Ned dipped his eyes. He hadn’t been going to Telle’s as much as he should have been. He’d meant to, but lately there had been too many mornings that held soft winds, irresistible winds, and he’d hurtled riverward, telling himself that he’d go trapping and shooting at Telle’s the following day, only to wake up the next morning and find himself again unable to do anything but sail.

‘Sorry. I’ll be back tomorrow.’ Even as he said it, even as he knew it was the right thing to say and do, he regretted it. Over the recent mornings he’d become more confident in his skills, more assured. In the favourable conditions the boat had glided over the water like a limber skater, responding to his touch with an intuition of its own. Knowledge leaping from the wood. He’d begun plotting a longer trip, an overnight voyage that would take him past daggered reefs, past heads, past the last whirlpool. One that took him somewhere he could view a flat horizon. Somewhere he hadn’t been in a decade: the river mouth.

‘No need.’ Telle gave him a forgiving smile. ‘Haven’t seen a rabbit in days. I think they’ve had it. Seems like the ones you didn’t account for were taken by this heat.’

‘I must still owe you.’

A small shake of her head. ‘Best tomato crop I’ve ever had. Debt’s settled.’ She shifted her eyes to where the land sloped and dipped. ‘Although I wouldn’t mind having a look at this boat I keep hearing about.’

~

Telle wasn’t the only one who wanted to see the boat. A steady stream of people had been coming to Limberlost for over a week. At first Ned had been confused—how did they know about it? Who had told them? When Jackbird revealed that he may have mentioned the boat to one or two people, which Ned knew really meant ten or twelve, his confusion shifted to anger. Not at Jackbird—Ned knew his tongue could not be trained or halted—but at the attention. The boat was his, nobody else’s business, something for himself and his sister. For his father, if the old man ever wished it. For his brothers.