When a seven-year-old boy, who is an only child cut off from other children, learns there is another child the same age as him living less than a day’s walk away, he will do anything to find her. It’s a magnetic attraction that children understand, just as lovers do.
But a whole month went by before the big day.
4
Elisha
Toby got himself well and truly lost that day. He didn’t just wander off course the way he usually did: a bit of a detour here, around in a pointless loop there, three steps forwards, two steps back…
“The Low Branches, my son, are full of dead ends and endless knots!” said his father, who wouldn’t even risk going past the end of his garden.
Toby usually got lost at least ten times a day in the maze of creepers, on the bark mountains and in the grey moss forests, but he was also developing an astonishing sense of direction. So, on this particular day, it took him several hours to realise how serious the situation actually was.
An unhappy rule applies to the walker who gets lost:
1) When you’re lost, you walk more quickly
2) so each step takes you further away from home
3) so you get even more lost.
After four or five hours Toby stopped, out of breath, sweating, hardly able to tell up from down.
He sized up the situation, which he should have done hours before. No doubt about it, he was in trouble. Night was about to fall, his parents didn’t know where he was, and in any case his father couldn’t have gone ten centimetres beyond his home without slipping in a puddle or falling down a hole. Old Tornett was pretty much paralysed by his rheumatism. Plok never left his grubs. In short, things were not looking good. Toby couldn’t rely on anyone coming to his rescue.
He was all alone in the world, I’m done for… he thought to himself.
Toby sat down on a big branch. He started by wringing out his socks, which was his way of keeping calm and getting his bearings. Wet socks muddle your mind and dampen your spirits.
He squeezed his socks in his hands and watched the murky trickle of water they produced. He noticed that the water fell into a crack in the bark and then carried on its way a bit further. He put his socks back on, focusing on where the dribble of water was leading.
He wasn’t thinking about anything else now. He got up and, one step at a time, like a dreamer, followed the newly formed stream.
A tiny tuft of grey moss was floating like a boat on the eddy. Toby stared at it hard.
Other tributaries joined the sock water and Toby had to walk more quickly to follow his grey moss boat gliding along the gigantic branch. He had become a child again, in his moment of fear. He’d stopped being the resourceful lad who was treated like a grown-up. Instead, he was a real seven-year-old. He was saved by the happy-go-lucky playfulness of his age.
The gutter water formed a stream, and Toby had to run to keep up with it. His heart pounding, he climbed over the splinters of wood that barred his way, and skirted round the stalks of dead leaves. Focusing on his little boat, he didn’t notice the water pouring over the edge a short way off. He rushed down the bark slope and would have thrown himself over with the tuft of moss, if a little bud hadn’t tripped him up just in time.
Head first, he plummeted his full height of one millimetre, his body dangling in thin air.
“I’m really done for now!” he whispered.
His life was hanging by a thread. Only his foot attached to the sticky spring bud was stopping him from falling.
Then came the most terrifying sensation. He could feel his sock slipping. Socks are always trouble. While his shoe stayed firmly stuck to the bud, Toby was sliding towards the void.
The void? Toby dared to look at the precipice below. There was something strange about that dark mass. In places, he could see intriguing blueish reflections. He was exhausted and dizzy, so it took him a few moments to realise what the void looked like.
A hundred footsteps below, in the middle of an enormous battered branch, was a vast lake.
A lake hanging in the middle of the Tree. It was like a miracle.
A branch must have broken off and left a big hole in the bark where a clear-water lake now glinted. Tall moss thickets grew close to the shore, and Toby could even see beaches of white bark, and perfect coves where he would like to have put up his tent.
The stream cascaded into the lake in a breathtaking waterfall that made the clear water foam and bubble. A fine place for his sock juice to end up.
Toby started breathing again, his heart beating to a slower tune. Curiously, he had stopped sliding. He was motionless, hanging by his foot over the cliff.
His mother told him that Grandfather Alnorell always used to say: “Fear is what makes you fall.” It was a phrase his mother often repeated, but Toby had never understood it. He used to think it meant that if you startled somebody, they might fall over.
But now he understood perfectly. When you live in fear, you fall every step of the way. It is the fear that makes you fall. Now that he knew he was above a lake, he wasn’t frightened of slipping – the water would break his fall. And because he wasn’t frightened any more, he had stopped slipping too.
Toby moved his hands up the length of his body, grabbed hold of a piece of coarse bark and pulled himself up. In a few seconds, his head was level with his feet. One more go, and by pressing down on his forearms he got himself back on firm ground. Weeks of coming and going in the Low Branches had turned him into a gymnast.
Toby was upright now, towering over this dreamy landscape and determined to explore it. He began by going to the right, following a steep passage leading all the way down to the lake.
It was even better, down below. The great moss forests were reflected in the water’s surface, where big water fleas jumped about. It would have taken at least an hour to swim across the vast lake. Toby had never seen anything like it up in the Heights, and even less in the Summit, which he now thought of as an open-top prison. Toby didn’t wait long. He pulled his clothes off and dived in.
