On The Run

Her small feet thudded softly on the damp forest ground, and she let out the occasional yelp of pain as a bare foot was placed on a sharp rock or stick. Her long and tattered grey skirt was continuously being snagged on bushes and thorns, but she still struggled onward. She could no longer hear the screams of the town’s folk behind her, nor see the shadows made by their touches. She had left them behind, and was now alone, deep in the untamed forest that surrounded her home village. Had her mother not sacrificed herself by making a diversion, the young girl would never have gotten away in the end. Anora began to slow down, half of the realization that she was alone and far from safety, and half that she was tiring. How far had she come?


The black haired girl looked behind her for quite awhile before glancing around the rest of the area she had stopped in. Every now and then the call of an owl would make her jump, and the howl of a wolf make her look for somewhere to hide. Where was she going? It was way past midnight, and the cold was more than unbearable. Eventually she found a small mound of rocks jutting from the ground, and crawled into a gap. One good thing about her small, skinny body was that she could fit into the smallest spaces. As she slowly fell into a light sleep, her memory kept flashing back to the visions of her mother’s death. How she was tied to the large wooden pole. How she was set in the middle of a fierce fire. How the flames lapped around her mothers screaming body. And all Anora did was stand in the crowd with the other towns folk screaming "Burn! Burn!" whilst they thrust their torches and pitchforks into the air. She tried hard not to show how upset she was, how she wished she could just conjure her mother off the pole and the two of them could run off together. But Anora had sworn to her mother she would not tell anyone that they were related, and how they shared a different life to the rest of the village. They were the outcasts of the village. But Anora's mother had been caught, and now the young girl was on the run, having been caught herself.


As the morning began to dawn in the misty green forest and the small birds began to wake, Anora crawled out of her small crevice. She allowed her hazel eyes to wander, soaking in the beauty of a land untouched by white people. She smiled softly to herself as she watched a young doe nudge her first fawn away from the unknown creature that stood on two legs. After a few minutes hunger pains set in, and Anora realised that she needed to find food. But what was out here that she could eat? Surly there would be some berries somewhere? The young girl set off, still heading in the direction that led her away from the town.


The forest steadily began to get harder for her to penetrate, with fallen trees, twigs and bushes covering her way. But she still managed, with her skirt catching on the stray branches, and her hair entwining itself on twigs somehow. The day moved on slowly, and Anora still had not found food. Night set in, and the coolness of the autumn frost began to creep into the forest. The birds began to quieten, and she no longer saw the deer or any other animals wandering past her. She found a hollow tree just as her vision was impaired by the darkness. The tree was large, and the floor of its hollow trunk was soft sand. She crawled inside and settled herself against the furthest side of the trees wood, and fell instantly into a soft sleep. It was too dark for her to notice the small foot prints inside the tree, nor the small and collapsed pile of leaves.


Anora stirred softly the next morning, feeling eyes on her. She looked around the still dark hollow, shading her eyes from the bright light that framed the figure that sat at the hollows entrance. Figure? Anora shot to her feet at the sight of the boy before her, and was knocked out by the tree's hard wood.


Again Anora opened her hazel eyes, and instantly placed her hand on her head to inspect what damage she had done. She glanced around quickly, seeing that she was now outside of the tree's hollow.
"Bilaganna! Nukpana at'eed!' (*white person, evil girl*) the young boy said, almost yelling, in her face, his bow loaded with a feathered arrow that he stabbed into her temple, yet not hard enough to cut her. Anora looked up at him, her eyes wide and her head still in her hand. He was a little older than her, and she could tell he was an Indian. A single feather was platted in his silky black hair, and his face had two thick lines painted horizontally on either cheek. He also had another two lines drawn, but these ones were vertical, on either side of his broad chest. Their eyes meet, once she had finished looking over his strange outfit. His deep brown eyes were full of anger and hatred, and hers held the fear of coming face to face with one whom the town’s people called a 'savage'.


"Cocheta...’ (*stranger*) he said, stabbing the arrow at her temple again. He let one hand go off the bow briefly as he pointed to the hollow tree before placing his lanky hand back upon it and aiming the arrow at her temple again.
"Awenasa...” Anora looked at him, utterly confused by what he was saying. She glanced around, looking for something to either attack him with or use for communication. Whilst she looked around without moving, she tried to remember some of the words her mother said sometimes.
"Akule!" (*look up*) he yelled, stabbing an arrow head into her ribs. Anora winced in pain before finally remembering some of the words her mother said.
"Apemimon...” (*worthy of trust*)Anora said, placing her hand on her chest. The boy looked at her, rather confused that she had spoken his language.
"Matwau...Megedagik" (*enemy and kills many*) he mumbled, looking deep into her eyes, as if he was searching her entire being.
"Apemimon?" Anora laughed softly - though she received another prod with his arrow - at his last word, for that was the only one so far that she knew. She nodded her head, and spoke the word again, and this time a small smile formed on the boys face. His eyes became bright as he laughed, nodding his head enthusiastically. Anora looked at him, making an effort to smile. He dropped the bow and arrow and pointed one finger on his chest.
"Tokala..!" (*fox*) he said, continuing to poke at his chest.
"I-is that your name..." Anora asked, but shaking her head, knowing that he would not understand.
"Anora...” the girl said, guessing that was what he was talking about, and placing her hand to her chest again. Tokala reached his hand toward her shoulder, and helped to pull her into a sitting position against a tree.
"Anora..!" he said happily, placing his hand on the same place on her chest that she had her own hand. Anora nodded her head, feeling a little uncomfortable that this strange boy had his hand just above her breast. He shook his head before speaking again.
"Istas Nijlon..! (*snow fairy*) he said softly, patting his hand on her chest before sitting back on his heels, a very large smile on his face. Anora raised one eyebrow as he sat back. What did he mean? Was he giving her a new name?


Tokala stood up and stretched out his hand, waiting for her to reach up to him. Anora placed her hand in his and he pulled her to her feet. The black haired girl almost fell to the ground from dizziness, and her vision became blurry. Tokala let Anora lean on him as he led her back toward the hollow tree, and placed her inside it. The little 'home' now had a blanket made of two wolf skins sown together and the leaves were now piled up and placed under a deer skin for a pillow. Anora was suddenly overcome by exhaustion, and - once he had placed her head on the pillow - allowed him to examine her body. He looked over the deep cuts on her feet and the bruises on her legs, and the tiny poke marks he had made with his arrow on her temple. But mostly, he looked at her hair and felt the smooth texture it had, much like his own, and her skin pigment, amazed by the colour.


As the months passed and winter set in, Anora began to understand the simple things Tokala said. The freezing winter would have been the end of the young girl if she had not found her indian friend. He had said something about going back to his village with her - or at least that was what she made out of it. She had wondered if that would be a good thing or not.