Diana's Writing Blog

I’ve finally figured out how to work this thing. It’s one of two gadgets I stole before leaving the cargo hold. Some sort of audio log to document life here on this brave new world. Who better to do it than the only smart one on the planet? Here goes: Mag’s audio log. It’s been nine days since we landed on–you know, I don’t really know what they’re calling this dirt ball. I missed that briefing. Oh well.

Anyway, the shelter is built, the fire is lit, and I’ve set traps to catch those large rodent things that I’ve seen running around–they look a lot tastier than the ones I had to eat on Earth. It’s been 9 days since we landed on this planet and there’s really nothing left to do. I’ve resorted to watching the colonists. They’ve had to relocate their colony, which–comically enough–they’ve named Hope. The Hopeless, I call them. Some of the brightest from the space station, none with less than a doctorate in some field or other, and yet not one of them has the sense to realize that river valley equals flooding.

Annoyingly enough, they moved closer to my camp. They’ve chosen a clearing just a mile or two from my home. It was quite the unwelcome surprise at first, but now that I’ve nothing to do it’s rather handy to have some entertainment. I’ve made a nice comfortable perch in one of the trees. From there, I can use the long-range goggles, the other gadget I stole during my trip in the cargo hold, to watch them as they go about their day. It’s turning out to be quite entertaining. Just yesterday, this brilliant colony of doctors and scientists left their only vehicle unattended near the cliffs while they examined some sort of flower bush. It was hilarious to see them scramble back as the vehicle rolled slowly over the edge. I know what you’re thinking, but I couldn’t have done it if I wanted to: there’s no cover out by the cliffs. No, the geniuses did that all on their own. It was a great stroke of luck for me, though. That night, I climbed down and salvaged five lights, a battery, and a solar charger.

Today, it seems they’ve given up on exploring and are concentrating on survival. Smart, in my humble opinion: their food stores won’t last long and neither will summer. They think they’ve got another two months, but I can see the leaves changing already. They think that just because the survey a year ago documented a summer that lasted four and a half months, it’ll be the same this year. These space born colonists, so used to dependable machine-made seasons, can’t fathom that the seasons vary on a real planet. They’ll have a rude awakening when the snow starts. Not the beautiful and regularly scheduled Christmas snow, either. No, they’ll get to dig their little pre-fab huts out of piles and piles of snow when the blizzards come.

I can’t make myself feel sorry for them, though. Not after the way my family and I were treated when we moved to the station. Not after being called Dirt Girl and Rat Eater–hurtful, however accurate they were. No, after ridiculing those of us who had to try and scrape out a living on Earth, these people deserve whatever they get. And I get to watch. And, let’s face it, maybe help a little.

Day 16

My traps are wildly successful. I’ve actually had to disarm a few; daddy always taught me to kill only as much as I can eat and I’ve got food for the next week and a half. I’ve even started to make a pelt blanket for when it gets colder. Soon I’ll start drying meat for winter, but I hope to kill some of the larger animals for that. Even as I watch the colonists today, I’m making a spear with the knife I got on my last shopping trip. Shopping, that’s what I call it when I sneak into the camp at night and raid the food and tool supplies. So far they haven’t seemed to notice. I don’t even think they keep inventories. It would be a violation of the trust treaty they all signed. Being a stowaway, I never signed any such treaty.

There’s a lot of excitement at Camp Hopeless today. They’re going to try lighting a fire again. You see, being space born, they fear fire with a sort of mindless terror that I’ll never understand. As a result, not one of these fine and highly educated people brought any means of lighting fire. And instead of using a spark from any of the numerous electrical devices in their possession, they’ve reverted all the way back to the prehistoric method of rubbing two sticks together. It’s been three days of everyone sitting cross-legged in the center of all of their little hut town, rubbing sticks together, and it still hasn’t gotten old. A little pathetic and desperate maybe, but still amusing.

