“Maybe some ewes do have horns. Some women have moustaches.”
I could see Robbie’s logic. It didn’t answer my question, but then, I hadn’t answered his yet. The sheep chewed indifferently. We set off again, towards the tree line. The forest enlivened us, Robbie especially so. He bounded along the trail, breathing in the cool, fragrant air. I was just relieved by the shade. I tramped along, gazing up at the trees. When I glanced down at the map I called, “Veer left, Robbie,” though it seemed he would have been happy to follow his own path.
Robbie took the curve then paused without turning. When I reached him he said, “You know, William, I could live among the trees.”
“It’s… safe,” I breathed in.
“But,” his eyes grew concerned. “There are still starving people outside. We have homes, maps with trails – and yet there’s injustice. People still suffer.”
I swallowed; I didn’t want him to have to ask again.
Silently we continued along the trail; I kept an eye on the map. We came to a clearing where I stood beside Robbie looking over the hills and made up my mind. There were lots of things to be unsure about, but suffering wasn’t one of them.
Robbie squinted in the sunlight then pulled over his hood to shade his eyes.
“You’ve caught the sun,” he said. “Your neck’s scarlet, Will.”
He took off, and I followed closely behind.