When Dragons Came Chapter 7: Finding the Way

By the time I crawled my way back out to the mouth of the cave, I wanted to give up.

How was I ever going to get down to the river path before morning, let alone make my way past the village with its infestation of soldiers?

Right now, with evening approaching, mist gathered in hollows and at the bases of trees. I knew it would be thick in the river bottom as well, allowing me to sneak past the village in the night.

If I could move.

I told myself not to be such a baby, that I’d walked these woods and these paths hundreds of times, that I’d come the other direction (up hill!) only this morning.

It was enough to make me scramble out of the cave, dragging my walking stick behind me (and apologizing, once again, to the spider, as I broke through the new skimpier web she’d spun while I was inside.)

Apparently unperturbed, the spider cast herself across the opening to make a new anchor line. Before I’d recovered enough to push myself to my feet, her web had once again begun to take shape.

I could be like the spider.

I would not give up.

But my exhausted stumble down to the river path took three, maybe four, times as long as it normally would, and my exhaustion was such that I found myself a handy boulder to sit on and recover. At this rate, I’d barely make the near side of the village by daybreak, assuming I could walk all night with only brief breaks.

What a great recipe for getting caught!

I needed to make some kind of forward movement, though. When looking at the map back in the vault, I’d estimated that I’d need to average more than twenty miles a day of travel to make it to Windy Harbor in time. That meant quickly making it past my village and onto the next one, where I hoped to hire some kind of cart—or a boat.

Didn’t Khan and Lark have a boat? I’m sure I’d seen them fishing from a little canoe-like craft with sails.

I’d never asked where they kept it, but it had to be close to the river. Nobody wanted to portage even a small boat across giant fields.

I looked up and down the riverbank in the late evening light, but mist shrouded everything. Besides, Rilla had told me she ad the other older children often hid things like boats to keep their baby siblings from trying things too dangerous for them.

“Lord, help me,” I whispered.

As with my earlier plea for help, an immediate response came. Down by the river, wind picked up some creeping vines, and the setting sun glinted off something metal underneath them.

Something useful lay in that spot. I pushed myself to my feet and stumbled toward it, whispering, “thank you,” as I went.

Clearing away the vines revealed the boat I’d remembered Khan and Lark fishing from—as near as I could tell from its upside-down form. It also revealed the chain and padlock that tethered the boat to an iron ring bolted deep in the rock above it.

My key, of course, did not work in this lock, but judicious application of one of my hairpins opened it.

After recovering enough strength, I rolled the boat over, dragged it and its gear down to the riverside, gingerly settled myself, the gear, and my pack into it, and then, with all my remaining strength, pushed myself away from the shore, out into the current.

I hoped I didn’t encounter any obstacles, because the mist was thick enough, I wasn’t sure I’d see them in time. Even if I did see them, I didn’t know if I’d be able to lift the paddle again to steer for some time.

For now, exhausted, I let the current take me, and thanked the Creator for showing me the path (and for sending Rilla to teach me forbidden skills like reading and swimming.)

Underneath the thanks, I had questions, though. Why had my prayers been answered, but not Rilla’s or her family’s? They were good people who loved the Creator as much as I did, maybe more.

Why hadn’t he heard their cries when the dragon and its fire overtook them?