There are seventy-two colonists in all. Too many to name, but I’ve picked out about five favorites. There’s Chief, the pompous jerk who’s convinced he’s in charge even though he hasn’t got the sense to find his own head in the dark. Then there’s Old Lady, a mean old bag who scolds everyone she can find. I rather like her. After that, there’s Whiner who seems convinced that everything is about him. And Drama Queen, who’s sort of a female version of Whiner. But she’s young and pretty, so she actually gets what she wants. Last, and my favorite, is Outcast. He’s in his mid twenties or early thirties, not much older than me, and in great shape. He’s always friendly and helpful and he actually seems to have some sense. Naturally, none of the others like him. But I do: I’m counting on him to mate with the others so that not all of the next generation are helpless morons. It’d be nice to have some decent neighbors someday.

Day 17

They finally did it! Chief, in a dazzling display of mild intelligence, used a lens to magnify the sun’s rays and light a fire. To celebrate, Chief proclaimed a holiday for the rest of the day. The way they were carrying on, you’d think it was raining credit chits from the sky. They were hugging and dancing around and throwing random objects high into the sky. Then they stoked the fire as big as they dared and hosted a huge banquet of the last of their rehydrated food. They’ll have to start using the guide books of useful plants and animals that each of them was given. I’d kill for one of those!

And so I watched them celebrate their first slightly clever achievement long into the night. I should’ve known that the cleverness wouldn’t last. As the last of the colonists fell asleep, I saw Whiner and another man approach the fire with a bucket. I watched in horror as he and the other man hefted the bucket up and dumped water–precious water they’d hauled from the stream 3 miles away–onto the fire. Onto the fire! They put it out. You never put out the fire. Everyone knows that! You take great pains to make sure you never have to relight the fire. You assign people to make sure that there are, at all times, at least embers that you can stoke up in an emergency. You never, never, never put the fire out. And you certainly don’t dump water on perfectly good re-burnable wood! Morons! Horrible, horrible, idiots!

I stalked away in utter disgust, deciding that they needed a penalty for stupidity. Another shopping trip, I think.

Day 19

It was an idiot thing to do on my part! Daddy always told me to never underestimate anyone, cause that’s when you get into trouble. Who knew stupidity was contagious?

It happened yesterday, the day after Fire day. I’d gone shopping that night and got myself a nice coil of durable twine and another knife. These were going to be the finishing touches of a new spear, since my carved one had turned out to not be sharp enough to kill any large animals. I was carving a large notch into a sturdy stick when he strode right into camp. It was Outcast. He’d followed the footprints I’d carelessly left, leading from Camp Hopeless to my own.

I was so surprised that all I could do was stare up from where I was sitting on the ground. All around me were the things I’d stolen from Hopeless. I was well and truly caught. There were only two options: kill him and hope they don’t miss him, or let him take me back to Hopeless and be tried as a stowaway and thief. But, to my infinite surprise, he didn’t seem angry at all. He knelt down in front of me, stretching out his empty hands as if I were a stray dog he wanted to coax. “I’m not going to hurt you,” he said, gently. “Can you understand me?” I debated whether or not to let him know I understood him. While I was thinking, Outcast reached behind his back. I leapt up, knife in front of me. “No, no,” he said quickly. “It’s not a weapon. It’s just these.” He pulled out a large vial of pills and a small metal comb. “See?” He held them out to me. “They’re for you.” I took them and looked at the pills questioningly. “Vitamins,” he explained.

I tossed the vial back to him. “You’ll need those for when winter comes,” I said. “Only thing you’ll have to eat, by the looks of it.” I examined the comb and, with a shrug, began to brush the knots out of my hair.

After a few moments of silence, Outcast asked, “Do you live out here alone?”

I nodded absently. I was digging through my food stores for one of the better dried rodent carcasses.

“Do you have a name?”

I fished a good carcass out of the make-shift larder and presented it to him. “Mags,” I said. Outcast recoiled at the sight of the dead animal. I rolled my eyes. “It’s good. Dried, so it’ll keep.” I thrust it at him again. “Payment for what I took.”