A final ray of light managed to penetrate even deep underwater. Toby splashed around, swimming breaststroke clumsily. The water was cool, making him gasp. He swam back quickly to where he could touch the bottom. Up to his neck in water, he contemplated the giant midnight-blue mirror.
He stayed there a while.
“It’s beautiful.”
“Yes,” Toby agreed, “it’s beautiful.”
“Beautiful…”
“I’ve never seen anything like it.”
Toby paused. Who was he talking to? Very slowly, he turned around. He had just been talking to somebody. He hadn’t imagined it. He had just answered somebody.
This somebody had brown plaits and was watching him closely. She was sitting on a piece of bark peel, next to Toby’s clothes. She certainly wasn’t any older than him, but she looked more serious and more confident. Toby only had his head sticking out of the water: he’d been caught unawares and felt embarrassed. He stayed still, eyes wide open, trying to think up a clever way of getting his clothes back. But she didn’t budge.
“There’s only one place as beautiful as this,” she said.
“Is it far?” asked Toby.
The girl didn’t answer. Her hands stayed hidden under her brown cape. Toby tried asking something else.
“Are you the little Lee girl?”
She smiled and Toby liked the freshness of her smile a lot. She smiled extraordinarily well for her age. Generally speaking, people stop smiling so well when they get to four or five years old. It’s downhill after that. But this girl looked as if she was smiling for the first time.
“I’m Elisha.”
Toby was starting to get cold in the water, but he went on, “I’m looking for the little Lee girl.”
She smiled again.
“Who told you about her?”
“Old Tornett.”
“You’ll catch a cold in there.”
“Yes,” said Toby, shivering.
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“You should get out.”
“Yes.”
“You’ll catch a cold.”
“Yes.”
She was laughing and shouting at the same time now, “SO GET OUT!”
Toby was very embarrassed, but he took a step towards the edge, then another and another. Clumsily, he walked on to the white bark beach, stark naked, until he got to his clothes, which he put on as quickly as possible.
Elisha didn’t make fun of him. She just looked relieved he was putting on warm clothes. Toby stood next to her. They were both staring at a glint on the water, far off on the lake.
“I don’t know how to get back home,” said Toby.
She turned her face towards him and he stared at her. She had a very distinctive face. Flat and quite pale, with eyes that were slightly too big for her. When she sat, her brown hair came down to her knees.
“I’ll show you the way tomorrow,” Elisha answered.
“Tomorrow?”
“We’ll set out early.”
“You know where I live?” asked Toby.
“Of course.”
“I have to get back this evening.”
“It’s getting dark. You mustn’t walk at night. Come with me.”
She got up and Toby saw her hands. Unlike her smile, her hands seemed just the right age for her. Toby followed her along the edge of the lake.
“Where are we going?”
“To my house.”
They walked in silence, along the beach at first, before climbing into a wood. Toby noticed that she was smaller than him and that she walked barefoot in the undergrowth. In the half-light, the soles of her feet seemed to give off a blue glow.
When she reached the top of the slope, Elisha stopped. Toby was glad to have a rest because she climbed as fast as a soldier ant and he was having a hard time keeping up. He caught his breath. The lake was starting to disappear in a black mist. Nightfall was smudging out the shadows. Elisha stared into the distance, as if she didn’t take this beauty for granted. They set off again. After fifteen minutes, a delicious smell wafted around them. Toby hadn’t eaten anything since that morning, and he could feel his tummy rumbling.
“We’ve arrived,” said Elisha. “Wait for me here.”
Toby noticed a round opening in the bark, where the appetising aroma was coming from. He stayed where he was while Elisha went over to the door and disappeared inside. After a moment or two, she reappeared in the doorway and called out, “Well? Are you coming in?”
He scrambled up. The room was completely round, no window or chimney, just a small fire in the middle, and big squares of material hanging down in places. These brightly coloured squares immediately caught Toby’s eye, so it was a while before he noticed a very young woman crouched down near to the fire, smiling.
“Hello.”
“Hello,” Toby replied.
“Are you hungry?”
“A little bit,” lied Toby, who was ravenous.
He copied Elisha, who was sitting near the fire. The woman held out a plate covered with a napkin. Elisha lifted up a corner of the napkin, and through a cloud of steam, Toby saw thick pancakes, dripping with butter and honey.
Toby didn’t eat very tidily, but he did have a hearty appetite, which his two onlookers seemed to find funny. Finally, he pushed his plate away, and downed in one the bowl of water Elisha held out to him.
“I’m Toby, by the way.”
This didn’t appear to be news to them. Elisha and the young woman gave the impression they already knew who he was, so he added, “I’m looking for the little Lee girl.”
This got much more of a reaction from them – they both burst out laughing. He joined in, without really knowing why.
“Do you know her?”
This time, Elisha answered.
“It’s me. I’m Elisha Lee, and this is my mother.”
Toby nearly fell over in surprise. This woman was Elisha’s mother? She looked so young. She could only have been in her twenties. You would have thought she was her sister, with the same flat face, and her plaits in coils on her head.
The evening slipped by. They stayed by the fire for a long time, and Toby kept making them laugh.
