Goldentracks

Chapter Eleven

When the cottage became visible, Una was surprised to find she felt some anxiety mixed into her relief at seeing it again. "How do we know it's safe for me to go in," she whispered to Zurburt.

With his usual muffled croak, he shifted a bit in her hand and said, "The men have all gone back to town."

Accelerating her pace, Una arrived at the back door of the cottage. She set Zurburt down, pulled on the door's latch, and turned to see the toad had stayed where she'd left him. "Aren't you coming in? If you could tell me more about what's going on, I think I'd feel much better."

There was a pause before Zurburt said, "knowing more will not lead you to worry less."

"Fine," mumbled Una, "I'll see you tomorrow then." Not waiting for his response, or lack thereof, she turned and closed the door behind her.

*      *      *

Sabrina neared her temporary shelter a few hours before dusk. She approached it cautiously. Once inside the den, she instantly went to her small travel bag. It was where she kept her treasures. A couple of them were stolen objects, but the most prized of her possessions was a keepsake from her father's study. Running low on rushlights, she took the tubular case from her bag then exited the shelter. She opened it slowly, unscrewing the watertight cap on the end. She hadn't looked at it in a long time. With some trepidation, Sabrina let the scroll slide out. Carefully unfurling it onto her lap, she gazed at the delicate ink painting. The image had always made her feel a slight sense of awe. Holding the scroll in her hands and looking at the painting immediately brought back warm memories of her father's study. It had been full of objects from the places he'd been and places he'd wanted to see. It was a man's study, and yet she loved the room for its wealth of real and imagined treasures.

She took a deep breath and let it out with a shaky sigh of longing. For a brief moment, she'd forgotten her surroundings. Sabrina had even forgotten the scroll she still held. But now that the memories of her father and her old life had resurfaced, she found that she couldn't bear to feel them anymore. Forcing herself to look at the scroll again, she pondered at its worth. To her, it was an invaluable treasure for sentimental reasons. However, she also knew the scroll was an important object in and of itself, even if she didn't know its actual worth to the outside world.

The few lines of writing were undecipherable to all the scholars to whom her father had shown them, and Sabrina knew the scroll was important to them as well. Its appeal came from its mysteriousness. The undecipherable writing was one thing, but even the object's exact provenance was up for debate. The only thing the scholars seemed to agree on was that the scroll was rare and precious. It was composed of many layers of fine paper and silk all glued together with painstaking care. As she immersed herself in the observation of every wash and line that made up the painting, she marvelled again at the feeling it gave her—that of looking through a window. Sabrina admired the depiction of a small bird poised to take flight on the branch of a fruit tree. And when her eyes focused on a particular corner of the painting, she could almost feel the light breeze moving through the leaves. It seemed as though at any moment the scene before her, so beautifully painted, would come to life. Of course, it never did. But part of what made the image so intriguing was the feeling that there was something fleeting happening that your senses couldn't quite grasp, like a mirage or some movement on the very edge of one's peripheral vision.

Sabrina let the series of layered emotions flutter in her heart. She lingered in the bitter-sweet moment, delaying the heartache that invariably followed these viewing sessions. Too soon the warm memories would be replaced by cold hard facts. The past would give way to the present and she would be alone again. Sabrina closed her eyes and let her head fall back against the earth wall of the shelter as she tried to recall what little she had heard about the scroll.