The Dogs and the Wolves Read Online Free PDF Page B

was daybreak. Or, even better, pitch dark, in the middle of the night, while everyone was asleep. From every house, the children emerged, barefoot so as not to make any noise, and each carrying a lantern (that was the most important thing), hidden under their coats to dim the light. They gathered together somewhere beyond the village, and set off. They walked more quickly than their old, heavy parents, of course. Even if they wanted to catch up to them, it would be impossible. Ada could picture every one of them: children from her neighbourhood, from the town, from all over Russia, slender, supple shadows, huddled together, bedding down in a dark forest or beside the riverbanks. They would walk for a long time, for weeks, months if necessary, before finally arriving in the land that awaited them, wherever that might be, but she felt as if she could see it. There were wild animals so they could enjoy hunting, and enemies for when they played at war, and dry earth so they could have the satisfaction of working and building something.
    ‘What should we call it, Ben?’
    But they could never agree on a name.
    ‘What if they send the police to find us?’
    ‘Why should they? Do you think anyone would miss us?’
    ‘Well, you remember when that little Rose, the tailor’s daughter, died last year, how her mother cried . . .’
    ‘But she was dead, you silly; we’ll be very much alive, we will!’
    ‘But what if they get angry because we ran off without their permission and send the police to bring us back?’
    Ben’s eyes sparkled. ‘The Emperor’s children will be with us. The police will surely obey them!’
    ‘You think that the Emperor’s children will come with us?’
    ‘Of course. They’re children just like us. Don’t you think they’d like to be free, to build houses, and buy and sell things in shops?’
    Day after day, the game became more embellished with details and new adventures. The children would have uniforms, medals, books they’d written, streets, laws.
    ‘But who would be in charge?’
    They glanced furtively at each other: the little boy lying on his back, his sheet and the grey woollen shawl he used as a blanket pulled up to his chin; the little girl sitting up against her pillow, leaning on one elbow. All she could see of Ben was the tip of his quivering nose, long and thin, half hidden by his dark curls. Impatiently, she tugged on her brown fringe; her lips were dry from the fever, her cheeks scarlet. She wore a short day dress and one of Lilla’s old cardigans. The sleeves were too long and you could see her bare, thin arms twitching. She didn’t own any night-dresses; it seemed perfectly natural to spend money on clothing people would see, but not on things they wouldn’t. She gestured quickly, decisively.
    ‘Neither of us would be in charge, because we could only ever be equals. If we were in charge, we’d have two governments and we’d be at war.’
    ‘Well, why couldn’t we both be in charge?’ asked Ben. ‘You could command the girls and me the boys.’
    ‘But we’d have to have one supreme leader to decide who was the winner, you fool!’
    ‘Once we’d well and truly beaten you, we wouldn’t need anyone to decide who the winner was!’
    ‘But while the war was going on,’ cried Ada, totally overexcited, ‘while we were fighting, who would be in charge? To look after . . .’She made a vague gesture. ‘The others . . . the ones who didn’t want to fight . . .’
    ‘Well, who do you suggest?’ said Ben, defiantly.
    Ada lowered her eyes and said softly: ‘Harry Sinner.’
    Just speaking his name made her heart ache. She’d kept her secret for a long time: six months had passed since the moment she had first laid eyes on him, and she hadn’t seen him again. But she had never forgotten him, and to say his name out loud made him suddenly appear, between Ben and her, in their shabby room.
    Ben sniggered: ‘Why him?’
    ‘Why? He’s bigger than you,’ she