Outcast held it gingerly and swallowed. “Thanks.”

“Got more, if you like. Forest’s full of ‘em.”

“Uh, no thanks,” he said before I could turn back to the larder. I shrugged and went back to my spear. Outcast knelt next to me. “I’m Rand.” He held out his hand and I shook it. Then he stood and trotted off. I watched him disappear into the trees, then went back to my spear.

I wonder if he’ll come back. I really don’t know how I’d feel if he did. One things for sure: I have to start covering my tracks.

Day 21

I went out hunting yesterday. Went after those big, four-legged deer-looking things. They run like they’ve got eight legs and wings! And no matter what side I approach from, they always seem to catch wind of me. I’ll have to rethink my tactics for tomorrow. Today, I’ve decided to take it easy and watch the Hopeless. There was a big rain storm last night, so a bunch of those flimsy huts fell right down. My shelter, little more than a triangle frame of sticks with brush on top, has a leak or two, as well. I’m thinking of making a rodent skin roof, sort of like a tent.

The Hopeless have mounted some sort of logging operation. They’ve begun hacking down any tree near enough, hard wood or soft. I hope they don’t touch my perch tree! Then they just tack the new wood over the damage and call it done. It won’t hold three weeks, let alone all winter.

Outcast’s–I mean, Rand’s house wasn’t touched. Had the sense to build it near the rocks for cover, clever boy that he is. So he’s going around and offering help to all the others. So far, the only ones to take him up on the offer are a single mother and her three kids and two old women who can barely stand, let alone wield a hammer. He tried to help Old Lady, but she snatched the hammer away and began doing it herself. I’ll give two to one odds that her handiwork falls down before the night is through. Speaking of, I’d better get working on my own shelter.

Rand showed up just after dark. He appeared out of nowhere just as I was stoking up the fire for the night. Startled me so much I almost fell into it.

“Sorry,” he said, squatting down and warming his hands. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”

“It’s fine,” I replied. Any space born who can find their way through the woods at night deserves to scare me.

“I brought you this.” Rand pulled out what looked like a cup with the bottom cut out and a sifter over the top. “It’s a water purifier.”

“Thanks,” I said, setting it to the side and finishing with the fire.

Rand cleared his throat. “I was sort of hoping to trade for some more of your meat.”

I looked at him in surprise. “You actually tried it?”

He nodded. “We finished all of our rations a few days ago. We’re having a bit of trouble growing our own food.”

“That’s because your growing season’s nearly over,” I said, rising and pulling the last three dried rodents from my larder. I’ll have to set some more traps tomorrow. Or, with some luck, kill me a deer-beast. I handed him the rodents. “Doesn’t that guide book they gave you tell you anything?”

“It’s a little hard to follow,” Rand replied. “I suppose we’ll have to learn.”

“Or starve.”

Rand frowned at this. “How do you catch these?” He held up the rodents. “Some kind of weasel, aren’t they?”

I shrugged. “I don’t have a book to tell me the names of things. As for catching them, my dad taught me a few traps.”

Rand suddenly grew excited. “I’ve got an idea. Here,” he held out his guide book. “I’ll give you the book, if you show me how to trap.”

I reached for it eagerly, but stopped as I realized what he was offering. “This is your survival book. What’ll you do?”

“Everyone in camp has one,” Rand replied. “I could always borrow one.” He still held the book out.

“From who? Nobody likes you.”

Rand blinked in surprise and lowered the book. “How did you know–” He trailed off as I motioned to the long-range goggles hanging from my shelter. “You’ve been spying on us?”

“I get bored sometimes. Not much else to do. Why don’t they like you?”

Rand sighed and sank back down near the fire. “I’m a criminal. I was in prison.”

Then it was my turn to blink in surprise. “In prison? Then how’d you pass the screening to come here?”

“The mission heads thought we needed variety in the colony. So they sent one of me along.”

I scoffed. “Very progressive of them.” I looked at him and saw for the first time the way he slumps his shoulders and stares at the ground. “Must be hard living with them. Have them look down on you like that.”

