“Lying down on the floor…inside the house…with your eyes closed…” Ben said, rolling his eyes. “Yes. You’re an excellent look out. No one could possibly penetrate our fortress of a home.”
“Oh ho, well trained and suitably qualified Sergeant,” Gus said. He laid his arm heavily across his eyes. “I’m sorry to have failed you. In the future, I will more diligently try to follow your example and sit at the table gorging myself on raisins.”
Ben laughed and glanced out the window. “I think we’re safe anyway, despite our best efforts.”
“Well,” Gus said with a flinch, “maybe not so much. Martha may or may not be a bit frustrated with our day filled with games and our conspicuous lack of completed work by the time she gets back.”
Ben popped another raisin in his mouth. “We can take her, I think.”
Tiny streams of sunlight filtered through the trees and into the window. Gus sighed comfortably as he wiggled across the floor towards them.
“Have you seen Tess lately?” he asked.
“Well, yesterday we met for lunch, but only for a few minutes. Her housemates have been rambunctious of late and she’s been spending extra time cleaning up after their…er…shenanigans. Her words, not mine,” he added.
“And before that? How long ago was it before that?”
“That I’d seen Tess? I think it was a couple of days before.” Ben narrowed his eyes and popped another raisin. “Why do you care?”
“I just find you two highly intriguing,” Gus said, rolling onto his side to face Ben. “You know you’ll never be lashed, right? If you’re not lashed yet…”
Ben shook his head. “Just stop there, Gus. Tess and I… That’s not us.”
“Okay.” They looked at each other, Gus probing, Ben defending. “It is too bad, though,” Gus said pointedly after a moment.
Ben didn’t say anything. He just popped another raisin.
As the minutes slipped by, the spots of light on the floor of the cabin slid across Gus’ face, further and further up the wall. After a time, Gus’ breathing became even and loud. Ben still sat at the table, his bowl now empty. He listened for sounds of the troop that was roaming around the woods looking for their hideout, sounds that were unlikely to come.
He stood up and walked to the open door and leaned his elbows on the balcony railing. The air was wet with autumn; Ben watched the goose bumps rise on his arms. A large black raven landed on a branch of a tree near where he stood. She looked at him directly and croaked, in the beautiful and chilling way that ravens have. She probed and he defended. Then she cocked her head, croaked again, and flew off.
The forest around him was alive with movement, which threw him off. Usually the forest looked like the decaying wasteland that it was because few animals could easily find safe homes in the trees and had to live elsewhere. It was their wild activity that gave life to the eternally dying woods, and it was so rarely encountered en masse—usually only one or two birds or squirrels came at a time searching in vain for food.
All the creatures in these hills knew the land’s deep secret, the truth that lay buried and constantly growing under the soil and bark. Most animals that could avoid this landscape did; they gained nothing from it, and it could take so much without their knowledge.
Not so today. Ben watched a group of small birds take flight over the yellowing canopy and fly off towards the western hills, away from the center of the forest.
Ben heard from below him soft footsteps accompanied by the whips and scratches of tiny branches being pushed aside. The air was quiet but thick, and Ben could only guess how far off the person was.
“Gus,” he called softly. “Either our foes have sent a scout and we’ll actually have to participate in this game now, or Martha is back.”
Gus gave a little groan and slowly rolled into a kneeling position. “Can we just pretend that it’s not Martha and fire our ammunition at whoever they are?”
“My guess is that the game ended hours ago.”
“But I would really like to continue postponing whatever it is Martha has for us on her to-do list.”
“So…you think pelting her with pebbles and berries and thwarting her attempts to reenter her own home is going to have a good outcome for you, then?”
Gus blinked. “You’re right.” He stood up and walked over and grabbed the now empty bowl of raisins and brought to the small sink filled with plates and silver from the night before. “I’ll wash these if you’ll change the sheets.”
Ben went to the second room where the three beds were and began stripping off the linen. He had gotten as far as refitting the first two beds when he felt someone begin climbing the ladder to the door. He finished quickly and stuffed the dirty sheets into the closet behind a box of his old clothes. By the time he walked back into the kitchen, Martha was standing in the doorway, kicking dead leaves off of her shoes.
“I assume I would be correct in guessing that you two have done approximately nothing all day?”
Gus and Ben shared a look of innocent confusion. “What makes you think so ill of us, sister?” Ben asked.
“Some boys came into the shop today asking around if anyone knew where your ‘hideout’ was. I guessed, being the sly warriors that you are, you would forgo the rules of engagement just this once and laze about in your house.”
“Surely you can’t be serious!” Gus mock exclaimed.
“It doesn’t matter to me, really. We’re going away for dinner anyway.”
Both Ben and Gus’ brows furrowed. “Where exactly is ‘away’?” Ben asked.
“Geneva, a friend of mine, knows a few sets of lashlings who are looking for people hungry enough to try their new recipes.”
Gus’ eyes brightened, and Ben concealed his anxiety with equal happiness. “No dishes then. Let’s go.”
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