The Battle for Duncragglin (15 page)

Willie slapped the trunk of a large tree with thick spreading branches. “I think this one is right in the middle of our house,” he said.

Craig skipped back out from under the tree. “Careful! Don't stand under the toilet … something might be happening in another dimension.”

“Do you think people in another time or dimension see us as ghosts?” Alex looked up to where the bedroom window would be. “Do you think we might have seen
ourselves
moving about a few nights ago?”

“Let's say hello to ourselves.” Craig jumped up and down and waved his arms.

“Oh, look.” Alex laughed. “Craig's hiding under the bed.”

Willie sauntered behind a cluster of bushes. “I sure hope no one can see us 'cause I need a little privacy right about now.” His head lowered from view.

“Don't use stinging nettle leaves,” Annie called out, “or you'll be sooorrrry.”

They made it to the coast “nae bother,” as Willie put it. A cool sea wind was blowing over the cliffs, flapping their clothes and tossing their hair about. From their high vantage point, they could see far down the winding coastline to where the towers of Duncragglin Castle rose over neighboring rocks.

Annie pushed her hair back from her face. “The tide is too high for us to find our tunnel into the caves.”

“When will it be at its lowest?” Craig winced in anticipation of bad news.

“Could be today, could be weeks from today. There's no way to know till we've watched a few tides come and go.”

“So, what will we do?” Alex asked. “We can't go wandering along the coast in broad daylight. Guards are bound to be patrolling the area.”

“See that point way down there, the one that comes out the farthest?” Annie stood close to Alex and pointed to a distant rocky outcropping. “Over there's a rock slab that sticks up like a lean-to. It's there in our time, so it's got to be there now. We call it Fort McRae. When we're in it, we can see anyone coming for miles.”

“Let's go,” Craig said.

No one needed convincing. They turned away from the castle and trudged along the edge of a high plateau. A sudden movement caught Alex's eye. He turned in time to see a brown hare bound away between tufts of tall windswept grass.

Willie dropped his sack and fumbled with an arrow, but by the time his longbow was pulled, the hare was gone.

“Alex, go left,” he said. “Annie, you and Craig spread out and keep him from escaping. I'll circle 'round to the other side.”

Annie hesitated. “You're not really going to shoot that poor wee thing, are you?”

“Darn right,” Willie said, his eyes bright. “We can't just be eating your dry bread.”

“I packed smoked meat too….” Annie protested, though she knew there was no stopping Willie once he got going.

Keeping his longbow half drawn, Willie crept in a wide arc to where they last saw the hare. Alex tensioned his crossbow and followed suit, circling around the other way. He stepped gently, all the while squinting down the stock of his bow. Opposite, he saw Willie approach, slowly closing in with his bow drawn tight.

Suddenly he caught a glimpse of a brown, floppy-eared head. He aimed and pulled the trigger. The bow twanged and an arrow thudded into a grassy mound next to him.

Alex stared at the arrow, confused. It was pointing in the opposite direction than he had shot from. It was pointing, in fact, at him. He looked up.

“Whoops.” Willie gave a sheepish shrug. “Sorry about that.”

Alex angrily pulled the arrow out of the dirt. “You could've killed me.”

“I know, I know. It was an accident – I said sorry, didn't I?” Willie kicked about in the tall grass. “Did you get him, by the way?”

“How am I supposed to know? At least I didn't get
you.”

Parting clumps of grass, they looked around for Alex's bolt, both with their bows ready. Alex was careful to stay within arm's reach of Willie's bow. He hoped he would not have to finish off a wounded hare.

Alex wearily sat on a grassy knoll. “I give up. That bolt could be anywhere. Besides, I've got plenty more.”

“Over here! Look!” Willie waved excitedly. “A rabbit hole. Perhaps he's in there.”

Alex got down on his knees and peered into the dark opening. “Great. What do we do now? Crawl in after him?”

Willie sat back on a mound. “We wait. He's got to come out sometime. We can hide behind the tall grass and get him when he sticks his head out.”

