Chapter One

Tarin curled his toes a bit tighter against the bark as he scooted his butt back, and leaned against the tree trunk. He wanted to be securely lodged to munch on his blackberries and nuts. He’d gotten more scratched than usual gathering the berries and he wasn’t inclined to share them with Cory who had done no work. He was a good ten arms off the ground and there were still plenty of leaves on the oak to hide him from grounders. He felt bad for the kids who couldn’t climb well -- one less escape route and hiding spot -- but Tarin relished the solitude and view. He sighed as he popped the first squishy purple fruit into his mouth. The woods were both lonely and crowded. The boys always knew where everyone was and what they were doing -- it was good sense -- but it was also smart to stay scattered in the run up to hunting season. Tarin hated the combination of no privacy and no real settled spot to call safe.

Tarin rolled the fruit around his mouth and mashed his tongue up to make it burst. Lady! It was good. Still warm from the sun and the sweetest thing he’d tasted all year. He wanted to gorge, but he pulled out two hazel nuts and squeezed them against each other so their shells cracked. He grunted -- he’d not lost his knack since last year -- the kernels were intact and he flipped away the shells.

He chewed thoughtfully as he scanned the woodland canopy. His oak wasn’t the tallest tree by any means, but he could see clear to where the men lived. It would be only another moon before they started raiding the woods for boys. As soon as the leaves were gone, the raids began in earnest. During spring and summer, the boys were pretty well safe unless they were caught scavenging outside the woods. A few boys disappeared each summer, but once the frosts came and the leaves turned yellow and fell, the oldest boys would be in danger. Tarin frowned. It was a puzzle. No boy ever escaped past his eighth woodland summer. And somehow, despite their panicked flight, the older boys all eventually sacrificed themselves so the younger ones could evade the men. He spat out a berry that was mildewed and crammed several in his mouth at once to erase the moldy flavor.

Tarin cracked more nuts and pondered. Mart had been caught last year although he had vowed to never be taken. The nuts sat unchewed and guilty in Tarin’s mouth for a moment, and then he made himself grind them up. He and Mart had been fleeing from the men and they could both have escaped, Tarin was sure, but as soon as Mart saw Tarin was across a creek and into some dense brush, he’d doubled back and led the men astray. He’d even hooted and hollered as he ran. Tarin swallowed the tender nut meat and moaned. He could still remember the men’s triumphant yells as they surrounded Mart and carried him shoulder high and bound out of the woods. Tarin had lain still and watched them march by.

And now he was in his eighth summer in the woods. Was he destined to lead a pack of men away from Cory or some other younger boy?

Continued in First Section