am a fast runner.”
“So am I,” said Sofia, tipping her chin up. “A kiss for luck?”
But Peter was in no mood to play her games.
Sofia moved to the shuttered window, her hand raised, waiting till she saw Radu move away.
“Oh!” she whispered. “He’s finished!”
“Then it’s time to go!”
Peter ran at the door and jumped, hitting it squarely with both boots near the lock. The wood was in fact quite thin; splinters flew in all directions, and the door smashed open with a loud crack.
Peter landed in the snow amid the wreckage of the door, and scrambled to his feet. He heard footsteps immediately behind him and for a second thought it was Radu, but Sofia passed him in an instant, flinging a few grains of millet as she went.
“Come!” was all she had time to yell, and Peter followed.
Within a few strides he had caught her, and grabbed her hand, pulling her on. He threw a glance behind. What he saw made his limbs want to seize and stop, but he forced himself to run. Hardly more than a breath behind them, Radu followed, lurching through the snow.
Sofia flung another handful of seed, which struck Radu in the face. He howled, hurling himself to the ground, scrabbling to pick it all up.
Now at last they put some distance between themselves and their pursuer. They did not dare slow down, and sickeningly, as Peter looked back once more, he could see Radu closing on them again with shocking speed. If he could run that fast, Peter thought, what in the name of God was his strength like?
Fleetingly, Peter wondered how they would be any safer in his father’s hut than in the one they had left, but they were running too hard to gasp a single word to each other, and Peter decided that if they could reach the hut, he could perhaps get to one of their axes before Radu got to them. And his father? Maybe he could help them. Was there really a sword in that box? If what Sofia said about him was true…
Even as he ran, Peter knew that was ludicrous. His father was a drunkard, who must have malingered his way through his years under King Michael. He was no use.
Sofia shouted at him.
Stop shouting, Peter thought. Just run! He bounded a few more paces through the trees before realizing what she had said.
“It’s all gone!”
They were on their own now, with only their legs to keep them from harm. Radu groped in the snow, then stood. He had all the seeds.
Sofia shrieked and, for a few steps, overtook Peter.
“There!” he shouted. “The hut!”
Had he turned he would have seen Radu close behind, his hands clawing out toward them, inches away.
A dozen more paces would see them over the bridge. But Radu was on them. Seeing that Sofia was the easier target, Radu flung himself at her. Sensing the attack, she dodged to the side, but she had misjudged her distance from the river itself, and the bank gave way under her foot.
She slipped and tumbled into the water with an almighty splash.
Peter stopped, only feet from the bridge. He hesitated, seeing Radu standing on the bank, looking at Sofia in the water. Then Radu spun around and saw Peter, and made for him.
“Go!” shouted Sofia from the water. The current was taking her the wrong way, away from the hut and the island on which it stood, but she seemed to be swimming toward the island.
Peter didn’t need telling twice.
He ran over the bridge, screaming.
“Father! Father! Wake up!”
Peter made the hut, not daring once to look back, desperate to find his axe; but as he burst through the door, it suddenly occurred to him that he had heard no footsteps on the bridge behind him.
He turned in the doorway, and saw Radu on the far side of the bridge, shaking his fists at him but making no effort to cross. Peter watched, confused and relieved in equal measure, as Sofia reached the island.
“Help me out!” she called to Peter, angrily.
He ran over to her and, wrapping his hands around her wrists, pulled her in one long motion from the water and up the
“So am I,” said Sofia, tipping her chin up. “A kiss for luck?”
But Peter was in no mood to play her games.
Sofia moved to the shuttered window, her hand raised, waiting till she saw Radu move away.
“Oh!” she whispered. “He’s finished!”
“Then it’s time to go!”
Peter ran at the door and jumped, hitting it squarely with both boots near the lock. The wood was in fact quite thin; splinters flew in all directions, and the door smashed open with a loud crack.
Peter landed in the snow amid the wreckage of the door, and scrambled to his feet. He heard footsteps immediately behind him and for a second thought it was Radu, but Sofia passed him in an instant, flinging a few grains of millet as she went.
“Come!” was all she had time to yell, and Peter followed.
Within a few strides he had caught her, and grabbed her hand, pulling her on. He threw a glance behind. What he saw made his limbs want to seize and stop, but he forced himself to run. Hardly more than a breath behind them, Radu followed, lurching through the snow.
Sofia flung another handful of seed, which struck Radu in the face. He howled, hurling himself to the ground, scrabbling to pick it all up.
Now at last they put some distance between themselves and their pursuer. They did not dare slow down, and sickeningly, as Peter looked back once more, he could see Radu closing on them again with shocking speed. If he could run that fast, Peter thought, what in the name of God was his strength like?
Fleetingly, Peter wondered how they would be any safer in his father’s hut than in the one they had left, but they were running too hard to gasp a single word to each other, and Peter decided that if they could reach the hut, he could perhaps get to one of their axes before Radu got to them. And his father? Maybe he could help them. Was there really a sword in that box? If what Sofia said about him was true…
Even as he ran, Peter knew that was ludicrous. His father was a drunkard, who must have malingered his way through his years under King Michael. He was no use.
Sofia shouted at him.
Stop shouting, Peter thought. Just run! He bounded a few more paces through the trees before realizing what she had said.
“It’s all gone!”
They were on their own now, with only their legs to keep them from harm. Radu groped in the snow, then stood. He had all the seeds.
Sofia shrieked and, for a few steps, overtook Peter.
“There!” he shouted. “The hut!”
Had he turned he would have seen Radu close behind, his hands clawing out toward them, inches away.
A dozen more paces would see them over the bridge. But Radu was on them. Seeing that Sofia was the easier target, Radu flung himself at her. Sensing the attack, she dodged to the side, but she had misjudged her distance from the river itself, and the bank gave way under her foot.
She slipped and tumbled into the water with an almighty splash.
Peter stopped, only feet from the bridge. He hesitated, seeing Radu standing on the bank, looking at Sofia in the water. Then Radu spun around and saw Peter, and made for him.
“Go!” shouted Sofia from the water. The current was taking her the wrong way, away from the hut and the island on which it stood, but she seemed to be swimming toward the island.
Peter didn’t need telling twice.
He ran over the bridge, screaming.
“Father! Father! Wake up!”
Peter made the hut, not daring once to look back, desperate to find his axe; but as he burst through the door, it suddenly occurred to him that he had heard no footsteps on the bridge behind him.
He turned in the doorway, and saw Radu on the far side of the bridge, shaking his fists at him but making no effort to cross. Peter watched, confused and relieved in equal measure, as Sofia reached the island.
“Help me out!” she called to Peter, angrily.
He ran over to her and, wrapping his hands around her wrists, pulled her in one long motion from the water and up the
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