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Back Daughter of Eden
Chapters (68)
  1. Title page
  2. Dedication
  3. Part I
  4. One
  5. Two
  6. Three
  7. Four
  8. Five
  9. Six
  10. Seven
  11. Eight
  12. Nine
  13. Ten
  14. Eleven
  15. Twelve
  16. Thirteen
  17. Fourteen
  18. Fifteen
  19. Sixteen
  20. Seventeen
  21. Eighteen
  22. Nineteen
  23. Twenty
  24. Twenty-one
  25. Twenty-two
  26. Twenty-three
  27. Twenty-four
  28. Twenty-five
  29. GAIA YOUNG. SUBJECTIVE IMPRESSIONS.MISSION DAY 20. 20:25 MT.
  30. Part II
  31. Twenty-six
  32. Twenty-seven
  33. Twenty-eight
  34. Twenty-nine
  35. Thirty
  36. Thirty-one
  37. Thirty-two
  38. Thirty-three
  39. Thirty-four
  40. Thirty-five
  41. Thirty-six
  42. Thirty-seven
  43. GAIA YOUNG. SUBJECTIVE IMPRESSIONS.MISSION DAY 22. 20:05 MT.
  44. Thirty-eight
  45. Thirty-nine
  46. Forty
  47. Forty-one
  48. GAIA YOUNG. SUBJECTIVE IMPRESSIONS.MISSION DAY 25. 15:30 MT.
  49. Forty-two
  50. Forty-three
  51. Forty-four
  52. Forty-five
  53. Forty-six
  54. Forty-seven
  55. Forty-eight
  56. Forty-nine
  57. Fifty
  58. Fifty-one
  59. Fifty-two
  60. Fifty-three
  61. Fifty-four
  62. Part III
  63. Fifty-five
  64. Fifty-six
  65. Fifty-seven
  66. Fifty-eight
  67. Also by Chris Beckett
  68. Copyright page

And as these thoughts were going through my head, Mary suddenly looked straight at me, like she’d noticed me for the first time. She stepped out of her circle again and walked right up to me. I was scared scared, thinking she’d be angry with me and tell everyone about some bad and shameful thing I’d done, but her face was kind and concerned. She took my hand in one of her own, and with her other hand she reached out gently and stroked my face, touching the edge of the ugly ugly hole where a proper face should be. She spoke to me softly softly.

Five

We’d heard screams in the distance, screams of terror and agony. We’d heard terrible roars We sank deep into ourselves as we headed away from those dreadful sounds, far far too slowly it felt, though we were going as fast as we could with our little kids clinging to us and our oldies and clawfeet perched on the backs of bucks so loaded up with pots and bags and skins and knives and spears they looked more like walking piles of stuff than living creatures. It seemed strange that Starry Swirl still shone down, the same as ever, and starbirds still shrieked and boomed to each other through the trees. Our whole world had changed completely this waking, but all round us, bats looped and dived, just as they always did, among the bright lanterns. We passed three huge nightmakers pushing through the trees off rockway to our left, cracking off branches as they pulled the shining flowers to their slowly chewing mouths, and far off alpway to our right, a leopard sang its sweet sad treacherous song. Eden didn’t care what was happening at Veeklehouse. It carried on its own life, just like it always had done, since long long before any human being had ever heard of the place.

All of us were scared scared. The little kids kept crying. The older kids were silent and pale and grey. Young or old, we’d all heard the stories about the last time the Johnfolk and the Davidfolk fought. We all knew how cruel the Johnfolk had been. We knew they’d stolen children from their mums and dads to be ringmen for them, and the mothers of ringmen. We knew they’d done for dads in front of their own kids, and sons in front of their mothers. We knew they’d laid traps with long spikes inside them, and dipped the tips of their spears and arrows in human shit to make sure the wounds would go bad. Even back on Knee Tree Grounds, where the Jeffsfolk had hidden away from the fight, I’d heard these stories. The Davidfolk told them and retold them all the time.