He nodded slowly, staring into the fire. “Sometimes.”

“I know just how it feels.” It’s the whole reason I was so desperate to leave that floating tin can. “Why do you stay? Why not escape into the woods, like me?” A part of me jumps at the thought of him living out here with me.

He shrugged. “I signed the trust contract. I pledged to work with these people and build a community. Besides, maybe the mission heads were right: maybe the community needs a few like me.”

I nodded. “I’ll teach you to trap,” I decided. “We’ll share the book. That way, you can come get it if you need it.”

He handed it to me and I pressed it close to my chest. Then he stood to go, but turned as he reached the edge of the light. “You never asked me what I did. To get into prison.”

I shrugged. “What’s it matter?”

He smiled and gave a slight nod. “‘Night, Mags.”

The sound of my own name was so startling that I couldn’t reply before he vanished into the trees. It’s been so long since I’d heard it, I was beginning to forget I had a name.

Day 27

Rand comes everyday now. The others don’t seem to mind too much that he wanders off. And I certainly don’t mind the company. It’s strange, when I was on the station I was convinced that I’d be happier than anything if I never saw another human being for the rest of my life. I guess the grass is always greener on the other side. My dad used to say that all the time, but I never really understood it till I got here and actually saw green grass. Living on Earth, I thought the expression should’ve been ‘the grass is always browner.’ But that didn’t make any sense either. Who wants brown grass?

But I have to say, now that I have the survival book, not only is the grass greener, there are thirty different kinds. And some are edible! That book is the most wonderful thing ever. It turns out that anything I need grows out here: medicine, food, even a sort of primitive toothbrush. But the absolute best so far is the Floss Tree–search me where they got that name from. The tree itself has great leaves: huge and stretchy and they make the best roof I’ve ever found. But the real treasure is the sap. It’s clear and sort of bubbles out in great globs from the tree. The trick is to catch it as it’s coming out, just before it hardens. Then you can pull and pull on it and it makes this long, thin string that can stretch as long as a quarter mile. When it dries, it’s stretchy and so strong it can hold a hundred pounds. I need this stuff. I could make nets, traps, rope, sewing thread, anything! Hopefully, I can find some way to improve my luck hunting those deer-beasts–the book says they’re called Deetahs, because they’re deer that run like cheetahs. Stupid name.

Anyway, the weasel trapping is coming along nicely. Rand’s a fast learner. The funniest part of the lessons is when I make him gut the things. I’ve never seen a grown man turn that shade of green. But he’s no whiner, he does it. Even if he does have to vomit off in the bushes every time. Today’s lesson’ll be skinning and drying ‘em. I wonder what shade of green he’ll turn for that.

Rand came bounding into camp three hours late, talking so fast I barely caught two words. “Slow down!” I exclaimed. I set aside the spear I’d been fiddling with in the vain hope it’d help me get a Deetah. “What happened?” I could tell he was excited about something.

“I caught one. A weasel. And I gutted it, too,” he gasped out. “Without vomiting.”

I leapt to my feet. “No! Really?”

He nodded and embraced me. We laughed as he spun me around, then set me on my feet again. “It was the snare trap. The one that hangs them.”

I nodded. “They keep their heads down, so that one works nice. What did the others think?”

He laughed. “When I walked into camp with a gutted weasel? There was screaming and disgust. Not one of them would try any, even though all they can find to eat is sweet grass and bean-wheat. Now they’re all convinced I’m an Earther as well as a criminal.”

I bristled. “What’s wrong with that?” I demanded, glaring.

He studied me for a minute. “I should’ve guessed. You’re an Earther.”

“First fifteen years of my life. And proud of it! You got a problem with Earthers?”

“Truthfully? Before coming here, I’d probably have said yes. But now, after living here, my whole perspective has changed.” He laughed. “No wonder you’ve never had any trouble out here alone! Living here must be a pleasure cruise compared to Earth.”

