Thrown to the Wolves (The Faith in Peril Trilogy) (8 page)

“What?” The animal began barking. “What’s wrong, girl?”

Anna grasped a rock, holding it in her hands. “There’s something over there!” she whispered. “I see yellow eyes!”

The joy of having found water disappeared instantly. “No, Molly!” She growled nosily, scrambling up the embankment and disappearing into the bushes. “Molly!”

Chapter Six

A commotion occurred in the underbrush, the branches rustling. The low growl of an animal accompanied this disturbance. “Molly!” A high-pitched shriek sent a shiver down my spine, but it had not come from our pet. “Molly! What’s happening to you, girl?” She burst out of the foliage a moment later, ambling over to us. “What have you done, you silly dog? You’ll hurt yourself, if you don’t stop that.”

“She’s fine, but we need to return to camp. I don’t like this.”

Those words troubled me. Anna hadn’t felt this way earlier. “It was likely a raccoon or a skunk or some such creature. They all come out at night, don’t they?”

“The fire will keep them away. Let’s go back now.” She held the bucket in her hand.

“Come along, Molly. I’ll have to check her for bites. What if she was attacked?”

“I don’t know,” murmured Anna. “It sounded strange. I need to sit and rest for a while. I’m weary of all of this now.”

Reaching out, I took her arm. “I’ll help you back.” Our roles had reversed, as I offered her comfort. Whatever she had seen in the forest had bothered her. “It’s going to be fine. We’ll settle down for the night and then go home in the morning.”

“Yes,” she murmured. “I hope so.”

Jacob had doubled the size of the fire, the flames licking upwards in yellows and reds, flickering heartily, while giving off a tremendous amount of heat. I sat with Anna and Molly, who I began to examine for scratches and bites. I could find nothing in her fur to indicate a wound and she did not bleed. The bucket sat in the flames, and the water would boil soon, so we could drink it.

I patted Molly’s head. She seemed relaxed at that moment, gazing at me with her tongue hanging from the side of her mouth. “You’re an impossible dog. You’re going to get yourself into trouble if you’re not careful.”

“I don’t think the leaves will help much,” said Anna, touching them with her fingertips. “There’s no padding.”

“They’ll keep us from getting wet, because the dirt’s damp, but nothing more. We’ll be sore come morning.”

She sat with her arms around her knees, her look resigned. “You’ve made a good fire, Jacob. It’s perfect. At least we’ll be warm.”

“I told you I could do it.” He got to his feet, reaching for the walking stick. “I gotta hit the privy. Then it’s off to bed for me. Who knows how long we’ll be able to sleep.” He sounded entirely grown up and not at all like a child.

“Dat would be proud of that fire, Jacob,” I said, smiling at him.

“He’s the one who taught me. I learned it all from him.”

I smiled, fighting tears suddenly, but they were from joy and gratitude, because I had been blessed with a smart and helpful brother. “Be careful, and don’t go too far.”

“I won’t.” He tramped off into the trees, disappearing, but we could hear him nearby.

“We should try to sleep,” I said.

“I’m thinking of taking the apron off and folding it for a pillow. It’ll be thin, but I don’t want my head directly on the ground.”

“That’s a sound idea.”

“Thank you.”

“At least we’ve stockings on to protect our legs. It’s not raining, and it’s not too cold. We should be grateful for that. The water will be ready soon.”

“When Jacob returns, let’s say our prayers and go to bed. I have a feeling I’ll not sleep well. There’s something … well, there are animals out there. It’s their forest, and we’re trespassing. They’re watching us.”

“Rabbits and things. They’ll leave us be. The fire will scare them away. We’ve no food to attract them.”

“Yes, that’s true.” She had removed her apron, folding it. “I just hope the dog stays put. If she’s running around all night causing a fuss, it’ll be even harder to sleep.”

“If only we had some rope to keep her, but we don’t.” Jacob had returned. “How was it?” I asked.

“Just fine.” He had brought several branches with him, one especially large. “This should do us for a few hours.” He placed the items upon a stack of limbs for later use.

His maturity struck me, yet again. “You’ve done a fine job with the fire. We’d be sitting in the dark, if it wasn’t for you.”

He grinned. “Not to worry. I’ll take care of you girls. You’re in good hands.”

Anna laughed, “How precious. He’s the little man around the house.”

“I am. I’ll take care of everything, and, in the morning, I’ll find the way out.”

