Chapter 8-Of Treetops and Sunshine
He jogged on to the fields. There were meadows, which he'd spent many days of his childhood in. He thought of this and found himself longing for those days. Days when he didn't have to worry, days when the worst his sisters could do was tell his father about how he'd gone apple scrumping with his friend, days before he'd seen war and sadness.
He reached the Tree. His tree. The one he'd always climbed when he didn't want to be found. The one which had two perfectly spaced, hard-to-reach perches, one for Merry, one for him. He climbed it now. 'I'm not hiding, I'm not, I'm not, I'm not. I just don't want to be found.'
He sat up there to eat his breakfast. He watched the sun climb in the sky, and thought about things. About what was missing, and why he wasn't happy, and possibly why the pasty he was eating was the manky two-week old one instead of the fresh-baked one he thought he'd picked up.. He left it for the birds to eat, balanced on another branch. He sighed, and looked at he sun. It must be time to go back now. He stuffed what was left into the bag and swung it over his shoulder. He swung his legs round the right way and dropped out of the tree...
He jogged on to the fields. There were meadows, which he'd spent many days of his childhood in. He thought of this and found himself longing for those days. Days when he didn't have to worry, days when the worst his sisters could do was tell his father about how he'd gone apple scrumping with his friend, days before he'd seen war and sadness.
He reached the Tree. His tree. The one he'd always climbed when he didn't want to be found. The one which had two perfectly spaced, hard-to-reach perches, one for Merry, one for him. He climbed it now. 'I'm not hiding, I'm not, I'm not, I'm not. I just don't want to be found.'
He sat up there to eat his breakfast. He watched the sun climb in the sky, and thought about things. About what was missing, and why he wasn't happy, and possibly why the pasty he was eating was the manky two-week old one instead of the fresh-baked one he thought he'd picked up.. He left it for the birds to eat, balanced on another branch. He sighed, and looked at he sun. It must be time to go back now. He stuffed what was left into the bag and swung it over his shoulder. He swung his legs round the right way and dropped out of the tree...