Dan Smith - The Child Thief

‘And?’

‘And maybe she tried to get away. See these?’ I pointed. ‘It looks like she tried to run back.’

‘She got away from him?’

‘He caught up with her.’

Dimitri grimaced and looked away. He twisted around, searching in every direction. ‘You sure? Maybe she’s here somewhere. Maybe she’s hiding. We should check.’ He started to move away from them.

‘She didn’t get away,’ I stopped him. ‘They left here together, both of them walking. Look, you can see.’ I pointed at the trail beyond the place where the snow was most disturbed. I knew that Dimitri could see it – all of us could – but I understood Dimitri’s desperation and I knew I would have had to control myself if it was Lara who had been stolen.

‘But it means she’s still alive?’ Viktor asked.

‘Yes. It means she’s still alive.’ Or at least, I thought, she was still alive when this happened. ‘Come on, let’s keep going.’

As we continued to walk, Petro came alongside me. ‘This is too easy, isn’t it?’

‘Hm?’

‘Why wouldn’t he try to hide his tracks? You think there’s more to this?’

I was surprised to hear Petro asking the question, not Viktor. I thought it was Viktor who was most suited to hunting, but I could see that Petro looked at a situation in a different way. He thought more deeply and, in his mind, he had extended our situation to anticipate what might be ahead, rather than only what we could see.

I looked down at the footprints in the snow. These were messier now, not so crisp. These were Dariya’s footprints, stepped in by larger feet, the two sets of marks disturbing each other, fighting for room. ‘How would he hide them out here?’ I asked. ‘He could try to disguise them, I suppose, try to mislead us, but it would take time. No, he knew we wouldn’t follow at night so he took his chances.’ And for a second I felt a stab of regret that we hadn’t come out in the dark.

‘Do you think, if you’d come last night, you would’ve caught up with him?’ Petro asked.

I was shocked by the question. It was as if he had read my thoughts.

‘I don’t mean you should have,’ Petro said. ‘I just mean… if you had.’

‘I don’t know.’ I glanced back at Dimitri, who was walking in front of Viktor. ‘I don’t know.’

But I knew the man had been carrying the weight of a child for some time and would have been tired. We would have been fresh and free to move quickly. Perhaps when the man had stopped here, and Dariya attempted to escape, perhaps then I might have been there for her, to scoop her into my arms and take her home. I clenched my teeth and experienced a loose feeling inside when I considered I might have made a wrong decision. But I pushed the thought away. I could think only of what was and what would be. We would find Dariya alive and we would take her home.

‘No,’ I said. ‘It was the right decision not to look for her in the dark.’

With those words repeating in my mind, we moved on in silence as the sun rose higher, casting itself through the trees so it lay ahead of us, skimming the white land and dazzling us. I kept my head down, and told the others to do the same, but the light was harsh and began to blur my vision, so I looked for a shaded spot and we stopped for long enough to dig down to the soil.

We warmed and moistened the dirt, rubbing it on the skin around our eyes before pulling our hats and scarves back over our faces. We all knew that men could be blinded by the sun’s, reflection on the snow, their eyes burned sightless, so the dirt and coverings would give us some protection. As a soldier I had learned to cut slits in birch bark and wear it like a mask, but we didn’t have time to look for the right tree nor to construct masks from its skin, so for now the coarse dirt would be enough.

And with the earth drying and hardening on our faces, we moved on, following the tracks which carried on before us. The large prints, with the section missing from the right foot; the smaller prints that scuffed alongside them, the stride of their maker too short to clear the surface of the snow with each step.

The density of the forest tightened and expanded so that in some places we could walk only in single file: me at the head of the line, followed by Dimitri, his breath heavy and regular, his footfall clumsy. It was in such an area, three or four hours after we had begun our journey, in a place where the hornbeam grew close, that the tracks took a sharp turn to the left, striking into a place where the trees grew thick and tight.

I removed one glove and pulled the revolver from my pocket, raising my other hand, looking back and putting a finger to my mouth.

‘What is it?’ Dimitri asked, coming close.

‘You see that?’ I pointed to a place where the ground swelled in an unnatural way, as if something large had been lying there when the snow fell, leaving a distended bulge.

‘What is it? Is someone there?’

‘Let’s have a look.’

The shelter was crude but I knew it would have provided cover and warmth. It was a mound of snow, brought together in a patch where the trees were just wide enough apart to take its size. It wasn’t large, and would be almost invisible if it weren’t for the tracks that led to it and around it.

‘He made this?’ Dimitri asked.

‘I think so.’

I walked around the shelter, seeing how well it had been put together. ‘It’s good,’ I said. ‘Strong.’ I’d made shelters like it before, collecting snow into a mound and hollowing it out to make a space to sleep in, away from the cold. Whoever had built this one had even built a low breaker in front of the opening, to stop the wind from coming in. I looked in, seeing the ventilation hole in the top and the compacted snow where someone had slept.

I lay on my stomach and dragged myself inside, searching for anything that might be left behind, turning onto my back and spotting something stuck to the uneven ceiling. I picked off the long black hair that was stuck to the snow, the end hanging like the thread of a spider’s web.

‘How long would it take to make this?’ Dimitri asked.

‘It’s not big,’ I said, turning onto my stomach and pushing myself out. ‘An hour maybe. The snow should be left to harden, stop it from collapsing, but…’ I stood up and shrugged. ‘He would have been in a hurry; perhaps he would’ve taken a risk.’

‘Over here, Papa. A fire, I think.’

I went over to where Viktor was standing, kicking at a place where the snow had been disturbed. There was blackened wood beneath.

‘He had to keep warm,’ I said. ‘Eat something.’ As I spoke, I looked up at Dimitri. What we had both seen on the sled was now in our minds, the way the girl’s flesh had been cut, and I wished I hadn’t said anything about eating. ‘She’s safe,’ I said. ‘I know it. Look.’ I held up the single hair.

‘Is that Dariya’s?’ Dimitri asked, coming closer.

‘Unless we’re looking for someone else with long black hair,’ Viktor said.

I waved a hand to silence him, let him know he’d spoken out of turn. ‘And this man knows how to survive out here,’ I said. ‘He kept her safe last night. He built a fire and a shelter. She’s alive and we’ll find her.’

Dimitri took the hair between his finger and thumb. ‘It’s hers. I know it.’ He removed one glove and touched the hair with his own skin. ‘I know it.’ He snapped his head up to look at me. ‘We should go; come on.’

‘Wait. Let me—’

‘Wait?’ said Dimitri. ‘We haven’t got time to wait.’

‘Another minute,’ I said. ‘Let me look for any more signs.’

‘Like what?’ Dimitri put the hair in his pocket and pulled his glove back on. ‘What kind of signs? There are the prints.’ He pointed. ‘Let’s go.’