Sleek, he scavenges food. There are several new camps high up on the hillsides where soldiers live, and the only ones he avoids are the couple with dogs. The others he orbits until he sees an opportunity to slip in, steal food and clothing, and move out again. No one sees him. He is the wind, the whisper of a secret, an errant sunbeam. He likes the feel of moving through the landscape without being seen, and he likes even more the occasional turn of a soldier’s head as he or she glimpses something from the corner of their eye. It gives him a sense of comfort, in a situation where comfort is lacking.

I’m only a little boy, he thinks. I shouldn’t be out here on my own.

The noises from the valley have changed. A mile downriver from Longford there are lots of big machines, diggers and bulldozers and lorries streaming up and down the valley dumping piles of boulders and mud. The piles are growing, meeting, and from high on the hillside he can see soldiers scrambling like ants on a giant nest. Over time—days, maybe weeks, he soon loses track—the surfaces of the piles smooth out, and the undulations between them start to level.

The river’s flow has stopped. The boy finds that strange, and sad. It’s as if the blood has ceased flowing through the heart of Longford.

* * *

With nowhere else to go he remains in the valley. Somewhere deep inside, he realises that a small part of him still hopes that this will end and he’ll be able to return home. Logic tells him there’s no truth in that, as does everything he has seen and heard. But at heart he is still just a little lost boy.

Against all instincts, he decides to go back down to the town one more time.

He has been living in the hollowed oak tree. He’s made quite a home of it, with a comfortable bed of old coats in the base and a convenient look-out perch higher up inside. He has a collection of stolen clothing and food, and he has eased back on his thieving in case it is noticed. He dresses in an oversized camouflage jacket, tying it close to his body with belts, and starts back down into the valley early one morning. As dawn sets the eastern hillsides aflame, he mounts a small rise close to the town and looks down upon his old home.