The Lost Boy

Part V. Home Sweet Home

The next morning Vera readied herself for a farewell to Peeku, for now that he knew his family was no more, why not end his difficult journey? The young lord would grant him permanent residence in the great house, of that she was certain. But Peeku held her hand and said:

"You are a dear friend to Peeku now. We have seen so much of the world together. And because we are friends, your purpose is now Peeku's purpose. Peeku shall accompany you, if you will permit it."

Tears welled in Vera's eyes, for she was overcome with gratitude to have a companion for the long journey ahead. And Peeku had heard of a city where it perpetually rained: it was called Sitka, far in the north past the tribal lands, where strange colors danced in the sky and the narwhals met at their ancestral breeding ground.

Their travel was slow moving without their mares. They ventured always north, through barren forests where birch trees touched the heavens with skeletal fingers and the streams were crusted over by ice as thick as bricks. At night they huddled together to fend off the cold, but the meager warmth of their campfires did little to permeate their bones.

Vera could not say how long they traveled. Time was a curious thing while on the road: the minutes trickled by sluggishly, but the days blended together at an alarming rate, as if they were pages in a flipbook. She marked the passage of time by the length of her hair—when she had left her small town it was by her shoulders, and now it fell well below her waist.

After many weeks they arrived at a frozen lake with several houses off in the distance. They agreed Vera would go in search of provisions, while Peeku, wary of towns, would make camp in the surrounding forest. As Vera neared the little village, she encountered a young girl selling roasted chestnuts by the side of the road. The girl wore a clean smock with roses embroidered on the collar. The smell of the chestnuts made Vera's stomach growl, for their travel had recently taken them through hard terrain and Vera had eaten nothing but dandelion greens for days.

"Ahoy, traveler," the girl greeted her.

"Your chestnuts smell heavenly," Vera replied sadly, thinking of their dwindling funds. "But alas, I cannot afford such an indulgence."

The girl smiled demurely and began scooping chestnuts into a paper bag. "None the matter. You look famished."

She handed over the bag and Vera thanked her dearly. Vera popped one of the still-warm chestnuts into her mouth and it tasted divine. As Vera munched on a second, the girl asked:

"For how long have you been on the road?"

"I cannot say," Vera replied.

"A long time then. Where are you going?"

"Sitka," Vera said. "The city where it always rains."

"Ah, you are not far from there. By foot it is only a few days' travel, that way yonder past the pine barrens," the girl said, pointing north.

They spoke about this and that as Vera ate several more of the chestnuts, saving a few for Peeku. When Vera made to bid her farewell, the girl proclaimed:

"Oh, but you must stay a little while longer! Your travels look as if they have shown you much difficulty, and my family would be delighted to share a home-cooked meal."

Vera thought of Peeku waiting for her in the forest. But the girl spoke the truth—her feet had painful bunions from her time on the road, and Peeku could manage a few more hours.

"Only if it is not too much a bother," Vera began.

But the girl interrupted her with a laugh: "Certainly I would not have invited you if I did not truly mean it!"