Hedge of Thorns: Setting Out
It’s time to lash the blind to my pack. When I’m certain it’s secure, I crouch, and shrug the pack straps over my shoulders. Stepping out the door, I survey the scorched ridge. Smoke drifts upward, but I can’t pick out open flame.
My leather shirt is still draped over the wheelbarrow.
Dew has left it clammy, triggering an involuntary shudder at the idea of putting the garment on. Nothing obvious crawls along the seams. A vigorous shake sends moisture flying into the kale bed.
If the early morning warmth builds, the leather will dry. I lash it to the upper end of the bundled blind, believing I’m ready to go.
“Mercy,” Tumble calls from the doorway before I lift the gate latch.
I turn back. He’s holding out the notes and the box of .22 ammo.
“You’ll need something to trade, to send the messages.”
“Yes. You won’t need it for your weapon?” I stuff the items in my pack.
“No, I prefer a .38. Figured they’d be decent trade goods.”
“Okay. Keep a low profile while I’m away.”
#
The gate latch is loud, and a rabbit rustles away through the undergrowth. East to Iron Creek is the most sensible direction to find white willow bark. If I can find unclaimed trees, the harvest is light and compact.
Several hours’ hiking brings me within earshot of running water. I edge downhill, to where the creek trickles eastward. Tall stands of willow saplings are thick along a sunny stretch of the bank. I examine the leaves. Silvery, perfect.
With growth this rank, I could thin out some larger diameter trunks, and strip them from end to end.
Bent low, I pull my tactical knife from the scabbard and set to work. The young, soft wood offers little resistance to the blade’s saw teeth. I pull the sapling toward the bank, and ease it down with a minimum of rustling.
One, or two? Gauging the trunk’s diameter against the size of my palm, two would be wiser. I shift the yard or so it takes to reach a similar one. The forest noises are all quite ordinary, until I make the first cut.
Then downstream, there’s a splash, followed by a foraging bear’s whuff. I saw harder, faster, until the trunk gives with a crack. I yank it down, and stand tall, spreading my arms. The willows block my view.
Quickly, I pull out the Sig Sauer, its clip full of hollow point ammunition. Effective against a bear? If it comes through the willow break, I’ll fire as many rounds as I can.
Splashing nearer, the animal is close enough to smell. I hold my breath, and listen to the animal’s jaws champ on some vegetation along the bank. I use its distraction to drag the saplings upslope and into semi-concealment.
When I can see the far bank, I pause and look back. The trail of shed willow leaves might make someone think a beaver family lost its sense of direction.
Hedge of Thorns: Setting Out is an episode of a serialized short story that posts on Friday.
Check the menu on this blog for other, previously posted serialized stories, here.
Ruth
Heidi Kortman
Krystine Kercher
Heidi Kortman