I shrugged, still seething a bit. “The rats are bigger and a lot easier to catch,” I said, wondering if he’d catch the sarcasm.

He did. “Don’t be that way,” he begged. “How could I have understood what it’s like to live on a planet with nothing before actually doing it?”

“Nothing?” I exclaimed. “You live in your little pre-fab huts with your solar power and your survival books. You want nothing? You try living on Earth. You try living in a little box with four sisters and your father squeezed so close you can barely breathe. You try fighting grown men just to get a piece of string so you can set a trap and maybe catch a rat that’ll keep you full for about three seconds. You try having to sleep with a rock next to you for ten years so that you can beat any intruders to death before they can get to the money you’re desperately saving to get off that horrible dirt ball. Then you tell me about nothing!” All at once I was crying for no reason, sobbing so hard I could barely stand.

Rand walked over and put his arms around me. I let him hold me, crying into his shirt as he petted my hair. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I’m sorry.” But I wasn’t mad at him, I never had been, not really.

When I finally stopped crying, we went about our lesson as if nothing had happened. I taught him to cut the skin off the weasel in one big piece so that the hide could be used for other things. I tried to explain how to dry and cure it, but that’s too complicated for one afternoon. We stopped as the sun began to go down. Just before he left, Rand opened the bag he’d brought and handed me a bundle wrapped in an old cloth. “A thank you for the lessons,” he explained. I unwrapped my gift, noting that the cloth would make a good towel. Inside was another solar battery and a small heater. “It’s to keep the inside of the tent warm when winter comes,” he said proudly.

I cocked an eyebrow. “Stolen?”

He shrugged. “They’ll never miss them.” He turned to go, but stopped as he remembered something: “Oh, I forgot to mention, Liddy–what do you call her?”

“Diva?” I guessed.

“That’s it. Liddy and two of the others have been missing since last night. Keep an eye out for their tracks?”

“Sure,” I replied as if it weren’t any big deal. But it is! Now I’ve got to worry about more people wandering into my camp. Or worse, my traps.

Day 29

It’s all Rand’s fault! If he hadn’t told me about the missing people, I could go about my business as if nothing were wrong. But something is wrong. There are people out there. How am I supposed to go hunting for Deetahs with people wandering all over? Something bad’s going to happen, I just know it. But I have to go hunting today. All yesterday, I gathered string from the Floss Trees. Now I have a great throwing rope with rocks on either end that I can use to trip the Deetahs up. I can’t not go…but I can’t stop worrying either. I just know my concentration will be off. And it’s Rand’s fault. I mean, knowing there’s people out there doesn’t mean I can do anything about it. But if I were oblivious, at least I could hunt in peace.

I got a Deetah! It worked just like I thought it would: I hid in the bushes–squatted there for hours–and finally a Deetah came by. I jumped out and threw the trip rope with one quick movement. That stalled the Deetah long enough for me to get it right through the heart with my spear. Good thing it was a long spear, because those things have sharp hooves and they can kick, let me tell you! But I got it. I killed it. As soon as I got it through the heart, I slit the throat with my knife because you have to bleed the body out. Then, like my dad taught me, I cupped my hands under the blood and drank. It’s an old tradition, dad said, to drink the blood of your first real kill.

Unfortunately, Diva chose that moment to appear. She took one look at me: looming over a Deetah, clutching a knife and covered in blood from face to feet, and took off screaming like she’d been the one stabbed. I know that can’t be good. Now I’m back at camp skinning my Deetah and hoping Rand’ll show up to give me some sort of update. I know there’s a chance she won’t make it back to camp, but I’ve never been very lucky so I won’t count on it.

Day 30

Rand came with the news today: the missing people had been found. Apparently, Diva–in her infinite wisdom–had talked two of the men into taking her up the mountains in search of diamonds or gold. Search me how she ended up down in the woods alone, but apparently seeing me sent her running back for camp. The other two wandered in this morning. Nervously, I asked, “Di–I mean, Liddy…did she say anything about me?”

