The warmth of the day was fading fast by the time Papa left the Eichenwalds to make camp. I was tempted to follow him, to see Matthias again and Mama and Hermine, but Thea was yawning into her elbow and I was unaccustomed to spending evenings away from her side. I sat cross-legged on the ground and watched while she and her mother lit a fire with the slow-burning fungus and constructed a shelter. Friedrich took advantage of the remaining light to make his own assessment of their land.
‘How long will it take us to build a proper home?’ Thea asked, carefully storing their belongings in the narrow cleft of a fallen tree trunk.
Anna Maria stepped back from the slanting framework of intertwined branches. ‘I think we might pull it apart and start again once we have collected the rest of our luggage from the ridge,’ she said, looking at it doubtfully. ‘Cut some saplings and dig them into the ground, like others have done. Go cut some of that grass,’ she said, handing Thea a scythe blade. ‘I’ll plug the gaps.’ She looked up at the clear sky. ‘It feels cold now. Doesn’t it feel cold?’
‘Mama?’
‘I don’t know, Thea. There are more important things to attend to for now.’
‘Crops.’
Anna Maria nodded towards the bagged wheat seed the surveyor had given them. ‘What will alleviate the debt.’
Friedrich returned, his face satisfied. ‘We’ve good access to the creek,’ he said, throwing an armful of gathered sticks on the fire. He squinted in the smoke as flames began to crackle through the leaves. ‘Heinrich is right. The water and soil are good.’
‘Are you happy, Papa?’ asked Thea, handing kangaroo grass to Anna Maria.
‘Happy? Yes. I think so.’ He suddenly turned away from his wife and daughter, working his jaw.
Thea placed the scythe on the ground and wrapped her arms around his waist.
‘It’s good to be here,’ Friedrich said finally. He covered her hands, tight around his stomach, with his own. ‘After everything that has happened . . .’ He opened his mouth to say more, but the words seemed to stick in his throat and he could do no more than gasp, ‘Yes. Praise God.’
That night, Thea did not sleep. Although she closed her eyes, I could tell that she was awake, and when she finally crawled quietly out of the shelter, I followed her. It was a clear night. A moon, yellow as a dog’s tooth, rose above the black silhouette of bush on the rise of land beyond the valley.
I could see Thea’s breath as vapour. I lifted my fingers to it.
‘Hanne,’ she said, looking out towards the moon, arms crossed over her body against the chill, ‘we would have been neighbours.’
To our left, well within sight, was the small glow of my family’s fire.
‘I am burning down,’ she whispered. ‘I am burning down.’
There was the sound of a stick cracking. Thea startled. I saw a figure in the shadows.
‘Who’s there?’
‘Sorry. Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.’
‘Who is it?’
‘Hans Pasche.’
‘Oh.’ The fear went out of Thea’s voice as Hans stepped forwards, taking off his hat. ‘What are you doing here?’
Hans gestured towards the allotment bordering the other side. ‘We’re neighbours, you know.’
Thea peered past him to where another campfire could be seen, flames sending sparks into the night.
‘There?’
‘Ja. It’s good to see you arrived safely. Are all your things here?’
‘Not yet. It might take us a few weeks or so to fetch them.’
Hans nodded. ‘So. What are you doing, wandering around in the dark? I heard you talking to yourself.’
‘What? No. I couldn’t sleep. I’m not the one loitering.’
‘Loitering?’ Hans feigned offence. He picked up a stick and poked the ash of the Eichenwalds’ fire, revealing bright fragments of ember. He cleared his throat. ‘Have you seen my cat?’
Thea raised her eyebrows.
Hans blew on the coals. They flared orange, illuminating his face as he smiled up at her. ‘You know, black. White patch on her tail. The one the sailor from the Kristi gave to me. She’s not left my side since.’ He narrowed his eyes in mock suspicion. ‘Then you arrive and she disappears.’
‘You think I stole your cat?’
Hans lowered his voice. ‘Don’t all witches need a cat?’ He paused. ‘Christiana Radtke might have mentioned a certain book she saw given to you.’
Thea said nothing. I saw fear twinge through her body.
Hans rose to his feet, hand outstretched. ‘Don’t worry,’ he whispered. ‘Your secret is safe with me.’ He threw the stick on the fire and watched it smoulder. ‘So long as you give me the cat back, I won’t tell Flügel about your book.’
Thea glanced back at the dark hut where her parents lay sleeping.
Hans laughed. ‘Look at you. You think I’m serious.’
Thea stared at him. ‘I don’t know what to think.’
‘You think I’d care about anything Christiana Radtke said?’
‘I have no idea what you think about Christiana Radtke.’
‘Not much,’ said Hans. He placed his hat back on his head. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to tease . . .’
‘People are saying things?’
‘Oh.’ Hans shrugged. ‘You know the Radtkes.’
‘No.’ Thea shook her head. ‘No, I don’t. They have never been friendly to my family.’
Hans hesitated. ‘You shouldn’t worry. Pastor Flügel has welcomed you into this congregation. He is the authority here.’
‘My mother is not a witch.’ Thea paused. ‘Nor am I.’
‘I know.’ Hans’s voice was gentle. ‘Well, would you let me know if you see her? She did run off this way. But then I found you instead.’
‘Yes, well. Sorry to disappoint you.’
Hans smiled and I was struck by the warmth in his face. ‘I’m not disappointed,’ he said.
Thea nodded and, without saying goodnight, returned to the shelter.
Hans remained by the dying fire, looking at the place Thea had been, then slowly turned and walked off into the dark, looking back every few steps as though he expected to see her still standing there, wrapped in firelight, all uncertainty.
The moon was a hanging gallstone. Salt water trickled out of my nostrils and down my chin.