Chapter Three.
The Runaways.
Next morning Firetop awoke before the dawn. He sat up at once and looked about him. Not another soul was stirring, and from the different corners of the cave came the sound of snores. The fire was burning brightly, for Grannie had been up four times in the night to put on fresh fuel. Now she too was fast asleep. Firetop crawled quietly out of the warm wolf-skins of his bed. He took one of the wolf-skins and tied it over his shoulder with a leather thong. The rest he bunched up to look as if he were still in bed and asleep.
Hawk-Eye had made a small spear for each of the Twins. They were not playthings. They were real spears, for children of that day had to learn to use such weapons while they were still very young.
Firetop took his spear in his hand and poked Firefly gently in the ribs with it. She woke instantly and would have poked back if Firetop hadn’t shaken his head at her and laid his finger on his lips. She nodded, crawled out of her bed, and bunched it up like Firetop’s. Then she tied a wolf-skin over her shoulder and took her own spear, and together the two children crept silently past the sleepers and out of the cave. They snatched chunks of meat from the remains of the feast as they passed.
It was not yet daylight, though the sky was pink above the hills across the river and all the birds were singing as the Twins came out of the cave and ran down the river path. Neither one of them spoke until they were far enough from the cave so that no one could hear them. Then Firetop whispered: “We’ll climb a tree. We can watch from the tree and see when they start. Then we’ll slide down and follow them. They won’t know we are with them until it’s too far to send us back.”
