Seltie helped Vetta make a crude baby sling so she could carry her infant close to her chest, where the tiny girl could keep warm and nurse without fussing. As they headed northward away from the beach, the ground rose, first to a sandy bluff, then to a wild country overgrown with scrub brush and stubby pine trees.
The road northward was relatively clear, which made for easy going. It seemed to have been paved a very long time ago. Cracked and crumbling paving stones periodically showed through the ubiquitous ground cover.
The nearly full moon shed sufficient light for the two women to avoid stumbling. They trudged along wearily for several miles, always listening for sounds of pursuit, but they heard none. When they came to a large boulder by the roadside, Seltie said, “I know this place, Vett. My family used to come here to pick fruit when I was a little girl. We’ll turn off the road here and go up the hillside a little ways. The campsite I told you about is there. You can’t see it from the road, so I expect we’ll be safe from prying eyes and Southport busybodies. You can do it, Vett—just a few steps more. That’s right, on we go.”
The little footpath ran alongside a small, burbling stream. The way up the hillside was dark and tangled, which made for slow going. They emerged into a little glade at the base of a stony hillside. A waterfall spilled into the stream.
“I remember climbing these rocks when I was a girl, hunting with my father. Just around the corner, there’s an alcove with a stone overhang where we can make a fire and get ourselves dry and warm.” They found the alcove, a mere hollow in the large rocks, and threw their backpacks onto its floor. “Look, Vett—it’s all dry, no wind, no rain. Make yourself comfy with the baby. I’m going to make us a toasty fire. Mind if I borrow your flint and steel?” She rummaged in Vetta’s backpack. “I saw you put these into your pack, back at your house. I figured they’d come in handy sooner or later.”
In ten minutes, a crackling fire illuminated Vetta’s weary face as she warmed her hands near the flames. The baby was asleep on a little blue blanket. Vetta began unpacking her backpack and laying her wet things out to dry. Seltie followed suit. Next, Vetta opened the oilcloth pouch and removed her heirloom necklace and the slightly damp diary.
She glanced at Seltie and said in a formal tone, “Seltie Thurbin, when my diary is dry, I’m going to write down all that has happened today. I want my baby to know about you and the loving help you gave us. You made a very great sacrifice, and I will love you forever for it. I hope your husband won’t worry about you, though I’m sure he will.”
Seltie smiled. “That’s generous of you, Vett, but I’m only doing what anybody would. I ain’t nobody special.” She sighed. “You’re right about my Cal, though. He’s going to fret after me for sure. But I expect to be home in a couple of weeks. I’ll explain everything then. Anyway, that Noddak fellow saw us sail away—he was standing on your porch when we left. When our townsfolk get done with him, Cal will have the whole story. He’ll figure I’m helping you get away safe.”
“I hope Noddak doesn’t chase after us,” Vetta said. “It’s going to be slow going for me for a while, what with the baby and all.”
“Oh,” Seltie assured her, “I don’t think he’ll be following anytime soon. He’ll have to get someone to ferry him over from Lone Island, and that’s not going to be easy. Ain’t nobody going to row him over, or loan him a boat, after how he’s acted.”
Vetta laughed. “I suppose not.”
Seltie nodded at Vetta’s diary. “I expect you’ve written quite a bit about your husband in there, haven’t you?”
“Oh, yes, Tee. I’ve been writing about him since before we were married. He was a wonderful man and a gem of a husband, my Telnar. I miss him so much!”
“It’s a shame he couldn’t have lived to see his daughter.”
“He never even knew that I was pregnant. He… his… accident happened about a month before I knew I was with child. After I found out, I started writing even more. I want her to know all about him.”
Seltie stood up and stretched. “It’s getting late, Vett. Time to get some sleep. Looks like the storm’s about spent. Maybe we can find some fruits or something in the morning.” She added some wood to the campfire.
Vetta gathered some fallen pine branches, then got the baby ready for sleep. She made sure her necklace and diary were securely tucked away, then curled up next to Seltie. Soon the two women and the baby were all snuggled together, safe and warm by the fire.