“That might take a long time.” Alex sighed.

“It's what hunting is all about,” Willie said. “Sometimes it takes hunters all day to make a single kill.”

“But we haven't got all day. Anyway, don't they have a back door to their burrows?”

“Of course!” Willie twisted. He froze, eyes wide. Only thirty feet away was the big brown hare, up on its hind legs, watching them.

Very, very slowly, Alex raised his crossbow. Both sights along the stock lined up against the brown furry shape, and he ever so gently squeezed the trigger. Feeling the bow recoil, he saw neither bolt nor hare.

“You've got him!” Willie shrieked, leaping over to where the hare had sat watching.

Alex rose slowly, reluctant to see what he had done. “Is he dead?”

“I think so.” Willie looked down into the tall grass. He lowered his bow and prodded something with his foot.

A brown form lay on its side, its hind leg twitching. Alex was horrified to see that it was still alive and suffering. He
fumbled to put another bolt into his crossbow, but before he could get it tensioned and ready to fire off another shot, the twitches became slower and less frequent. They stopped. He heard swishing noises in the grass from Annie and Craig running up behind him.

“Brilliant,” Craig roared. “What a shot! Right through the middle.”

“The hare doesn't think it's so brilliant,” Annie noted dryly.

Willie gave it a nudge. “Take a look. The hare does not think. In case you haven't noticed, it's dead.”

Annie stared sadly at the hare's black lifeless eyes. “I hope it doesn't have any babies to look after,” she said.

“If it does, they need to look after themselves now,” Willie retorted. “That's life.”

“No, it is not.” Annie glared fiercely at Willie. “That's death. There's a big difference.”

“Save it.” Willie wriggled the bolt out of the hare and handed it to Alex. “That's simply the way it is. The only thing you need think about now is dinner.”

Imagining a bowlful of steaming hot, chunky rabbit stew made Alex realize how hungry he was. He told himself there was no reason to feel guilty. And who was Annie to be critical? He would rather have lived the short life of that rabbit than be one of the animals on the McRae farm, left to stand in its own poop for most of its life.

He wiped the bolt against the grass, purposely leaving some blood on the shaft. He wanted to recognize it as his lucky bolt so he could pick it next time they were hunting.

It was a good-sized hare. Willie tied its hind feet together and used the same rope to sling it over his shoulder. The hare's dangling front paws slapped the tops of Willie's legs as he walked.

A
nnie looked out over the rocky point and marveled how little had changed. “If you're a rock, seven hundred years is just a blink in history,” she said.

Willie bent and picked up a stick. “Let's collect some firewood to take with us,” he suggested. “That way, we won't have to come back out.”

Alex raked around for dry bits of kindling. A thought occurred to him. “Do you have anything to light this with, Annie?”

“Don't you?” Annie suddenly looked concerned.

Willie glanced back and forth between them. “Having raw rabbit was not what I had in mind,” he said nervously. “Please tell me we have something to light a fire.”

“I think so,” Alex said, looking doubtfully at his handful of dry moss, leaves, and dead pine needles. “But … it will take some doing.”

They piled twigs and branches into each others' arms so high that it blocked their view. Staggering and stumbling
all the way to the rocky point, they gratefully dropped their armloads into a single large heap.

Alex straightened and had a look around. Tall rock formations cast long shadows down to the water's edge. Behind him loomed a huge slab, one end sticking up high enough to offer shelter. Annie ducked under it and pulled a blanket from her sack.

“Aren't you worried it might fall?” Alex asked.

“I used to be,” Annie said, “especially when Willie's friends would climb up top and jump while we were under it, but not anymore.”

“Why not?”

“Well, if it's still standing over seven hundred years from now, it can't very well fall on us now, can it?”

Alex felt silly. “I guess that's true.” He sighed and slung down his sack. “I will sleep better knowing that.” He held out his hand. “Can I have your dagger please, Craig?”

Craig hesitated and Alex wiggled his fingers.

