fearful . . .”
Alice understood what her father was saying, but she set her mouth in exactly the way her beautiful mother used to do. “Tata, no. I don’t want to. I should stay, and face up to what I’ve done. I have killed a man. I have put the village in peril. Only a coward runs away.”
Her father clutched his head and cried, “Don’t argue with me, Alice! For once, do as you are told! Remember that your life is precious — if not to you, then to me! Make clever decisions, not foolish ones! Be brave when you
have
to be, not when it merely seems noble! Go to the mountains. Find friends there. Keep fighting the enemy. Fight and fight. Fight with every ounce of your courage. I’ll be proud of you, if you do that. I won’t be proud if you simply sit here until they come to drag you away!”
Alice stared. She knew she must go. But her heart tightened with grief, and her eyes filled with tears. “Come with me then, Tata,” she begged. “I don’t want to leave you.”
“I can’t,” her father answered. “I must stay with the zoo. The animals need me.” And this was a truth Alice recognized, she who had been raised alongside the animals and knew better than anyone how deeply they needed somebody to care about them. There was no time to lose — dawn had already given way to day, and news of the train wreck was riding the breeze to reach the ears of the Leader — but while her father packed her bag Alice shielded her face with a cloak and ran through streets she’d known all her life, through a neighborhood that had seen her grow from a child to a woman, through a town that was her center of the world; and went to the zoo.
She walked the perimeter of the cages, skimming her fingers along the bars. She whispered to the creatures that lived behind them, as well as to the ones who had once been and were gone and lived only in her memory. Her life would be different from now on, frightening and exhilarating, reticent and precarious, and Alice felt ready to face it only because she’d lived beside animals who longed for such fierce existences. Time was ticking, and she needed to hurry. Reaching the pebbled path beside the eagle’s cage, she turned for a final look. The kangaroo was watching her, trembling in the cold. There was no minute to spare for running her hand over its scratchy gray face. “I have to leave.” Alice spoke to all of them. “But I’ll come back to you, I promise. Tata will stay, and care for you while I’m gone. But I will come back.”
“And has she come back?”
asked Tomas.
“She has not,” replied the wolf. “The moon has grown big and small and big again, but she hasn’t returned.”
“Lovely Alice,” sighed the llama. “Everything is wrong since Alice went away.”
“Where has she gone?” puzzled the kangaroo.
“She’s forgotten us,” said the unhappy bear.
“She hasn’t forgotten us!” bleated the chamois. “She was
our
daughter too! She was the daughter of the zoo. She won’t forget us. She’ll come back as soon as she can.”
“She promised she would,” said the llama, “and she will.”
And Andrej heard it again then,
Alice Alice Alice,
like a leaf skittering on the wind. He was well acquainted with the kind of mountains into which the girl had fled. He wondered what she, someone accustomed to comfort, would make of the rugged ground, the chalk-white stone, the trees that were stern and ungiving. He thought of his uncle Marin, who had taught Andrej the tricks of surviving in those harsh ranges. Alice would need the help of somebody like Marin, who knew about fire and shelter. Andrej tried to hear if
Marin Marin Marin
was wafting around him like a leaf: but the wolf had risen and was speaking again, and Andrej looked up to listen.
“The morning after Alice went away, the village Mayor came to the zoo. He cast a wide shadow and smelled of fat and hide. He stood on the grass where you two pups are sitting now. He talked to the zoo’s owner.
Alice understood what her father was saying, but she set her mouth in exactly the way her beautiful mother used to do. “Tata, no. I don’t want to. I should stay, and face up to what I’ve done. I have killed a man. I have put the village in peril. Only a coward runs away.”
Her father clutched his head and cried, “Don’t argue with me, Alice! For once, do as you are told! Remember that your life is precious — if not to you, then to me! Make clever decisions, not foolish ones! Be brave when you
have
to be, not when it merely seems noble! Go to the mountains. Find friends there. Keep fighting the enemy. Fight and fight. Fight with every ounce of your courage. I’ll be proud of you, if you do that. I won’t be proud if you simply sit here until they come to drag you away!”
Alice stared. She knew she must go. But her heart tightened with grief, and her eyes filled with tears. “Come with me then, Tata,” she begged. “I don’t want to leave you.”
“I can’t,” her father answered. “I must stay with the zoo. The animals need me.” And this was a truth Alice recognized, she who had been raised alongside the animals and knew better than anyone how deeply they needed somebody to care about them. There was no time to lose — dawn had already given way to day, and news of the train wreck was riding the breeze to reach the ears of the Leader — but while her father packed her bag Alice shielded her face with a cloak and ran through streets she’d known all her life, through a neighborhood that had seen her grow from a child to a woman, through a town that was her center of the world; and went to the zoo.
She walked the perimeter of the cages, skimming her fingers along the bars. She whispered to the creatures that lived behind them, as well as to the ones who had once been and were gone and lived only in her memory. Her life would be different from now on, frightening and exhilarating, reticent and precarious, and Alice felt ready to face it only because she’d lived beside animals who longed for such fierce existences. Time was ticking, and she needed to hurry. Reaching the pebbled path beside the eagle’s cage, she turned for a final look. The kangaroo was watching her, trembling in the cold. There was no minute to spare for running her hand over its scratchy gray face. “I have to leave.” Alice spoke to all of them. “But I’ll come back to you, I promise. Tata will stay, and care for you while I’m gone. But I will come back.”
“And has she come back?”
asked Tomas.
“She has not,” replied the wolf. “The moon has grown big and small and big again, but she hasn’t returned.”
“Lovely Alice,” sighed the llama. “Everything is wrong since Alice went away.”
“Where has she gone?” puzzled the kangaroo.
“She’s forgotten us,” said the unhappy bear.
“She hasn’t forgotten us!” bleated the chamois. “She was
our
daughter too! She was the daughter of the zoo. She won’t forget us. She’ll come back as soon as she can.”
“She promised she would,” said the llama, “and she will.”
And Andrej heard it again then,
Alice Alice Alice,
like a leaf skittering on the wind. He was well acquainted with the kind of mountains into which the girl had fled. He wondered what she, someone accustomed to comfort, would make of the rugged ground, the chalk-white stone, the trees that were stern and ungiving. He thought of his uncle Marin, who had taught Andrej the tricks of surviving in those harsh ranges. Alice would need the help of somebody like Marin, who knew about fire and shelter. Andrej tried to hear if
Marin Marin Marin
was wafting around him like a leaf: but the wolf had risen and was speaking again, and Andrej looked up to listen.
“The morning after Alice went away, the village Mayor came to the zoo. He cast a wide shadow and smelled of fat and hide. He stood on the grass where you two pups are sitting now. He talked to the zoo’s owner.
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