wallaby. Through the trees ahead they could see sheep grazing and, close to the animals, a shepherd. Bidjia was quick to change their path. They crossed a dry gully and werenearly out of sight of the shepherd when a musket shot rang out. They halted immediately, fearing the worst.
    â€˜It is some distance from us,’ Bronzewing advised, ‘and with the wind as it is the sound could have travelled much further.’
    Bidjia wasn’t convinced but they kept moving. The boy was usually right. Most of the settlers in the area knew Bronzewing, although they called him by his white name, Adam. As a child he’d been known as the bush-boy, a description that had allowed him to move relatively freely between blacks and whites, but with age came mistrust. There were some on both sides who questioned his loyalty and treated him warily. But Bidjia was glad to have taken Bronzewing from the hut near the water on the other side of the mountain. A man could never have too many strong sons. Had he been a weakling he would have abandoned him, but the boy was quick to learn and begrudgingly his clan accepted him.
    When Bidjia had first come across the humpy, the day of the white man’s leaving, he knew from the beginning that the