A lean silhouette leaps through the undergrowth with determination and speed. He is backlit by the setting sun, vanishing and reappearing between trees. I recognise my father's mind at once. Distracted by the men and the wolf dog, I hadn't sensed him approaching. He must have come looking for us because he heard the hound's barking. And we have returned by our outbound tracks, making us easy to find. 

'Pa!' Kel shouts. My brother jumps from his hideout, not caring anymore about twisting his ankle or hurting himself. Not caring about anything but getting himself into our father's arms.

Pa scans the forest, blue eyes bright and keen in his rugged face. He takes in the injured dog, the cut on Kel's cheek, the state of me breathless from all the jogging and carrying and shooting. He cannot sense the mind-world but he understands what has happened. I hold up two fingers, showing him "two men". He nods, then hoists his bow onto his shoulder and lifts Kel into his arms, pulls him tight to his chest, one hand stroking the back of my brother's head.

Side by side, with their slim faces, grey-blue eyes and long noses, it is easy to see they are father and son. Kel looks like Pa, and with all that blonde hair and warm yellowy-pink skin, he takes after my mother too. I don't resemble either of my parents. My wide-set oval eyes and flat-bridged snub nose are typical of the Uru Ana. I resemble my mother's mother, who passed down the sight to Kel and I, even though it skipped Ma . 

We abandon the wolf dog and jog back to camp, Kel on Pa's back. My father says nothing as we move swiftly, the air growing chillier with the parting daylight. I can't tell if he's angry, worried or focused on what lies ahead. The next couple of hours - how quickly we can pack up and how far we can get without leaving obvious tracks - are crucial.

I wonder if we should have put the hound out of its misery and what the men will do when they find it injured. My father did not take his knife to the creature and I couldn't bring myself to finish the job. My arrow had pierced its front leg. With proper care it will have a good chance of healing. That was what made me hesitate. And there wasn't time for such indecision, so I had left it.

There is a break in the thicket, a downward slope where our camp nestles behind the high banks of snow we dug out yesterday. Smoke curls towards the sky, suspended in frosty air that preserves footprints, skinned pelt and bone remnants long after those who left them have gone. As the wooden tent poles come into view, pictures shimmer in the mind-world.

Bare feet on warm stone floors. Hot water baths. She lathers oil that smells of summer and hope over her slim, sixteen-year-old calves.

It is the year before my mother met my father. Ma's reminiscing has this annoying way of echoing whatever age I am. Her thoughts break off as she hears our boot steps in the compacted snow. The smell of warm oats hits me and my stomach grumbles. Ma rises from her place by the fire, hairbrush dangling from her wrist. Pa puts Kel down.

'Get your clothes together,' he tells my brother. Kel crosses the clearing towards our sleeping tents. Ma intercepts him with a quick hug, while her eyes watch Pa and I anxiously. My father picks up a large copper pan, scoops snow and douses the fire. The flames suffocate with barely any smoke.

Once Kel has moved inside the skin tent where he and I sleep, Pa turns to me.

'Are they bounty hunters?'

'I don't know.' But if they set eyes on Kel it won't matter. They'll want him.

'How far behind the dog?'

Ma's eyes flit left and right with panic. 

'Ten minutes. Maybe a little more.'

'We leave here in five,' he says.

Pa and I dismantle the tents without another word, unknotting gut skins that secure poles to wooden beams, rolling up furs. Kel bundles his change of thermal underwear around his spinning top and collection of wood-carved monsters and soldiers. Ma tries to help but only gets in the way, so I tell her to go and sort out her jewellery which is what she really wants to do anyway.

Once we've finished with the sleep tents, father and I divide up the storage items. We tie fire drills, hatchets and cooking utensils along with the rolled furs to the wooden frames of our packs. Then I bind a roll of fur and half the fish to the carrying frame I made for Kel last year. Enough food to survive three days out here by himself. He would be without shelter, but if we manage to get far enough north where the snow is deep he could burrow into a snow drift. It is a last resort precaution. One I don't want to think about too much because the nights are still long and freezing. Without the warmth of each other, it would be easy to fall asleep and not wake up.

Five minutes later, everything we can easily leave with is packed. Pa lays a hand on Ma's shoulder.

'Come on, Thyme' he says. 'We have to go now.' My mother nods. She has tied her long blonde hair into a knot and jabbed six pretty pins into it. Three necklaces jangle around her neck as she straps on the pack my father has cobbled together for her. Almost as empty as Kel's. Then she fetches her lute and cradles it against her chest.

I swallow down my annoyance, ignoring the lute as I tie the ropes of my rucksack to my belt and adjust the weight so it's evenly spread. Then I help Kel with his. He wipes streaks of mud and salt tears from his cheeks, gazing up at me, waiting for something.

