The Impossible Journey by Gloria Whelan

Author:Gloria Whelan
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: HarperCollins

CHAPTER EIGHT

THE RIVER

It was midday when we came to the swamp where the road left the river.

“Look, Marya!” Georgi turned an excited face to mine.

The puddles and pools of the swamp were crowded with birds. There among the reeds and rushes were ducks with brilliant green feathers and ducks with red crests and ducks as black and white as a printed piece of paper. There were geese and long-legged cranes, and here and there stately swans with arched necks. It was as if all the cages in the world had been opened. As soon as one flight of birds landed, another took off. The geese were busy cropping the new grasses while the ducks turned tail up to search the ponds for fish. I would have given anything for the paints I’d had to leave behind.

Georgi and I stood still, holding hands as if we were afraid that in all that soaring, one or the other of us might find ourselves in the sky with the birds. At last we left the swamp to follow the road to the village. The road led though a dark forest filled with cedar trees and another kind of tree whose name I didn’t know but whose needles were soft as feathers. At each turn I was afraid we would bump into Old Savoff and Vadim, but we had the road to ourselves. When we heard the dogs bark, we knew we were near the village.

In the distance we could see a row of is bas, the little wooden houses of Siberia. “Hurry,” I urged Georgi, pulling him along. “We have to get by the village quickly before Old Savoff sees us.”

We had passed the road that led into the village, and I thought we were safe, when a pack of snarling dogs came after us. In the distance a man looked curiously in our direction.

We were surrounded by the dogs. They were ragged, half-starved beasts that looked like anything would do for a meal, including us. Georgi clung to me. I was sure the villagers would hear the commotion and investigate. Hastily I emptied the bag of bones, scattering them on the ground. While the dogs lunged at them, we made our escape.

The road began to climb. Georgi begged, “Marya, I’m tired. Let’s stop and rest.”

“We can’t, Georgi. We have to get as far from the village as we can. Besides, if we don’t walk fifteen miles each day, we won’t reach Mama until after the winter starts and we’ll freeze to death.”

The idea of freezing to death did not quiet him for long. “I don’t care if I freeze to death. You can just melt me when the summer comes.”

“Don’t joke about something so serious, Georgi.” I tried again to tell him how cold it would be when summer ended. When I saw he wouldn’t listen, I said, “Georgi, you know all the famous explorers Papa taught us about? Genghis Khan and Marco Polo and Christopher Columbus and all the rest?”

Georgi nodded his head, more interested in the explorers than in talk of his freezing to death.

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