Rand laughed. “You would be the demon monster that she saw ripping a Deetah apart with its bare hands?”

I sighed in relief and nodded. “They’re not going to mount a search then, I take it?”

Rand shook his head. “Commander Ramingo,” Chief to me, “thinks she either hallucinated the whole thing or, at worst, met up with some native humanoid that didn’t show up on the survey scans. Either way, I think you’re safe.”

I smiled and exhaled toward the sky. “I was so worried!” I walked over to where the Deetah hung from the tree near my tent-shelter. I disembowled it before I dragged it home, so there was only one thing left to do: “Wanna learn how to skin a Deetah?”

Rand studied me closely. “How much of what Liddy was babbling was true?” he asked slowly.

I grabbed my knife and began to cut around the ankles of the carcass. “Dunno. What was she babbling?”

“Well, did you kill it with your bare hands?”

“No,” I answered, absently, “I used that new spear I made with the Floss Tree twine.”

“Well did you rip its throat out?”

“I cut its throat,” I replied. “You have to bleed it out to drag it. Disembowel it, too. Otherwise it’s just too heavy.”

I knew what was coming next: “Did you drink its blood?”

I looked at him. “That’s an old tradition.”

“That’s disgusting!” Rand exclaimed. “You could get germs and die.”

“Naw,” I replied. “The blood was still warm from the body. No danger.” I finished cutting around the skin and began to pull it free, separating the skin from the fat with my knife.

Rand gagged and whirled. “I don’t think I’m ready for big game, yet.”

I scoffed. “Fine, stick to sweet grass and bean wheat like the rest of the space born.”

Rand groaned. “Don’t remind me! We’re all so sick of that garbage we’re about to go crazy. And, let me tell you, they don’t call it bean-wheat for nothing.”

I chuckled. “Still no takers on the weasel?”

Rand shook his head. “I’ve caught enough of them, but you can only eat weasel and sweet grass stew for so long.”

“Want the book back?”

Rand shrugged. “What’s the point? I couldn’t figure out how to use it when I did have it.”

“What do you mean?” I demanded. I set my knife aside and wiped my hands on my pants, already stained from yesterday’s slaughter. I pulled the book from my back pocket and opened it. “See, there are about thirty different kinds of vegetables and grasses that grow around here.”

Rand shook his head. “You don’t understand what it’s like. Like you said, I’m a space born. We can’t tell one green leafy thing from another, even if they do give us a picture. Besides, some of those are poisonous if you eat the wrong part or cook it wrong or even eat it in the wrong season. I just can’t bet my life on a plant!”

I nodded in understanding and put the book back. “I guess when you’re space born, you don’t have that confidence that comes from living around plants. I’m the same with machines.” I thought for a moment. “Listen, tomorrow I’ll show you how to cure a skin. That’ll be the end of your animal lessons for a while. Then, maybe, I could take you out and show you how to find some of those edible plants.”

Rand nodded. “I’d like that. The others might even be persuaded to eat some.”

“What a relief,” I remarked, dryly.

“Well, I’ll get out of here before I see anymore of the inside of the Deetah. Oh, I almost forgot again.” He pulled out another bundle, this time wrapped in a shirt.

I need a new shirt, I thought while I unwrapped it. It was a hammer, a little box of nails, and a fold out saw. “Wow!” I exclaimed.

Rand shrugged. “I thought you might like to make a sturdier house this Fall. Of course, I’ll help with the sawing and the building. And if you run out of nails, I can get more.”

“Thank you,” I said. “I could build a proper house if I ever find the time.” I hugged the gifts to my chest. “Careful, keep giving me presents and a girl could get ideas.” I winked and he laughed.

“See you tomorrow.”

“Bye,” I said, absently. I was already imagining a huge rectangle house with a wooden frame roof and skins nailed on top. Maybe I’ll even build furniture!

