It was pitch dark in the tree-hide. She could hear the soft breathing of the others all around her, and then something else; a quiet rustling. It came from the corner where Karli slept. ‘Karli?’ she whispered. ‘What are you doing?’ ‘I’m going,’ he said. ‘Not now. It’s dark. The moon is too slight.’ ‘I can see by the stars. And I know where they’ve gone, the boy and his camel. They’ll follow the sand.’ ‘You can’t go alone. I’m coming with you.’ Sila pushed her few possessions into a straw bag: her mother’s bone comb, a blanket, a string of shells, a wooden platter, a long sharp flint, a clay cup, a spoon and several rushes, ready to light. ‘I’m glad you’re coming, Sila,’ Karli whispered. They crawled out of the hide and Sila let down the creeper. One end was tied to a stump in the wide mesh of branches that held their tree-home. Sila slipped her arm through a loop of string attached to her bag. Holding tight to the creeper, she swung her legs down until she could feel it between her feet.
