Night Wings by Joseph Bruchac Page B

next to the tree where we were tied. We’ve left the little piece of metal that Grampa Peter used to pick the lock still in place in the key slot.
    “Run, Grampa!” I hiss in a harsh whisper that is plenty loud enough to be heard. Then I take a few clumsy steps and deliberately fall on the ground the way someone would who’s been tied for a long time and whose legs are half asleep and whose hands are duct-taped together.
    “What!” The yell from Field’s tent tells me he’s heard just what I wanted him to hear. He pokes his head outside in time to see me get back to my feet and start running awkwardly toward the trail down the hill, my hands held up in front of me as if they were still secured by tape.
    I don’t have to look back to see what is going on behind me: Field staring at the place where we both were tied, seeing the picked lock. The other three come out of their tents, Tip stumbling, Louise as lithe as a panther, and Stazialready fully dressed with his boots on his feet and the look of a hunter in his eyes. I am out of their sight and running for real now, vaulting over rocks, scooting around boulders, but I am not too far away to hear Field’s bellow.
    “Get them!”
    And then the sound of thudding feet in pursuit.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Trip
    I could lose them if I wanted to. They’re not used to running in the mountains, and I’ve been doing this my whole life. But leaving them behind is the last thing I want to do now. I have to keep them following me.
    I’m far enough ahead to risk looking back. It’s not the blocked trail that we took to get up here, nor is it the one that they’d planned to follow toward Small Lake of the Clouds. That’s the trail Grampa Peter is on now, hoping that no one will come after him on it soon enough to catch up. The trail that I’m on leads down into the gorge where the brook cuts through and there’s a spectacular waterslide ending in a deep pool. If they’re able to follow me that far, I have a plan—sort of.
    I make sure I am visible from below and that I am sitting holding my wrists together as if they were still connected by the tape. I also put an exhausted and discouraged look on my face. The first one to come into sight is Stazi. Of course he notices me right away. His eyes are scanning back and forth, up and down, trying not to miss anything. That is not good.
    I make like I can’t see him and that I’ve sort of fallen down exhausted. Out of the corner of my eye I see him nod and then disappear out of sight. He’ll reach the place where I am soon. I can’t wait here much longer. But I want to see if the other two are still on my trail.
    A voice drifts up from down below. “Hurry up.” There’s such cold command in Louise’s tone that I wonder why she’s content to take orders from Field.
    “I’m goin’ as fast as I can,” Tip complains.
    Although Stazi is out of sight from me, he must be where he can hear or see them because he calls down to Louise.
    “Only der boy,” he shouts. “Der old man must have gone anudder vay.”
    “I’ll go back and tell Darby,” Louise calls up to him. “You and Tip get the kid.”
    Only two of them after me now. But that’senough. Sounds of feet scrabbling on the rocks of the trail are too close for comfort. I jump up and start running again.
    Downhill the trail cuts into a valley where layers of soil have been trapped and there’s enough shelter from the wind for some trees to grow. The path goes between two of those trees, cedars as thick as a man’s forearm. I leap high as I pass between them, fly a good eighteen feet through the air, and land to take a few stumbling steps and fall down so that I’m on my side and looking back over my shoulder.
    Stazi is closer than I thought he’d be. Less than twenty yards behind me, he’s seen my leap and he slows to a walk, stops before he gets to the cedars. He looks down at the bicycle cable that had been used to tether Grampa Peter and me to the tree. Takes