Hedge of Thorns: Objectives My most urgent task, find white willows that someone else isn’t already harvesting for bark. Hiking due east, a likely location could be along Iron Creek. Likely, and dangerous. Bobby had been heading that way to hunt, when he never returned. The residents of Glenoma and Randle believe the area harbors
Hedge of Thorns: Expedition Prep He takes over that task, as I get out my knife to smooth the edges of my joinery. With the pieces slotted together, I assemble the drill for the next finicky step. “Here goes…” I hold my breath and crank the handle around, boring a hole through the assembly. I
Hedge of Thorns: Crafting Tumble propels the rocker across the floor with fierce pushes, grabs up the empty bucket, and returns. I trade the bloodied snag with its caught hairs, for the bucket, step backward out the door, and close it behind me. For the second time today, I tap into the rain barrel. Blood
Hedge of Thorns: Canes “That’s good, Tumble. Try bending your knee.” His face contorts, but he manages to swing his foot a few inches. “It hurts like…” Rather than continue speaking, he shakes his head and bends the injured joint repeatedly. “Thanks for waking me, can’t let this stiffen up.” I make a mental estimate
Hedge of Thorns: Assessments Tumble’s sluggish response is sufficient for me to know the back of his knee has no wound. The thermometer droops, and standing, I take it. 100 degrees. Not ideal, but not an unredeemable disaster, if he’s dosed generously with willow tea. In the meantime, I bind Tumble’s knee with the wet
Hedge of Thorns: First Aid I part the leaves with more caution, and glimpse speckled fur. A sodden, annoyed bobcat kitten glares at me with arched spine. The effect of its threat is immediately destroyed by a kitten sneeze. “It’s not my fault your mama didn’t come back for you, cat. You don’t look much
Hedge of Thorns: Improvising Tumble empties the cider glass in two gulps. No sense in revealing I have a large stash of hard cider, because my supply of bark is limited. “With the broken ribs I suspect you have, lying down would be both miserable and foolish. It’s the wrong season for ice, so you’re
Hedge of Thorns: Dose Fire flicker and lamp glow illuminate the sweat drops dotting his skull as he yanks zippers open and stacks items on the table. Jerky, needles, scissors, buttons, thread and a darning egg, wadded up socks, elastic bandages, a flannel shirt—none of them things I don’t have—and finally, from its depths, four
Hedge of Thorns: Negotiation “Where did you come from, and why?” Instead of answering, Tumble leans forward, opens the zipper encircling the knee of his cargo pants, and exposes a joint swelling to the size of a small pumpkin. Panting, he sits upright again.“Carmel, California.” “That hasn’t drifted off into the ocean?” “Not yet. I’m
Hedge of Thorns: Maneuvering “If you’re in a mood to stay dry, and get what medical help I know how to give, get yourself through my front door.” I walk away, only glancing back when I hear scuffling behind me. Burdened under a pack and a cylindrical container, he’s crawling on his hands and one