'OK?' I ask.

He glances back to check Ma and Pa aren't listening. 'Will Pa kill them?' he whispers.

That night, twelve years ago, comes rushing back: Darkness and shadows. A man. Musty, sour breath. Fingers brushing soft fur. Fingers holding a blade. Asmine's father carrying Asmine. Running from the tent. Her arms clasping his neck. Holding on for dear life.

I wasn't there. But I saw it all. Over and over in my father's memories as we travelled east, leaving behind the Sea of Trees, leaving behind my friend and her family to find a deserted place where there were no other Uru Ana, no poachers, no anyone.

'Sorry,' I say, pushing down the past. How much did my brother see? How much has he already seen because of me or Pa? Enough to give him nightmares when he was a baby. 'Try not to think about it.' I pull off Kel's glove, then my own. I entwine our fingers and nestle them into the pouch of my parka. 'No one will take you,' I say. 'Pa and I won't let them.'

***

We hike north. The last rays of the day's sun seep through the spruce trees. It is not even the third hour after high-noon, but above us the sky turns a deep purply-blue and the first stars appear. Lucky for us, the moon is waxing and will not rise for many hours. It will be harder for the hunters to follow in the dark. We are headed towards Jade Sword mountain where we denned for the winter long-sleep. The bitter winds and lack of vegetation make it the last place anyone would want to go. Pa's hoping the men won't track us into the desolate north. That they'll opt for one of our other trails leading east.

The forest thins, spruce trees becoming scraggly and gaunt. My pack grows heavier and I'm starting to sweat. Snow blusters around us as the wind picks up. At first when the men stopped, once for the dog, then again at our camp, we increased our head start. But now they are gaining on us.

I am fairly sure they have not mercy killed the wolf dog though they guard their thoughts closely now. Only the slightest glimmer of memory has reached me since they discovered the hound, which means they suspect we are not fugitives or hunters, but Uru Ana. The one with the mind like a citadel is particularly impressive. I did not know it was possible for a man to conceal himself so well. The hunters who took Asmine had no such skill; they used the mist berry to dull their minds and hide themselves.

'Hey Kel,' I say, 'why don't you walk with Ma? It'll make her feel better.'

My brother's hood is pulled up so his face, apart from his scintillating eyes which gleam in the dark, is all shadow and grey. He gives a little nod and falls back to join Ma. Pa and I slow to let them move ahead.

'They're faster than us,' I tell my father once Kel is holding Ma's hand, the light wind and crunch of snow dampening our words.

'It'll be dark soon.'

'I think they're proper trackers. They haven't paused once at any of the other trails to decide which way we've gone. The dog must be helping them.'

'They won't follow us into the mountains.'

'We're not going to make it to the mountains. They're right behind us.'

My father breaks the rhythm of his stride. 'What are you suggesting?'

'We should hide Ma and Kel and go after them.'

'We're not splitting up.'

I tighten my fingers around the straps of my rucksack and haul the whole thing higher on my shoulders. My back is hot and damp while my hands and feet tingle with the cold. The pack bears down as does my father's gaze. 'They're trying to hide their minds.'

'You've lost them?' His voice cuts the air sharply.

'No. They haven't taken the mist berries. But obviously they'll have figured out there are four of us. They'll know we're travelling with a child and that it is likely from the size of our bootprints that two of us are women. If they didn't suspect what Kel was, why would they be hiding themselves?'

'We can't leave your mother and brother alone.'

'Taking the hunters by surprise is our best chance.'

My father halts. His arm shoots out to catch my wrist.

Thrusting the knife. Blood spurting as it cuts soft skin. Blade jamming against cartilage.

His memory flashes, slamming against my mind's eye. I flinch and twist away. Father's gaze locks on me like the deadly tip of an arrow, but I'm more concerned about Kel. My brother's hand slips from Ma's as he cocks his head. He stops, focusing on the mind-world. As he glances back at us, I realise the images were too rapid to comprehend if you didn't already know what they were. If you hadn't already seen before and afterwards a thousand times. To him they will have registered as something ominous, something bad. I relax a little.

'We came here so that would never happen again,' my father says. 'I hope you never have to kill a man, Mirra. I hope your brother will never have to live with the burden of what you have lived with because of me.'

My cheeks sting with the cold and a mix of shame and defiance. I meet my father's gaze and the desire to fight drains from me. I am not thirsty for blood. I know what saving my childhood friend cost my father. The killings a dark secret he has withheld from my mother. But that is the difference between Ma and I. I understand there was no other way.

'Then we have to move faster,' I say.

I've dedicated this chapter to the Hugh Howey who's an excellent author and inspiration for anyone thinking of self-publishing. 

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