Day 31

I’m worried about Rand. It’s nearly dark and he hasn’t shown up. I started to cure the Deetah skin without him. He’ll have to see the first part of the process on weasel skin: I need these skins done. I don’t know what could’ve happened to him. I’ll bet Chief forbade everyone from leaving camp, or some nonsense like that. I’d hate to think Rand was trapped down there with those morons because of me. If he hasn’t shown by tomorrow, I’ll cancel the hunting trip I had planned for the day after and go down and look for him. I’m almost scared to go near Camp Hopeless anymore. They’ve probably upped the security since Diva’s little encounter in the woods.

Day 33

I’m scared. I didn’t want to believe anything was wrong, but I waited all yesterday and still no Rand. To keep myself busy, I coiled the Floss Tree twine, the stuff that pulled the thinnest, to use as thread. Then I carved a few sewing needles. Then I improved on my carved spear design by adding barbs to the tip. It’s a fishing spear now. I wish Rand were here to see it. I’ll bet the Hopeless wouldn’t turn their noses up at fresh fish!

I could barely sleep last night. I was tempted to march down there and see what was going on, but I couldn’t risk them seeing the light from my torch. As it is, I’m leaving for Camp Hopeless as soon as it’s light enough to see a few feet in front of me. If something has happened to him, so help me, I’ll…I don’t know what I’ll do, but they’ll live to regret it.

The camp is in chaos. I don’t know what’s going on, but Rand seems to be the center of it. They’ve got him leashed to a post in the middle of camp. Everyone was gathered around, staring at him or talking excitedly. He seemed unhurt, which is the only reason I’m not down there right now instead of back at my own camp. While I was down there, Chief and a bunch of the others seemed to be holding some sort of trial or inquisition. They kept yelling and pointing at him. I only caught a few words from where I was sitting back at my perch, but from what I could gather they think he’s kidnapped someone and they’re threatening to execute him tomorrow unless he tells them where she is. Then I noticed that the woman whose cabin Rand had fixed was standing nearby. She only had two children: the older of the girls was missing. Now I have to find the brat and toss her back into camp before. I swear on my father’s grave, if they kill him they won’t have to worry about starving to death this winter. They won’t even live to see the winter.

While I was down there, I skirted the camp and found some tracks leading away up the hills. They were small enough to be made by a child. Now all I have to do is follow them and hope she didn’t fall over some cliff. But first I have to disguise myself. When I go into that camp, they have to believe I’m that primitive humanoid they thought I was. I’m wearing my weasel pelt blanket, sewn together with a few quick stitches from my Floss Tree thread. I smeared mud mixed with blood onto my face, arms, and legs. The carved spear and trip twine are the last touches. Now I really am Dirt Girl. And they will know my wrath!

Day 34

Yesterday already seems so surreal. I can barely believe what happened. After I got suited up, I took the fast way up into the mountains, even though it killed me not to check on Rand. I was plagued by visions of burly Hopeless men beating a confession out of him, but that just made me run faster.

I picked up the girl’s trail as it headed out of the foothills and up into the serious mountains. Search me where she was headed. Unfortunately, I’m no pro tracker and tracking on rock is nearly impossible. But somehow, I kept finding signs of her: a print here, a broken plant there. Before I knew it, I was up on a narrow ledge that winds its way up the mountain. And there she was, huddled against the rock face, stuck.

Now, we’ve established that the Hopeless are stupid with little exception, but if you plan to climb a mountain, you’d better not be afraid of heights!! But there she was, too scared to move, and me with no choice but to go out after her. The girl screamed as I started towards her, but the very thing that kept her stuck also kept her from escaping. I crawled out onto the ledge and offered her the butt end of my spear. Of course, being primitive Dirt Girl, I couldn’t speak and ruin the illusion, but she got the idea. We crawled slowly back down off the ledge, me scooting backward and her crawling with one hand clutching my spear.

Finally, we were back on solid ground. “Thanks,” the girl said. I studied her: she was about thirteen years old. Old enough, in my opinion, to be trusted to walk on her own, but given her history of wandering off, I decided not to take that chance. I pulled out my trip rope and quickly wrapped it around her wrists and tied it tightly. The girl screamed and kicked, but I just kept dragging her along behind me, no matter what.

