Excerpt from TRUE NORTH
by Kathryn Lasky
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Chapter 13
April 17, 1858
At the end of Choptank River,
South of Camden, Delaware
The night welled up around her in all of its sweet, dark glory. Afrika loved the shadows, the purpling of the twilight sky, the promise of the blackness to come, and now, finally, it was here.
She had waited not just one night but four at the edge of the woods at the end of Choptank for the moon to begin to wane, for the clouds. The nights had been brilliant, cloud clear and star bright. The North Star had burned with an intensity that bore right into her skull, into her brain, into her mind’s eye. Blindfolded and turned around one hundred times she could find that old star, but there was no way she could cross this open field washed in moon light. For too many miles she would be exposed.
She had passed through clearings before. Always, one had to count on coming upon a spot in the thick woods where there was a clearing, but never had there been one this broad. So she waited patiently with her dwindling food supply, nursing her growing hunger for freedom. Now the right night had finally come, and oddly enough, Afrika was not ready. She clung to the darkness the way she had clung to Mammee Bert in the night. But she had to leave now. She could not wait another minute, not another second. The grass was tall, and if she had to, she would crawl on her belly and snake through it. That would be cover enough. On the far side of the field, Mrs. Page had said there were reports of haycocks, the bundled hay that stood in Fields after it had been cut. So they, too, would offer her a hiding place.
From True North. Copyright © 2010 by Kathryn Lasky.
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