Dan Smith - The Child Thief

‘We need to find our things,’ I said, standing. ‘You two wait here.’

I didn’t give them time to object. I took the revolver from my satchel and stuffed it into my coat pocket before breaking a solid stick, half my height, from the pile of firewood. I put the satchel in the snow where I’d leaned my rifle against a birch and walked through the trees to the place where they formed a line along the edge of the field. It was dark, the sky still clouded, but the snow brightened the open ground. My silhouette would stand out, but I kept low, hoping it would be enough, knowing that if the man was still watching, his telescopic lens would be unable to take in enough light. I was invisible to him now.

I moved down to the place we’d escaped from earlier, where everything was now under a thick covering of snow, and began poking the stick into the soft undulations. I pushed hard, moving from side to side, searching for our packs, and within a few moments the end of the branch touched something solid but with a little give in it. This was not frozen soil but something else, so I knelt down to brush the snow aside.

This wasn’t where I had left my pack. This was the place where Dimitri had died.

I squatted and cleared away the fresh snow, revealing a patch of dark cloth, moving my fingers around the edge until I made out Dimitri’s shoulder.

I paused for a moment, imagining him lying beneath the covering, his face frozen in that expression of fear and confusion and begging. I heard the ripple of his dying sounds in my mind, shook them away, and continued to dig. I knew I could let nothing go to waste; nothing useful should be left behind.

I followed the line of Dimitri’s leg until his feet were uncovered, digging down and lifting them in turn, pulling off his boots and socks. I stuffed the socks into the boots, tied the laces and then strung them around my neck so they fell against my chest. With that done, I removed Dimitri’s coat, wrestling with his frozen limbs, before I reburied him and stood up.

Dimitri would stay there until spring, hidden just below the surface, but when the temperature rose and the snow melted, he would thaw and lie in the open, by the forest which would be freshly adorned with leaves and new life. And then something would find him and make him its meal.

I intended there to be one more body to join him.

Continuing to search, I found all of our belongings before going back to the trees, looking for the vague glow of the fire. The windbreak I’d made had done its job well, and the fire pit helped to keep the flames hidden from sight as well as from the wind. It was hard to spot anything, even this close.

When I came back to the fire, both Viktor and Petro were pointing their rifles in my direction. Viktor kneeling behind a fallen tree, Petro standing close to the trunk of another, the barrel of his rifle resting on a low branch. Shadow cast from the flames flickered across his shape.

‘It’s only me,’ I said, feeling a touch of pride that they’d thought to take up a defensive position. They had been alert to the sounds in the forest, and that was a good sign. Despite everything that had happened, they were still thinking. I was certain they would make it home without me.

My sons came back to the fire as I rummaged through the packs, making some things more accessible than others, ensuring I had everything I’d need. The situation had changed now; my priorities were different. Before, there had been three of us to carry everything, but now there would be only me. And when we left the village this morning we were just following tracks, chasing a thief. But now the thief had turned on us and I saw his intention was not as I’d first thought. There were some items I’d need to have close to hand.

‘Let us come,’ Viktor said as I finished packing the bag.

‘Don’t make me talk about this again.’ I checked the red nine pistol was loaded, and put it into my satchel. I closed the top and fastened the buckle.

‘I’m not planning on taking too long,’ I said. ‘I’il be over the fields in no time, pick up his trail in the woods as soon as it’s light. I’ll be fine. And if the sky clears, and I can see the tracks at night, it’ll be easier for me to follow if I’m alone.’ If I could, I would go on in the dark, as I had failed to do the previous night. There was a chance the child thief would do as he had done before – find a place to rest – and if that were so, I might discover him as he slept and be able put an end to this hunt.

‘And if it is too dark to go on?’ Petro said. ‘Where will you sleep? What will you eat?’

‘I have wire, I can make a snare. I’ll find tracks and catch something. I have enough guns to shoot something – I’m a hunter for God’s sake. And anyway, how will it be any easier if you come? Will I be less hungry? Less tired?’

Petro didn’t answer. He didn’t even shake his head.

‘Please,’ I said. ‘Do as I ask. Go home to your mother. Tell your sister I’ll bring her cousin back soon.’

‘And Dimitri?’ Viktor asked. ‘What do we tell them about him?’

I stared down at my feet and thought about Svetlana. I couldn’t ask my sons to carry that news. ‘Tell them he’s still with me.’

‘What about his coat? And his boots? You want us to leave them?’

‘No,’ I sighed, ‘they’re too valuable.’

‘So how do we explain—’

‘Petro will do it,’ I said, looking up at my youngest. ‘I want you to tell Mama what happened. She’ll speak to Svetlana.’

Petro didn’t ask why I had chosen him.

I stared after my sons as they left the small circle of light and walked into the darkness with their reluctance and their annoyance clear in their eyes. I watched the place where the night had taken them and I warmed myself one last time by the flames before I kicked snow into the pit and suffocated the fire. It flickered and fought to survive, hissing and spitting, but it quickly succumbed to the snow and gave up the last of its light and warmth.

I threw the pack over my back, kept my satchel close to my side and took up my rifle before moving away in the other direction. Once again I stepped out onto the open field and headed across the steppe.

I had a fix on the place I wanted to go. I remembered the direction of the tracks and I remembered the place where the man had run into the trees. The sky was without stars, but the field was white enough to collect just enough light for me to know where I was going.

I tried to be aware of the land around me, of movement and sound, but I had to concentrate just to put one foot in front of the other. The snow was deeper now, and the rise and fall of the land beneath it was invisible. I stumbled a few times, but kept on going until I reached the hedge. I had only travelled a few hundred metres, but it felt longer and I was beginning to sweat beneath my clothes. As a younger man, I could have crossed that distance in half the time and hardly felt it in my chest and legs, but years and circumstance had slowed me.

Pausing at the hedge, I allowed my heartrate to return to normal, giving my body a moment to rest. I didn’t want to sweat, to dampen my clothes with moisture that would freeze and steal my warmth. I stood and looked out at the wood beyond, seeing nothing but the trees and the darkness. Dariya was out there somewhere. Alive or dead, I had no way of knowing.

As I moved along the line of the hedge, looking for a way to pass through, I imagined the man with the rifle doing the same. I pictured him dragging Dariya with him, perhaps tied, or maybe she followed him because she had nowhere else to go, or because he had tempted her with some kind of promise. And it struck me that the child was now dependent on the thief. The kidnapper had provided shelter and warmth, perhaps even food, and without those things Dariya would die in that wilderness. She was now reliant on the child thief to keep her alive and protect her. She was damned if she remained with him, and damned if she managed to escape. I was her only hope.