across the
Waters should come to us, not the other way around.”
When we take the footpath
leading to the forest, I can still feel the farmer’s gaze on us.
What could he be thinking – is he a supporter of Phileas, or is he
more inclined to listen to Samuel Senior?
“Well acted,” I compliment
him once we’ve disappeared into the woods. “I don’t think that man
suspects we’re going to set up a secret shipyard on the other side
of the island.”
Ben smirks. “I’m a good
liar.”
Sometime later, the path
gets so narrow that we can’t walk beside each other anymore. I
picked this neglected track on purpose. This way, hardly anyone
will notice us cross. Walt told me where he jumped the Wall the
first few times, and it seemed like a good idea to use his sneak
route.
“What was it like in Hope
Harbor, before everything changed?” Ben inquires, making his way
uphill behind me.
“Quiet,” I answer.
“Peaceful. But restrictive, too. It used to choke
Yorrick.”
“Who’s Yorrick?”
I close my eyes for a
second. “My fiancé,” I quietly respond.
“Aha, so you are tying the
knot soon,” he teases me. “I thought you said you weren’t ready for
that yet?”
I come to a stop and turn
around to face Ben. “Yorrick’s dead. That’s why I’m not ready to
get married yet.” It’s the truth. Even though it’s been three years
since Yorrick crashed to his death on the rocks. Even though I have
said goodbye to his beautifully decorated funeral barge, seeing it
off as it floated away toward the horizon. I can’t let go. It would
feel like betrayal if I did.
Ben’s eyes widen. “Oh, no.
I’m so sorry. I didn’t know. What happened to him?”
“He was killed by our
priests,” I whisper. “Because the horizon couldn’t stop
him.”
“Dark Father,” he mumbles,
distressed, as he reaches out for my hand. His fingers touch mine
and he squeezes them consolingly. “I’m really sorry for
you.”
I smile bitterly. “See? The
criminals don’t just live on your side of the Wall. We used to have
them too.”
After this, we don’t speak
for a long while. In my head, I go over the directions Walt has
given me to get to the stretch of Wall he could easily scale. Like
he said, there’s an old chestnut tree whose branches droop down
over the edge of this bit of the Wall. “We need to climb this
tree,” I explain. “Walt crossed here the first time.”
Ben follows me.
Fortunately, he turns out to be as good at climbing trees as I am.
In no time, we are on the other side. My gaze drifts to a set of
flat stones on the ground forming some kind of road. Thoughtlessly,
I trace the cracks in the surface with my big toe. “Shall we follow
this path?” I suggest.
“How do you know where
that’s going?” Ben asks.
“Well, I take it you know.” I give
him a sideward glance. “We’re on your turf, aren’t we?”
“Just follow me,” he snaps,
taking off so hastily that I need to scamper after him just to keep
up. I roll my eyes. Why exactly did I think it was a good idea to
drag Ben along to this place?
It’s not until we leave the
woodland and end up at a large meadow that I understand the reason
for his black mood. A giant building looms in the distance. The
manor he lived in most of his life – the place where they executed
Henry. He would probably have preferred to steer clear of this
house.
Ben slows down more and
more as we get closer, and finally comes to a full stop.
“What is this?” he mumbles, completely stunned.
Teenagers are sprawled out
on the lawn in front of the house, lounging in the sun and eating
sandwiches. The main doors are wide open. A few elderly ladies are
sitting on the terrace enjoying fresh fruit from a bowl on the
table they’re sitting at. And a big sign above the entrance
proclaims this building is a ‘Youngster School’.
“Looks like lunch break to
me,” I say flippantly.
“They teach here?” Ben’s
eyes almost pop out of their sockets. “To
Waters should come to us, not the other way around.”
When we take the footpath
leading to the forest, I can still feel the farmer’s gaze on us.
What could he be thinking – is he a supporter of Phileas, or is he
more inclined to listen to Samuel Senior?
“Well acted,” I compliment
him once we’ve disappeared into the woods. “I don’t think that man
suspects we’re going to set up a secret shipyard on the other side
of the island.”
Ben smirks. “I’m a good
liar.”
Sometime later, the path
gets so narrow that we can’t walk beside each other anymore. I
picked this neglected track on purpose. This way, hardly anyone
will notice us cross. Walt told me where he jumped the Wall the
first few times, and it seemed like a good idea to use his sneak
route.
“What was it like in Hope
Harbor, before everything changed?” Ben inquires, making his way
uphill behind me.
“Quiet,” I answer.
“Peaceful. But restrictive, too. It used to choke
Yorrick.”
“Who’s Yorrick?”
I close my eyes for a
second. “My fiancé,” I quietly respond.
“Aha, so you are tying the
knot soon,” he teases me. “I thought you said you weren’t ready for
that yet?”
I come to a stop and turn
around to face Ben. “Yorrick’s dead. That’s why I’m not ready to
get married yet.” It’s the truth. Even though it’s been three years
since Yorrick crashed to his death on the rocks. Even though I have
said goodbye to his beautifully decorated funeral barge, seeing it
off as it floated away toward the horizon. I can’t let go. It would
feel like betrayal if I did.
Ben’s eyes widen. “Oh, no.
I’m so sorry. I didn’t know. What happened to him?”
“He was killed by our
priests,” I whisper. “Because the horizon couldn’t stop
him.”
“Dark Father,” he mumbles,
distressed, as he reaches out for my hand. His fingers touch mine
and he squeezes them consolingly. “I’m really sorry for
you.”
I smile bitterly. “See? The
criminals don’t just live on your side of the Wall. We used to have
them too.”
After this, we don’t speak
for a long while. In my head, I go over the directions Walt has
given me to get to the stretch of Wall he could easily scale. Like
he said, there’s an old chestnut tree whose branches droop down
over the edge of this bit of the Wall. “We need to climb this
tree,” I explain. “Walt crossed here the first time.”
Ben follows me.
Fortunately, he turns out to be as good at climbing trees as I am.
In no time, we are on the other side. My gaze drifts to a set of
flat stones on the ground forming some kind of road. Thoughtlessly,
I trace the cracks in the surface with my big toe. “Shall we follow
this path?” I suggest.
“How do you know where
that’s going?” Ben asks.
“Well, I take it you know.” I give
him a sideward glance. “We’re on your turf, aren’t we?”
“Just follow me,” he snaps,
taking off so hastily that I need to scamper after him just to keep
up. I roll my eyes. Why exactly did I think it was a good idea to
drag Ben along to this place?
It’s not until we leave the
woodland and end up at a large meadow that I understand the reason
for his black mood. A giant building looms in the distance. The
manor he lived in most of his life – the place where they executed
Henry. He would probably have preferred to steer clear of this
house.
Ben slows down more and
more as we get closer, and finally comes to a full stop.
“What is this?” he mumbles, completely stunned.
Teenagers are sprawled out
on the lawn in front of the house, lounging in the sun and eating
sandwiches. The main doors are wide open. A few elderly ladies are
sitting on the terrace enjoying fresh fruit from a bowl on the
table they’re sitting at. And a big sign above the entrance
proclaims this building is a ‘Youngster School’.
“Looks like lunch break to
me,” I say flippantly.
“They teach here?” Ben’s
eyes almost pop out of their sockets. “To
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