About The Scarlett Kite
Hi! I'm Scarlett Kiteway, I'm 20 years old, a journalism student in Perplex City and this is my blog all about the excitement over the search for the Cube. I'll be keeping track of what the media over there is saying about it, and maybe a little bit about my life as well!
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Friday, September 9, 2005
I'm travelling to the mountains.
Category: story, 12:24 PM
We've been travelling for a week now, but we haven't got very far. It's all in the plan - we stopped over for three nights at Elmness, to see the artiak migrations at the waterfall. And a night at Brede's aunt in Peterfitch for berry-picking and general rustic charm. We spent all day picking - and when the juiciest berries seemed just out of reach, I sat on Brede's shoulders to get them. It's been so great just to spend time together, having fun. Still, we've had three nights on the train in the past week, and four solid days staring out of the window at the scenery passing by, getting less and less inhabited, further and further away from home. I like the feeling: a combination of desolate and cosy. Outside are miles of wooded forest, punctuated by the occasional small village or town. Inside I'm sitting in my comfy window seat with my guy next to me, feet curled under me, sometimes reading but mostly just staring out. This is now officially the furthest I've ever been from the City. It feels weird. I'm not out of key range or anything, but just... I feel like I'm out of range of myself somehow. Like all that stuff that happened in the City was just a dream.
It wasn't, though. I haven't said anything to Brede, but I think someone might be following us. The night before last, at about 2am, someone tried the handle of our door. I know it could have been a train official - although I can't think why they would - or someone mistaking their room in the dark, but I don't think so. The handle turned really slowly, as if whoever was on the other side knew we'd be asleep in there and was trying not to wake us. I was awake, looking at the stars flying by out of the window, but Brede was asleep, he didn't see. I can't stop thinking about it though, that handle turning so slowly. Luckily, we lock the door at night. When the door didn't the handle was raised again, very slowly.
And then, today, when we came back to our compartment, after spending a couple of hours sitting in the restaurant, I was sure that my belongings were out of order. It's nothing anyone else would notice, but my sweaters were less neatly arranged than I'd do myself. (My sister Violet would laugh if she saw me write that, but I like to be tidy when I travel.) I've kept everything about this Viendenbourg mission on my key, though, and I always keep my key with me, so if someone was trying to find out what I've been doing, they wouldn't have found anything. I let out a little noise when I saw the disorder. Brede said:
"Is something wrong? Are you OK?"
Because he worries about me like that.
But I couldn't tell him. He'd think I was crazy.
And even more so, I can't tell him the thing I think I saw a few moments later. The trains are arranged in compartments, with a corridor to one side running down the length of the whole train, and a window in the door at the end of each corridor. This means that if you stand in the right place you can almost see down the whole train from the corridor outside your compartment. As long as there's no one standing in the way, of course. As soon as I saw that my sweaters had been moved, I went out into the corridor to see if I could see anyone nearby. I don't know, maybe I'm just paranoid. But I'm pretty sure I saw the figure of a tallish man with white hair walking away, three or four carriages further down. He turned and walked into a compartment, seemed to be saying something to someone inside. And, I'm almost sure, as he walked inside, he turned his head slightly and saw me, seeing him.