Travellers #1 Read Free Page A

my father walked past, saying something to Rose, patting my shoulder, smiling. “Good luck,” he said quietly. He entered the ford and helped the women across to startcalling the animals. He came back for the pack donkeys, and then the first goats. We had to wait for the main mobs to turn the stones, dislodge the weeds, and make the bottom safer.
    There was something wrong with one of the women, Jonny’s mother. She wasn’t just pregnant or she wouldn’t have been riding a donkey. My father took its halter and led it into the first of the two deep channels. The donkey seemed to lose touch, swimming rather than feeling its way, then the danger was over. It followed my father across the boulder bank to the next channel, long ears flicking as it decided where to step. I like watching donkeys think things out.
    The woman cried out in the second deep channel, grasped, and was gone. The donkey rolled. My father surfaced downstream with the draggle of wet clothes that was Jonny’s mother, fighting towards the other shingle bank. Two young men he had put there ran into the shallows, took the woman, and my father was already catching and quietening the donkey. Most of us would only cross once. He would go backwards and forwards until the last animal, the last person, was across. Whenever an animal baulked or somebody slipped, he was there. I could hear his calm voice, see him at the centre.
    He smiled and beckoned. My goats clumped tight, I followed Rose’s. Jokey and Tarky maaed, meaning they were unsure, and the others were silent and looked at me, but they followed as I led into the crossing. I had to swim a few strokes in the deep channel, strangely free, as if my leg didn’t matter. Then I felt the bottom and called my goats together.
    Several young men and women waited downstream to catch anyone that whirled away towards the rapids. They were wet through, splashing and yelling. One of them grinned, and I tried to nod and wink back.
    “Cross with me, Ish,” Rose said at the next channel, but I led my flock in, not looking at her. Almost across, Specklycried. Her kid was sweeping away. I must keep going or they would all turn and follow me downstream. Somebody pulled out the kid, and it ran crying to join us. Water splattered the stones which were still warm enough to dry at once. Then there were three shallow channels we just splashed through. I had led my first flock across the Narrower Ford! Getting them over safely mattered, not just to me but to the people who had watched to see how I got on.
    Rose waved, smiled, and strode up a gully. Our goats were already feeding, Lik and Bar circling. This side had not been grazed for a year. The sun was going down behind the western hills. The moon would be early tonight.
    There was some trouble down in the ford. The sheep were always difficult. The mass of them dwindled to a narrow line making the crossing. Now and again I’d hear a bleat, a shout, a bark, but the noises were drowned by the river and a sound I hadn’t heard all winter: wind in the grass.
    Our clothes dried. Long before the moon was low in the western sky we would follow the whistles, turn, and lead our flocks down beside the other river, the Wiper, where the women would have put up the tents. Lik and Bar would keep watch for wild dogs as we ate, and the men would take turns once the animals were bedded down.
    At last we saw the big walls our father had described, worked west at the whistles, and joined the other flocks and mobs streaming down. Even before I saw the red roof of our tent looking black in the moonlight, I heard Rose’s scream. I pushed through. The Narrower Ford had taken its toll, not the youngest, not the weakest, not old Hagar.
    I knew I must not cry. Through the hubbub, voices shouted. A young donkey had floundered in the deepest crossing. Hawk went to help. The donkey had rolled, kicked his head, and my father disappeared beneath the black water.

Chapter 5
Bad Luck and Good
    Bad luck is