“Cm on, let's go. I need it to make a fire starter. We've got to hurry if we're to get a fire going before sundown.”

Craig watched as Alex painstakingly whittled bark off a curved stick and attached a sack drawstring to each end.

Willie stopped to watch, tilting his head skeptically. “How's that supposed to work?”

“Easy. We spin a stick with this bow until the bottom gets really hot and ignites.”

“You've done this before?”

“No … but it can't be that hard. I saw them do this at an Aboriginal village once.”

Willie rolled his eyes and Alex angrily threw down his
sticks. “Do you think I'm doing all this for fun? Do you have a better idea?”

“Flint.”

“Flint. Oh, why didn't
I
think of that?” Alex mockingly slapped the side of his head. “You idiot, teeny tiny sparks aren't going to light a fire! Don't waste your time.”

“This
is the waste of time. Cm on, Annie, let's find some flint. There's sure to be some along the shore.” Willie stomped away.

“I bet I'll start a fire before you do,” Alex called after him.

Willie turned. “You're on. The loser has to be a slave for a whole day.”

“Deal!”

“You'll be fetching my food, slave.”

Alex quickly got to work. He pressed down on the stick while twirling it back and forth with the bow. The bottom emitted a rhythmic squeak.

He heard a
clink, clink
off to one side. Willie was smacking two rocks together over a handful of dry moss.

“Careful you don't get your fingers caught,” Alex sang out merrily.

Willie mumbled something and gave his rocks an extra-hard bash. One landed in his little pile of dried moss and scattered it about.

Alex choked back a laugh. “Have you ever done this before?”

Furious, Willie reassembled his moss, turned his back, and renewed his efforts. Craig and Annie burst into a fit of giggling.

Willie raised a fist. “Watch it!”

“
Ooh
/i
,
I'm scared.” Alex giggled. “Annie, save me.”

Willie hunched over his pile of moss with his rocks. Sparks flew and he bent to puff gently onto the moss.

Worried, Alex tried to make the bow move faster. The string kept slipping, so he made a new knot. Again, it slipped. Fumbling another attempt to tie it tighter, he flung the bow away.

Annie picked it up. “Let me try.” She picked apart the tangled bundle of overtied string and reattached it with a simple loop knot.

Alex tried again, vigorously pulling and pushing on the bow. Craig helped by pressing down on the top with another stick. The twirling stick hummed, its rounded end rubbing a smooth dent into the base.

Willie took up a new technique, smashing a large rock down on a smaller one. Bigger sparks flew, but none made any lasting impression.

Alex's arms ached. He pressed on and on until, with one extrahard push, the fire-stick slipped and clattered to the ground. He put his finger to the dent it had made in the wood, quickly pulling back. “It's hot!” he exclaimed.

Excited, Annie knelt opposite Craig to help him hold the stick. Alex worked the bow again, sweat trickling down his face.

“Give me that.” Willie suddenly caught the end of the moving bow.

Alex looked up, alarmed.

“I didn't have the right kind of rocks,” Willie mumbled, his eyes averted.

Working together, they made the stick twirl faster.

Fascinated, they watched as a small blackened ring of sawdust formed around its base.

“Do you smell something?” Annie sniffed hopefully.

“That was just me,” Willie retorted gruffly. “Pay it no mind.”

“No, I smell something burning.”

“Smoke!” Craig burst out gleefully.

“It's working!” Willie put on an extra burst of speed. The base of the stick emitted an unmistakable gray hint of smoke.

“Don't … ease … up,” Alex panted, his arms feeling like they were about to fall off.

The sawdust flared and died. Annie sprinkled shavings. There was another flare-up. Tiny flames flickered and the shavings became a red glow. They watched breathlessly as more ignited. Never before had such tiny flames brought them such joy.

“We did it! We did it!” Craig jumped up and down.

They sprinkled larger and larger shavings on the flames, followed by twigs propped over the growing fire. Before they knew it, they were all dancing madly around flames, which shot up as high as their shoulders.