The Pack Read Online Free PDF Page A

then?”
    â€œThe dogs,” said Floris. “Tell us about the dogs again!”
    The Old Woman pulled an old box beneath her and rested her elbows on her thighs. She had worked her miracle again and when she craned forward, she could sweep her head between each of the children, her face sometimes in darkness, but for the amber spark of her eyes, and at others lit red by the burning brazier.
    The story was for Floris first, so it was to the twin-headed body of Floris and Victor that she began to speak.
    *   *   *
    â€œFar from here, across the Forbidden Territories, beyond the Invisible City, there is a road that travels north. It passes between fields that are green with potatoes, with turnip heads and carrots; fields that have plump cattle and sheep nibbling on their juicy grass. Once these fields were for everyone—for the villages that are nearby and for the cities too. Now, as you know, very little passes the Invisible City, the city you must never see.
    â€œThe road travels north, till the farmland runs out and the road becomes a dirt track, dusty in the summer, muddy and impassable in winter. It goes on like this for mile upon mile, while tall firs thicken around it, and if you’re lucky, a deer may cross before your eyes, silently, in a great bounding leap.” And here the Old Woman’s hand curved before them. There was no other world now but the one unfolding before them. Victor’s eyes glowed with the freedom and the space this story was conjuring in his mind.
    â€œOr,” the Old Woman continued, “you may see the fat shadow of an owl skim the tops of the forest; the tips of its huge firs a smoky blue. But you’re not finished yet. For when the track runs out, there is a small path, trodden by rabbits and deer, that leads you through the darkness of the forest a little way, till you come to a wide lake shore.
    â€œYou have been so closed in by the firs for so long, the openness of the lake, the light of the water, the vastness of the sky—all make you feel as if you’ve lost some weight you’ve been carrying with you. And it’s true, for it’s time to rest.
    â€œYou take off whatever bundle you’ve been carrying and pick the early spring strawberries that grow there, each the size of the smallest glowing coal. They are so sweet, you roll them in your mouth, crush them with your tongue. Try one…”
    The Old Woman passed her cupped hand between the three children. Bradley and Floris took a strawberry each and placed it in their mouths. Victor looked from one to the other and frowned.
    â€œGo on, take one,” said the Old Woman.
    â€œWhat is … a strawberry?” asked Victor.
    â€œThe sweetest, most delicious thing you can think of,” said the Old Woman, and Victor jabbed his hand into the Old Woman’s palm and sucked in the imaginary strawberry from his fingertips. He closed his eyes briefly, the better to taste it, and Floris smiled at his seriousness.
    â€œEnough,” the Old Woman said, “it will be dark soon and you still have a way to go. To the left of a sandy cove you will see a bush arching over the water. The bush is covered with bright red berries, but you must not eat these, even though the strawberries may be white and green with unripeness and these berries say, Try me, just one, you must not. It is the purpose of this bush to tempt you.
    â€œLift a few of its branches up and you will find a small rowing boat. Yes”—she nodded—“you would all fit in. Pull the boat from under the bush and get in. Take turns in rowing, because it is a big lake to cross. Save a handful of strawberries for the journey.
    â€œYou will be rowing quickly to escape the darkness; already the lake is fringed with black. There is a small island you must pass where two herons live, birds with long necks and sharp bills, like these…” The Old Woman snapped her fingers at each