Shadows in the Tree by Jennifer DeBruin

Author:Jennifer DeBruin
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: FIC014000 FIC040000 FIC045000 FICTION / Historical / Alternative History / Family Sagas
Publisher: General Store Publishing House
Published: 2014-01-20T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 20

My disposition is not so armoured in the need for strength and fortitude this day. I falter in focusing on why we journey, and am burdened by the misery of a steady, biting rain that has drenched us these three days. As though signalling the end of the hope spring generally brings, low, grey skies hang upon us and to the horizon as far as one can see before entering the forest once again. It has been a shock to feel the piercing cold at night, and though the sun appears from time to time, it cannot penetrate the chill we feel to our bones. The dimness of the forest makes the day seem as night, and though hints of green appear upon the trees, their leaves do not yet provide reprieve from this incessant rain.

Mr. VanAllen shows himself to be harsh. Even as we struggle with the slick mud that hinders our progress, he will not ease his pace and often threatens to leave us to the mercies of what may exist here in these untamed places. My skirt, heavy with wet and filth, makes the task of carrying my Jacob arduous. Small and unknowing, he often struggles to be let down to walk. I must keep him ever entertained, for he might begin to cry, should I not do so. With strict warning, Mr. VanAllen tells me the children bring the threat of a gruesome, untimely death, and that should I want to survive to see my husband again, I would do well to “control the lot.” He has not spared Mathias and Ruby the details, and when we speak, they look at me with terror in their eyes. I, as their beloved Mama, should provide reassurance, but do not, instead allowing this man’s words to set upon them as a way to spare them what he has warned. It is a most disturbing thought that my children should know of such things; that they should shiver with cold, whimper with hunger, and fall into a restless sleep not knowing if they would wake to dark forces setting upon them. Our miserable existence now, I pray, will be made a fair price for the life we will find in the king’s lands.

Our days, spent in silent drudgery, see my new friend Elizabeth endeavour, as I do, to entertain her little one. One night, before we settle into our makeshift shelter, she shows me how the children might weave grasses along the way, which “keeps little hands and minds occupied in silent work.” She seems so much more prepared for this journey than I. Any preparation of goods and supplies I had attempted would have been of ill use for what I could not have imagined was to be ahead of us. Abandoned, and yet resting upon the floor of our house — should our house still stand — the bundle is but a memory of my naïveté and inexperience.

I wonder if our neighbours have come into our house and been affected, as I am in its memory, by the emptiness of a once vibrant home.

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