“Thank you, Jacob,” I said, although I doubted it would be that easy.

He sat across from us with his legs stretched out before him. “It’s my pleasure.”

Being in the company of my siblings gave me a measure of comfort, despite suffering in the elements. “Let’s say our prayers and have some water. Then we can go to bed.”

“I’ll begin, if you want me to,” offered Anna.

“Please.” We bowed our heads, clasping our hands before us.

“Dear Lord, our Heavenly Father, please watch over us. We’re all alone in the wilderness, and we need your guidance and protection. Please keep the animals away, and help us to sleep. Please let Dat and David find us in the morning. Bless us and guide us to safety. We humbly ask that you keep us from harm. We were without light, and you’ve given us fire, for which we’re grateful. We needed water, and you helped us to find it. Please lead us to safety tomorrow. We strive to do your will in all things, Amen.”

“Amen,” I said.

“I’ll say the Lord’s Prayer,” offered Jacob.

I glanced at him. “Thank you.”

When the prayers had concluded and the water was gone, we settled in to sleep, although the ground felt hard and uncomfortable. I folded the apron beneath my head, facing Anna, who lay on her side. “Our shoulders will ache in the morning,” I whispered.

“And our backs.”

Molly had joined Jacob, sitting with him on his pile of leaves. “It’s just one night. We can manage for a few more hours.” I yawned, feeling tired and weary, but doubting I would be able to sleep. The fire had heated the space thoroughly; the flames remained strong, flickering vibrantly. “It’s going to be fine,” I said mostly to myself.

“I hope so.” Anna closed her eyes, murmuring, “God will watch over us. No harm shall come to those who believe in Him. There is some security in that notion.”

I reached out to touch her hand. “Yes. It’s a comfort to know He is here with us.”

“He is.”

“Good night, Anna.”

“Good night, Rebekah.”

“Good night, Jacob,” I said.

“Night, girls. You sleep tight.”

Dat frequently said those words. “Yes, we will.”

I closed my eyes, but sleep remained illusive. I lay listening to the fire, with its crackling and snapping, the branches and pinecones burning. The constant drone of crickets resonated, but it was the noises further off that worried me. While Anna slept, her soft snores drifting around me, I listened to the creatures in the distance, shrieking and growling. A chorus of howls followed this. I sat up at one point, worried the dog would wake, but Molly slept by Jacob’s side. He had his arm around her midsection. The fire had died down marginally, and, when it came close to extinguishing completely, I added a few more branches. Then I sat with my arms over my knees, staring tiredly into the blackness, as worry and fear would not let me sleep.

In the morning, I did succumb to exhaustion, falling to the thin bed of leaves, but the reprieve did not last long, as Molly woke me with her wet tongue.

“Aw … stop that,” I grumbled.

I looked at where Anna slept, finding her missing. She had left the bed of leaves. The fire smoked, having died down to almost nothing, the aroma of burnt wood clinging to my clothing. Shaking out the apron, I tied it to my waist, while getting to my feet. It became greatly important to find my brother and sister, who had gone missing. Being close to dawn, the surrounding gloom slowly came into focus, as diffused light filtered down through the branches.

A shape weaving amongst the bushes garnered my attention, the tan fur of an animal presenting itself. Molly appeared then. “Where is everyone?” The dog approached, sniffing my hand. I petted her. “Are they at the creek?” I assumed Anna and Jacob had gone in this direction. My belly grumbled, but I ignored it. “Let’s go find them, shall we?” I said my prayers as I walked. “Oh, Lord, our Father. Thank you for seeing us through the night. Thank you for keeping us safe and warm. Please help us find our parents today. Bless Dat and Mam and Ruth and David. Bless Abe, that sweet little baby.” A sense of yearning registered, accompanied by a feeling of homesickness. “How I miss everyone. I miss Mam. Amen.” I hurried towards the creek, hearing voices. “There you are.” I found Anna and Jacob by the water’s edge, washing their hands and faces. “Good morning.”

It became lighter with the dawn. The stream looked rather small, the water hardly bigger than a trickle in places. There were greenish, slimy-looking rocks scattered amongst gray, slickened ones, but the creek was clear, the bottom sandy.

“Good morning, Rebekah,” said Jacob. “I slept like a baby.” He stretched his arms over his head. “I’m hungry. I wish we had food.”

“I slept rather well too.” Anna smiled kindly. “You look tired.”

