The Featherwood Tree
I’m 32 now, and… and that day. The day I was taken. I will never forget. That day is still, so clear. I was only 15.
It was Sunday morning, dad had been gone for a few hours by then, he was out with my uncles hunting. Mum was making us kids go out and collect berries, for dinner. We were about to leave with our baskets, when in the distance we see dad, running back franticly moving his arms, and yelling ‘RUN, RUN, RUN!’
‘Mum! What’s happening.’ Zesi was tugging at mum’s shirt and pointing to dad. A massive swell of dirt starts to build up behind him. Mums face drops, she looks at Zesi and then straight too me. That’s when I knew, as the fear was all over her face.
‘Run’ she says to me.
‘RUN!’ All of us drop the baskets. While mum made sure that not one of us was left behind.
‘Quilla’ mum calls
I turn around. ‘You’re the eldest’ she screams.
‘You have to make sure you look after your sister Zesi and get your cousins to safety.’
All I could do was nod, as I couldn’t get any words out. I turn back and see that everyone was already at the river crossing, but it was higher than usual as there was a storm the previous day. I didn’t know what to do, turning back to mum she calls,
‘Run to the featherwood tree.’ That was a place mum use to take Zesi and I. We use to always go there when we were little. I remember that place so well. It would take us about half the day to get there, we use to leave just as dad was coming back from hunting on a Sunday. When we got there we use to just lie there and mum would tell us stories from when she was little. I would always fall asleep listening to her soft voice, under the shade of the tree.
‘Up stream’ I yell, starting to run.
‘To the featherwood tree.’
I am almost at the river when I hear my mothers voice ‘Remember what I told you, these people… Never trust them!’
I don’t dare to turn back, my heart is racing and all I can think about is getting us to safety. I catch up to...