While you eat jam and butter
The recruiting pitch succeeded, at first, in attracting a few young Wood Cows to listen curiously. But soon parents called their young ones back. “Don’t you go listening to that hogwash peddler!” one scolded. “Keep your ears clean of that trash flim-flamer!” another parent hissed. “He’s a lying shill, he is! Why, that Milky Joe is nothing more than a slaver—hanging around troubled folk, trying to snare unsuspecting idiots and kids. Babbling against the King and talk of riches will always suck in a few down on their luck or looking for adventure. But it’s a pit of hell—mark my words!”
Helga winced as another comment reached her ears “Yah, he’s got twenty-seven rings alright, iron ones that go right around your neck! Why else do you think he can scoff at the King right under the noses of those Hedge Blades? He just signs you up, and sells you right off to the King’s own bloodsuckers!”
The touch of cold iron seemed, for a moment, to be palpable on Helga’s neck. She shuddered. Unease trickled through her heart. She’d heard stories about Milky Joe, but they had always before been almost fanciful—a “boogy beast” sort of tale. She’d never thought of him as being real, but now that he was sitting just a few feet away, she felt a deep sense of dread. It was as if she knew Milky Joe was deeply evil, but at the same time, could not remember exactly what she knew. The chill passing through her was not fear, but a confused feeling that she had seen the white wolf with pink eyes before...heard his booming voice...knew him from somewhere...
“You can’t stay here, weevils!”
The inspections dragged on into the afternoon. Little by little the line of wagons and carts shortened. Being one of the last in line, Breister and Helga took time to shift gear and baggage to better balance their load.
On top of the load was Helga’s favorite family possession—the Root Teaching—a collection of Wood Cow wisdom that embodied their philosophy of life. Helga, like every Wood Cow, had her favorites:
Tossing crickets in another beast’s drink does not make a friend.
Throwing knives in the dark rarely fixes a problem.
A beast who sees for herself is not a slave to what she is told.
Justice considers small beasts before big plans.
Listen where others say there is nothing to hear, and learn.
Knowledge is bread, wisdom is coffee, and work is fire.
In the happy times before Helbara went missing amidst Wrackshee slavers ten years before, Helga’s mother had read the Root Teaching to her and Emil every night. They also talked about how the Teaching applied in this or that situation. Helga missed those wonderful times. With Emil also now lost, and the entire Wood Cow clan scattered to the winds, for Helga, the Root Teaching seemed to hold the sense of her family together.
After this precious belonging in importance, were essential practical items: fishing line and the flicker-pole. The fishing line served both to catch fish for food, and as a weapon for defense. In the hands of a skilled Wood Cow, the line weighted with a stone sinker could immobilize an attacker in a massive tangle. The flicker-pole’s flexible strength made it a very useful tool and weapon also. The most versatile tools they would have on the journey, the Wood Cows could wield both with power and skill.
Following this, several precious items of household furniture: the chest, lovingly handmade by her mother, that held the family’s woodworking tools; Breister’s reading rocker and Helga’s carving table; the woodshop tables and benches; the kitchen stools and breadbox; the clothes cabinets...and so on.
And, of course, the food: sacks of dried, pounded fish; baskets of pine nuts; dried apples and pears; rosehips for making tea; pouches of honey nut butter; and chunks of course, leathery trout jerky.
Uniquely among the exiles, Helga and Breister did not have a cart or wagon. Instead, they pulled a homemade boat behind them on a sled. A great river was said to be just beyond the Hedgewall to the east. Old stories told of a time when the Hedgeland folk had eaten fish from a great eastern river, said to be within a day’s walk. If they could make the river, they hoped to sail into the unknown lands toward the rising sun. Bad Bone’s intelligence about routes to the east had given them even more hope.