Witch Crag by Kate Cann

through this dense forest.”
    â€œWhat about the smoke?”
    â€œIt’s dusk, it’s misty . . . by the time the smoke’s made its way out through the tree canopy, you’ll hardly see it.”
    There was a pause, then Kita grinned. “Looks like we all agree,” she said. “Let’s camp for the night!”
    Raff, grinning too, moved away from the stream, the girls following. “Here’s good,” he said, kicking away moss and leaves from a level stretch of ground. He found a flat piece of wood and placed it in the middle, then made a nick in it with his knife. Then he pulled his fire-making kit from his belt, looped the wool string on the little bow round the straight stick, and set the stick upright in the nick on the wood. He palmed the stone, fitting it on top of the stick.
    â€œOK,” he said. “Pull up some of that dried grass, there. When you see smoke at the base – feed the heat.”
    He began to saw the little bow back and forth rapidly, and the stick wedged between the wood and the stone whirred.
    Quainy raised her eyebrows at Kita, and they smiled. They weren’t at all sure that this would work but it was enough that Raff was animated and happy, like he’d been years ago, before the bullying had crushed him. He was unfolding – stretching out again. He sawed furiously and the stick whirred.
    Then there was a smell of charred wood, and a wisp of smoke rose. Hastily, Quainy dropped a few strands of dead grass on to it. Raff blew on it, and the tiny burst of flame that followed made them all cheer, then shhhhh each other, laughing. Quainy added more grass, and soon there was a bright blaze. Raff stowed his fire-kit away, saying, “Get some twigs – dry as you can. And wood. This fire is officially alight!”
    â€œWell done, Raff,” breathed Kita, pushing twigs into the flames. “First you protect us from the footsoldiers, then you create fire!”
    â€œProtect? I was cowering!”
    â€œYou had the knife drawn. I saw it. You were ready to fight!” cried Quainy. Then she reached her arm round his neck, and pressed a kiss on to his cheek.
    Raff, blushing, scrambled to his feet. “I’ll get more wood,” he muttered. “Keep the fire fed, won’t you.” And he disappeared into the low-branched trees.
    â€œI think you scared him off, Quainy,” said Kita. “Grabbing him like that!” But she was thinking, he’s never fazed when I get hold of him . She wasn’t sure what she felt about that.
    Raff was gone for quite a while. “What’s he up to?” murmured Quainy, nervously. “There’s plenty of wood right nearby. You don’t think he’s got lost, do you?”
    â€œNo. Maybe he needed to take a dump.”
    â€œCharming,” said Quainy, but she seemed consoled.
    A few minutes later, Raff appeared, and practically swaggered up to the fire. Three pink, raw-looking shapes swung from his left hand.
    Quainy gasped. “Are those—”
    â€œRabbits,” said Raff, proudly. “They’d come to drink on the other side of the stream, further up. I lay in wait and grabbed ’em.”
    â€œThey’re very small,” said Kita.
    â€œThey’re young. That’s how I could catch them. I skinned and gutted them over there so the smell of blood wouldn’t be near our camp. And so you two could bear to eat them. They did look very sweet. Before they died.”
    â€œMonster!” cried Quainy, as Raff, laughing, found a long stick, spitted the three little corpses, and propped them over the fire on some stones.

    As they lay back on their sheepskins on the soft, earthy forest floor and relaxed, firelight flickering across their faces, it seemed incredible that only twenty-four hours ago they’d been at the start of their escape. They felt good – victorious. They’d eluded Arc and they’d drunk as much water