In the night, using big dripping candles, Elisha took him to see the worm beetles she was breeding. Her mother sold worm beetle eggs and worm beetle wax. They needed looking after, these enormous animals, white as snow and twice as tall as Toby.
“They don’t look as if they’d do any harm,” said Toby, patting one of them on the flank.
“No. That one’s called Lynne. The other one’s Gary.”
“You don’t live far from the Border,” said Toby. “Aren’t you scared of the Grass people stealing your livestock?”
Toby had heard about this when he used to live in the Heights. One day, he accidentally caught two animal breeders talking about the Grass people. He only brought it up again now because he thought it made him sound interesting.
Elisha didn’t take any notice.
“You just have to watch out for the ladybirds,” Elisha explained.
“The ladybirds?”
“The worm beetles get eaten by the ladybirds, their only predators.”
Back inside, close to the fire, Toby told them ladybird stories. His father was a great expert on the subject. Toby spoke at length about the ladybird with thirteen spots – very rare. Just for fun, he made them repeat the scientific name of the ladybird with fourteen spots.
“Quatuordecim-pustulata!”
“Quaduorte … tis … Quatuomdecir … putsulana…” Elisha’s mother stammered.
But Elisha got it right first time. Toby, on the other hand, tied himself in knots trying to explain about dragonflies, which had nothing to do with anything. When they were falling over with tiredness, they crawled to the mattresses hidden behind the coloured squares. Elisha chose the yellow one, and Toby the red one. By the time he closed his eyes, he had forgotten all about his parents, who would have been waiting up for him for hours now. He just heard the little Lee girl crooning in her sleep, “Qua-tuor-de-cim-pus-tu-la-ta…”
The next day, Elisha led Toby all the way back home, but she disappeared into the bushes before Sim and Maya could catch sight of her.
This was the beginning of a special friendship. Deep down in Toby’s heart, it made life in the Low Branches blossom during those long years of exile.
5
The Moth
When Toby woke up in his bark hole, it took him a while to remember where he was. He had escaped for hours in his dreams, reliving his memories of the Low Branches and his first meeting with Elisha.
Dawn’s first rays were reaching out to the Tree. Toby tried to move a little bit. His left leg hurt, but it was still responding. The rest of his body was bruised black and blue.
Usually when you wake up from a nightmare, it’s a relief to see the shaft of light under the door, to re-discover a world that is friendly and free from danger. But when Toby opened his eyes after a good night’s sleep, he was confronted with the nightmare of his life. In a flash, he remembered the manhunt against him. He remembered that he had lost everything. And he relived the visit from the hunters who had almost driven him out of his hole.
He would have started worrying and feeling sorry for himself again if something stronger hadn’t been calling him. Hunger.
“Every brain has its key,” his father always used to say. “Mine is my bed. Yours is your plate. Eat before you think, or you’ll think badly.”
One day, when Toby was low on energy, his father had said, “See? You need food for thought.” And, as with everything Professor Lolness uttered, this expression had become part of everyday speech, without anyone really knowing where it came from.
Toby pressed down on his elbows and nudged his head forwards until he reached the gap in the wood. Carefully, he looked around. Suddenly, he remembered the hunter who might be crouching a little further off. Toby froze. Even starving hungry, Toby’s brain was somehow
still working properly. If the hunter really was there, he would already have pounced. So he poked his whole head out now, unafraid, grabbing hold of a rough bump in the wood and trying to straighten the rest of his body.
He felt like a puppet. His arms and legs were as stiff as sticks attached to a rod. He’d fallen over so many times, his nose was swollen.
The cuts and grazes were painful. He had run for ten hours non-stop the day before, knocking into things, slipping at least twenty times, and scrambling back up just as often, until he had fallen into the hole where he had spent the night.
The good news was that, in spite of everything, he could still walk. His first step was accompanied by what sounded like a whimper but was actually a shriek of joy. He could still walk, and more to the point he actually wanted to after a night of not moving at all.
The next good thing was spotting a big brown scab fungus a little way off, which would do for breakfast. Toby didn’t particularly like this flat kind of mushroom which insects sometimes laid their eggs. Usually, they had to be cooked for a long time before they could be used in a cheese dish or fry-up.
But Toby ripped off a thick chunk and ate it raw. He had also found a tiny pond in a hollow in the bark, which he lapped up like an ant, before going back to his hole. After his improvised meal, he felt his brain getting into gear.
He pondered his plan.
Since being on the run, he had instinctively gone in the same direction. He had taken minor routes from the Summit down to the Heights, where he now was, without actually knowing where he was going. But his whole body had been leading him in this direction, and he soon realised his goal was the Low Branches. All his survival instincts were telling him to go there. No hunter would be able to follow his trail once he was on his home ground.
His father had urged him, “Go. And don’t ever stop.”
But Toby wanted to believe that a safe place existed somewhere in the Tree. Plus, there was Elisha. The only friend he had left, the only one who wouldn’t betray him. Elisha would help him. Hell stopped at the gates to the Low Branches. He had to get there. He had to. But the Land of Onessa was at least five days’ walk away, and hundreds and hundreds of armed men were on the hunt for him. So he would have to travel after nightfall, when different predators – insects or nocturnal birds – were out hunting.