“I should be. I couldn’t sleep. I was awake most of the night.”

“You poor thing. You should’ve said something.”

“And ruin your sleep? No. I plan to have a nap in my own bed later. Why haven’t we heard gunshots yet?”

“It’s very early. They’re still sleeping.”

I shook my head, not believing this. “No. Dat’s coming now. I know it. He’s already awake. He must be out of his mind with worry.”

Jacob knelt before the creek, lifting a rock out of the water. “Can we eat minnows?”

“If you can catch them,” I said. “We can boil them in the bucket. I’m eternally grateful you brought that bucket with you.” I bent to cup water, bringing fluid to my face. I washed away the grime from the campfire. “It’s so quiet now.” The crickets had ceased to make noise, and the stillness seemed eerie.

“I’m going back,” said Anna. “We need to start the fire again. Bring water with you. I’ll look for more branches to burn.”

“I’ll do that,” said Jacob.

Anna smiled at him. “Thank you.”

“That’s a good idea,” I agreed. “Then we need to decide what we’ll do. I’m expecting gunshots any minute.”

“Me too.” Anna approached, lifting the bottom of her dress over the rocks. Dirt had discolored the hem. “I wonder how far we came? We couldn’t have gone more than a mile. Maybe we went in one big circle?”

“I haven’t a clue. I’m all turned around now.” I washed my hands and arms. Molly ambled over to the water’s edge, bending to drink from the stream. I glared at her. “I suppose we shouldn’t even bother to ask you for help, you irritating dog. You made everything so much worse.”

“We can’t trust her in the least,” said Anna. “But there’s nothing we can do about it now. I’m going back. I need to say my morning prayers.”

“I said mine on the way here.”

“Jacob and I will say ours at camp while we boil water.”

“Race you there!” Jacob broke into a run, which caught Molly’s attention, the dog chasing him.

“He forgot the bucket.” Anna rolled her eyes. “For gracious sake.” She bent to retrieve it, dunking it in the water repeatedly. “This stream isn’t very deep.”

“I’ll finish here, and join you.”

Patting my shoulder, her smile was sympathetic. “It’s going to be fine. We’ll be rescued today and tonight we’ll be home.”

“I hope so.”

I gazed at my reflection in the creek, seeing a woman with clear skin and bright eyes. We did not have a mirror in our home, but I had observed myself in windows before. From what I had been able to ascertain, I wasn’t especially beautiful, yet my features were pleasing enough. My cheekbones were similar to Mam’s, arched and prettily shaped, while my mouth appeared full and my chin slightly pointy. My hair, which was hidden beneath the
kapp
, was dark blonde in color, with wisps of lighter shades throughout.

A crack sounded in the distance, and I jumped to my feet. “Oh, Dat!” I shouted. “He’s coming for us!” I hurried to the campsite, where Jacob and Anna were, standing by the fire. “Do you hear that?” Excitement raced through me. “Where’s it coming from?” Another shot resounded, but it seemed to reverberate, echoing in all directions. “What do you think?” Jacob pointed to the left, while Anna pointed right. My shoulders slumped. “What does that mean?”

“It’s this way,” said Jacob confidently.

“No, this way.”

“Oh, no.” I had been so hopeful gunfire would help.

“It’s too far away.” Jacob’s mouth had formed a grim line. “We’ve gone further than I thought. I don’t think we went in circles.”

“For Pete’s sake,” I muttered. “What will happen now?”

“Dat’s far away, Rebekah.” My sister tied the strings of her
kapp
beneath her chin. “It’s impossible to tell which way the shot came.”

“But it’s not towards the creek,” I said. “It sounds like it’s from that direction.” I pointed behind Anna. “Let’s go that way, but we should rip some fabric from our dresses first. Then we tie them to the trees. That’s how we’ll know if we’ve gone to the same place.”

Anna nodded. “Smart idea.” She reached for her hem, pulling on the material. “How is this supposed to work?”

“Use a stick to make a hole and then tear it from there.” I reached for a nearby twig, showing her by example. “We’ll need a few strips each. Someone will recognize the fabric and know where we’ve been.”

Jacob tossed a handful of twigs into the fire. “I reckon this should boil soon.”

I tore another strip of cloth. “We can alternate between the light and dark blue.”

“I wish we had done this yesterday, but how were we to know we’d be lost like this? Then Mam would’ve been angry at us for ruining our clothes.”