Page 76 of The Two of Us at the End of the World

She nodded.

And if they know that they may well be out somewhere close looking for us, I said. So we keep still until dark. Then we won’t be seen, and then maybe we can see where they are by seeing the light from that fire.

And then we run away? she said.

Maybe, I said.

She jabbed me in the ribs with her bow and looked an incredulous question at me.

I don’t know, I said. We don’t know if they are Russians. We don’t know if that’s our goat that’s given us away. I think we have to go and spy on them.

You’re crazy, she hissed. We should run.

We should use our brains, I said.

I didn’t really need to think it through. I’d already made up my mind. I’m good at not being seen. I’m even better at moving slow and silent. With the wind in our favour and them with the disadvantage of a campfire to make their ability to look into the dark go away, I had no fear they would spot me. And though everything I said about it being wise to see if they’d found the goat-hobble and so the evidence of our presence so we could react accordingly, the deep truth of it all was that I was excited. Looking back, I should have been scared, but I just wasn’t. I was totally, maybe foolishly confident about my stalking skills, and the prospect of seeing more new humans was too much for me to resist. Even if it was only seeing them to confirm they were dangerous enough to run away from. It would be stupid to run for ever from something harmless, after all.

Storm crept close enough to whisper in my ear. I felt the heat of her breath as she did so.

You’re being dangerous, she said. Mouse. Please. You’re going to get us killed. Or worse.

It was the rough crack in her voice as she said “or worse” that almost made me change my mind. She’d always been too proud to show fear, but that’s what it was and I knew why it was there. If they were actually Russians, then what had happened to Freya might happen to Storm. I did pause for a moment to consider it from her point of view. I know I did. I must have.

But… said a little voice in my head. But…

I didn’t know it then, but I know it now. That “but” was where the wanting Cat had talked about got in. It was such an innocent looking three letter word, but it contained a multitude of possibilities. But… they might not be Russians. But… they might be kind people. But… they might be able to help us all. But… they might be friends. And even as I say this, I can hear Cat snorting in the back of my mind and saying, “Friends, Mouse. Are you sure you didn’t mean family?”

I didn’t. Not then. Not consciously. But who knows what goes on in the unthinking parts of your brain where the feelings happen instead of thoughts? I don’t think I was being soft, or dreamy, or hopeful. I was interested, excited even. And I was so sure I could travel the night woods silent as a badger or a fox. I was convinced I could be invisible in the dark.

I’ll find them by the light of their fire, I said. And we will hide up and keep a watch on them until they move off. Hopefully away from us. Heading north or east. Anywhere but south.

She shook her head and tugged my arm.

We should just go, she said. Mouse. Please.

There was that crack in her voice again, the one that I’d heard before and it made me pause and look at her in the failing light. I did feel bad. I’m sure I did. But I’d made my mind up. But I decided in that moment that she didn’t have to come with me.

OK, I said.

Beyond the thicket of box we were crouched beneath was a house with dead-eyed holes where the windows had once been that stared at us from behind the thick trunk of a monkey-puzzle tree. Looking up at the dense tangle of sharp leaved branches spread high overhead, I thought what I always did when we found one. That it looked sort of prehistoric and more suited to a world full of dinosaurs than people. But what I especially liked about it right then was that it was unlike any of the other vegetation around us. It was weirder, and even more importantly it was taller. About 40 metres high. That made it identifiable. That made it a landmark.

Right, I said to Storm, pulling her close enough to whisper in her ear. You don’t have to come. You stay here. You be careful in that house, in case the floor’s no good, and you stay on the ground floor. Upstairs can always fall in.

You’re going to leave me alone? she said.

I’m going to look at them, I said. I have to. But I promise I won’t be seen, and I promise I will come back and then we’ll go home together.

No, she said.

Even if it’s dawn, I’ll be back, I said, pointing at the tree. I can always find that tree, and if you stay here, at the bottom of it, out of sight, in that house, you’ll be safe.

And what if you don’t come back? she said. What if they are Russians and they get you and they come after me?

I reached down and unbuckled my belt. She watched as I slipped off the sheath that held my knife and held it out to her.

They won’t. But you’ve got a bow, and now you have a knife, I said. I will be back. If I thought this was dangerous, I wouldn’t do it, and I certainly wouldn’t do it without my lucky knife, would I?

Yes, she said, Yes, you are so… Mouse that you probably would.