hands in a long line and careering recklessly over the bog in sharp zigs and zags that left those at the end clinging on for dear life. This was the dance—which Dana knew as a game—that brought them to the crossroads.
She hadn’t noticed that they were racing along a road that bordered the bog like a river. It was the signpost that brought her up with a jolt. Having forgotten human things, she was so shocked to see it that she let go of the whip and went flying into a ditch.
Clambering out again, she ran back to the sign.
It pointed in four directions: Dublin to the north, Glendalough to the south, Blessington to the west, Bray to the east. Now she knew where she was. In the Sally Gap. Backtracked for miles! Completely the wrong way! Dismay and despair flooded through her. Her memory returned and, with it, everything she had forgotten as she played: her mission, her missing mother, and her poor abandoned father.
A familiar sound in the distance caught her attention as yellow headlights beamed over the landscape.
The boggles had also spotted the car. With whoops and war cries, the whip cracked back to descend on Dana.
“No, wait!” she pleaded, as little hands clutched hers.
“Stop! Please! ”
Too late, she was part of the line once more as it scurried away, back into the bog.
The Triumph Herald stopped at the crossroads. Gabriel got out and looked around.
“There’s nothing here,” Aradhana called gently from the car.
“I’m sure I saw something,” he muttered.
He stared into the distance. His eyes were bloodshot, his face ravaged. Was he chasing shadows? But what else could he do? Rescue teams were searching the mountains and the police helicopter was out. Yet still no word of her. He was sick with guilt; sicker with worry. She had obviously run away to protest against the move to Canada. What if something terrible happened to her?
He wouldn’t, couldn’t rest until he found her.
But where could she be?
t was well past midnight. The bog lay still under the black dome of the sky and the cold eye of the moon. The silhouette of the mountains shadowed the horizon. Despite the hour, everything seemed strangely bright, tinted with moonlight. Dana lounged with the boggles around the campfire, watching the stars fall. Whenever one dropped from the heavens, they let out an ohhhh or an ahhhh as if they were watching fireworks. Then they would shout: “ What is the stars? What is the stars? ”
Though she joined in with enthusiasm, Dana was also thinking hard. In the lull between games, she had figured it out. By some kind of bog magic, she forgot who she was whenever they played. Only when she took a rest did she return to herself. She wasn’t worried. The boggles didn’t strike her as harmful or malign. But they were sly and mischievous, and she would have to outwit them.
Bird climbed into her lap and offered her a stalk of bog cotton. The tuft of white hair at its tip fluttered like a miniature flag.
“Say ‘for a year and a day I promise to stay,’” he begged her.
She smiled down at the big eyes like molten gold, then met the eager looks of the others around her. They were such funny little things. She really liked them. And there was a sad touch of loneliness in how much they needed her. Lost boys, for sure, homeless and motherless and longing for attention.
The boggles held their breath as she twirled the stalk between her fingers. At last she spoke in a solemn tone:
For a year and a day ,
I promise to stay .
They were about to cheer, when she added quickly:
—No way!
But I promise the night ,
Without a fight ,
If you set me free tomorrow ,
Without tears or sorrow .
Though we say good-bye ,
Our love won’t die .
It was such a friendly rebuff, they couldn’t take offense. Some even applauded. But looks were passed between the older ones and Dana knew they were about to call another game. She would lose any ground she had gained.
“I know what to play!” she said
She hadn’t noticed that they were racing along a road that bordered the bog like a river. It was the signpost that brought her up with a jolt. Having forgotten human things, she was so shocked to see it that she let go of the whip and went flying into a ditch.
Clambering out again, she ran back to the sign.
It pointed in four directions: Dublin to the north, Glendalough to the south, Blessington to the west, Bray to the east. Now she knew where she was. In the Sally Gap. Backtracked for miles! Completely the wrong way! Dismay and despair flooded through her. Her memory returned and, with it, everything she had forgotten as she played: her mission, her missing mother, and her poor abandoned father.
A familiar sound in the distance caught her attention as yellow headlights beamed over the landscape.
The boggles had also spotted the car. With whoops and war cries, the whip cracked back to descend on Dana.
“No, wait!” she pleaded, as little hands clutched hers.
“Stop! Please! ”
Too late, she was part of the line once more as it scurried away, back into the bog.
The Triumph Herald stopped at the crossroads. Gabriel got out and looked around.
“There’s nothing here,” Aradhana called gently from the car.
“I’m sure I saw something,” he muttered.
He stared into the distance. His eyes were bloodshot, his face ravaged. Was he chasing shadows? But what else could he do? Rescue teams were searching the mountains and the police helicopter was out. Yet still no word of her. He was sick with guilt; sicker with worry. She had obviously run away to protest against the move to Canada. What if something terrible happened to her?
He wouldn’t, couldn’t rest until he found her.
But where could she be?
t was well past midnight. The bog lay still under the black dome of the sky and the cold eye of the moon. The silhouette of the mountains shadowed the horizon. Despite the hour, everything seemed strangely bright, tinted with moonlight. Dana lounged with the boggles around the campfire, watching the stars fall. Whenever one dropped from the heavens, they let out an ohhhh or an ahhhh as if they were watching fireworks. Then they would shout: “ What is the stars? What is the stars? ”
Though she joined in with enthusiasm, Dana was also thinking hard. In the lull between games, she had figured it out. By some kind of bog magic, she forgot who she was whenever they played. Only when she took a rest did she return to herself. She wasn’t worried. The boggles didn’t strike her as harmful or malign. But they were sly and mischievous, and she would have to outwit them.
Bird climbed into her lap and offered her a stalk of bog cotton. The tuft of white hair at its tip fluttered like a miniature flag.
“Say ‘for a year and a day I promise to stay,’” he begged her.
She smiled down at the big eyes like molten gold, then met the eager looks of the others around her. They were such funny little things. She really liked them. And there was a sad touch of loneliness in how much they needed her. Lost boys, for sure, homeless and motherless and longing for attention.
The boggles held their breath as she twirled the stalk between her fingers. At last she spoke in a solemn tone:
For a year and a day ,
I promise to stay .
They were about to cheer, when she added quickly:
—No way!
But I promise the night ,
Without a fight ,
If you set me free tomorrow ,
Without tears or sorrow .
Though we say good-bye ,
Our love won’t die .
It was such a friendly rebuff, they couldn’t take offense. Some even applauded. But looks were passed between the older ones and Dana knew they were about to call another game. She would lose any ground she had gained.
“I know what to play!” she said
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