We set off down the mountain at a little after noon. I prayed we’d make it in time. Finally, after about two hours of nonstop screaming, we reached the camp. For the first time, I actually entered Camp Hopeless.

The entire camp was still gathered in the center meeting place. Rand was still tied to the post, sitting defeated with his head down. As I approached, I could hear that Chief was still at it: “You’re a known criminal!” he was saying. “We know you’ve been stealing. You’ve been seen talking to the missing child on a number of occasions!” He trailed off as I marched into their midst, dragging my prisoner. I heard a woman’s scream, half relief and half terror, and knew it could only be her mother’s though I didn’t bother to look away from Rand.

He stood as I approached, taking in my strange appearance. For a moment, I don’t think he recognized me. Then I saw the slightest smile play across his lips. I gave a slight nod in return and we knew we understood each other. I turned to Chief. He had started toward the girl and now met with the tip of my spear. By gesturing with my spear from the girl to Rand, I tried to communicate that I was keeping the girl until I knew Rand was safe.

Rand, thankfully, caught on and began to ‘translate’ for me. “Commander,” he said, “I know this girl. I’ve been trading with her.”

“Trading? What exactly?” Chief demanded. “Why would you keep something this important from us?”

Rand shrugged helplessly. “She lives alone. I don’t think she likes other people. But she won’t hurt Ginia. I think she’s just worried about me.”

I grunted and pointed from Ginia to Rand with my spear again.

“Commander, I think she wants to exchange prisoners,” Rand said.

“Out of the question,” Chief exclaimed. “If she kidnapped Ginia, there’s no guarantee she won’t come back and kidnap others. No, you’re both under arrest.”

Ginia, bless her heart, spoke up at this moment: “Commander, she didn’t kidnap me. I wanted to climb the mountain, but I got stuck on a ledge. She found me and brought me back.”

Rand added, “Commander, I think, by her laws, she’s allowed to claim Ginia. But obviously, she’d trade for me.”

Chief looked from me to Rand. “Out of the question, what kind of moral example would we be setting if we just handed you over to this savage?” This from the people who were ready to kill him without so much as a trial!

I growled and tugged on Ginia’s bound hands. I gestured once more from Ginia to Rand, then poked threateningly at Chief.

“Commander,” Rand said, “I don’t see any other way. If we try to take the girl by force, we’ll only be starting a feud. Besides, we may need to trade with her for food and goods later.”

Chief took a long deep breath. “All right.” He gestured to the men nearby. “Cut him loose.”

I lowered my spear as Rand was freed and pushed Ginia toward her mother. Rand and I made a for the tree line as fast as we could, not even bothering to gather his belongings.

When we were far enough from camp, I asked, “Are you hurt?”

“No,” he replied, “but it’s lucky you got there when you did. They were convinced I’d brutally murdered that girl. Me being a hardened criminal and all.”

“You know, you never did tell me what you did.”

He looked at me and said, in all seriousness, “Identity fraud.”

I’m sure they could hear our laughter all the way back to camp, but I don’t care.

And so Rand walked out of Camp Hopeless a hero. And I walked out a savage, but I don’t really mind much. It’s a great arrangement: the colonists will never know I’m a stowaway and Rand and I can walk in and out of camp without living there–thank the lord!

Right now, we’re busy expanding our camp for two. Then I’ll teach Rand how to find food plants, like I promised. I suppose we’ll have to teach the rest of the colonists…eventually. We’ll probably even have to tell them the truth about where I come from, so I don’t have to be a grunting savage every time one of ‘em comes around. Or better yet, we’ll just tell them I learned English over the winter. They’ll buy that; they’re not that smart, anyway.

There is one downside, though: I think my plans for having Rand breed a generation of rational neighbors just aren’t going to happen. Well, our children will just have to get used to having morons for neighbors. It’s not so bad.