Road of the Raven

By Alexandra Wood

"You were looking for a beginning while I was looking for an end, but our paths still crossed."

 

Home has never signified freedom for Thora, but if she can reach the Pacific Coast, it might. Even though she's escaped the walls of Genesis, her overbearing father, and cold fiancé, Thora's determination can only get her so far. A thousand-mile trek separates her from freedom, as do the hunters intending to take her back.

 

But the land isn't only full of danger. When Thora crosses paths with Zeke, their differences at first set them apart, but they eventually forge a bond that leads them to a place neither was expecting. 

 

It leads them home.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Alexandra Wood
• Release date: Oct 6, 2023
• ISBN: 9798988782728

Alexandra Wood

Alexandra Wood is a UK playwright whose plays include: an adaptation of Kate Summerscale's The Suspicions of Mr Whicher (Watermill Theatre, 2023); The Tyler Sisters (Hampstead Theatre, 2019); The Human Ear (Paines Plough, 2015); Ages (Old Vic New Voices); an English version of Manfred Karge's Man to Man (Wales Millennium Centre); Merit (Theatre Royal Plymouth, 2015); The Initiate (Paines Plough, 2014; winner of Scotsman Fringe First); an adaptation of Jung Chang's Wild Swans (ART/Young Vic); The Empty Quarter (Hampstead Theatre, 2013); The Centre (Islington Community Theatre); Decade (co-writer, Headlong); Unbroken (Gate Theatre, London, 2009); The Lion's Mouth (Royal Court Rough Cuts); The Eleventh Capital (Royal Court Theatre, London, 2007) and the radio play Twelve Years (BBC Radio 4). She is a winner of the George Devine Award (for The Eleventh Capital) and was the Big Room Playwright-in-residence at Paines Plough in 2013.

Book preview

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Thora was close. Mere feet away. The end was in sight. But it wasn’t an end so much as it was a beginning. Then again, the line between ends and beginnings had always been blurred for her, and this one was no different.

Before her lay a beginning with an uncertain end.

Thora snuck a glance over her shoulder to avoid arousing suspicion. Night was falling, but she continued her evening stroll in the residual warmth, just as she had done since the late spring sun defrosted northern Wyoming weeks ago. The guards, surely, were used to seeing her out around this time. Curfew wasn’t for another hour, not until the sky was canvased with stars.

Crimson waves danced overhead, and the setting sun ignited the open plains. A copse of pine trees stood proud in the distance, their shadows blending into the darkening evening. Thora only had to reach them. She would hide there until she could start her journey disguised in darkness.

But first, she had to make it over the fence.

Guards were posted inside her compound, always dressed in plain clothes. Residents were told this was because the guards needed to watch for threats beyond the perimeter, which was best done in disguise. People chose to remain inside the community as they were reminded frequently. But Thora had lived within these walls for a decade, and she never saw anyone leave—willingly or otherwise.

Not until now.

Thora’s plan had developed out of chance. One night a few months ago, she padded downstairs for a glass of water and heard her father discussing plans with other members of the Genesis Reformation Party. Maybe if she hadn’t overheard them talk, she’d be tucked in bed right now, preparing to marry Mason Scarborough.

But she had overheard. Thora knew what was happening tonight. As she’d watched the bushes and trees bloom around the compound during her nightly walks, her plan, too, had reached fruition.

This was her chance to escape Genesis.

Cameras were stationed around the compound—another attempt to ensure residents were protected from outside threats, despite that over half were directed inwards—but thanks to her father, Thora knew the locations of the ones that mattered. As a high-ranking official in the Genesis government and a specialist in public policy, Thomas Loffrey knew the ins and outs of the compound and sometimes liked to impress upon his amenable daughter his wealth of knowledge.

Daylight was fading. Thora pretended to smell the buds of a flowering bush, stepping off the cement path just as she heard it. An engine. It whirred through the still evening louder and louder until her ears thrummed.

The guard pacing in the vicinity turned to the approaching truck, instantly veering from his post and heading toward the gate. Hope sparked inside her at the thought that her plan just might work.

Thora’s heart ricocheted inside her chest as the guard walked past, but her fear was proven unfounded as he paid her little attention. She never had trouble blending into the background.

Thora pretended to smell the flowers as all the guards streamed to and waited by the gate, the only exit on the compound she’d only been through twice. The pounding in her ears now had nothing to do with the diesel truck full of supplies and government officials from headquarters. Her blood was wildly pumping because the moment was almost here.

She heard rather than saw the gate opening as she was tucked off to the side and hidden. Headlights showered the inside of the community. Thora stood against the fence and placed her hand on her belly, making sure the small satchel with supplies was still strapped around her midsection, concealed beneath her flowing skirt.

And then the moment arrived. The truck pulled forwards, and all the guards lined up in front, saluting the truck full of officials as per custom. Their tradition would grant her escape. In the seconds she was given, Thora quickly slipped off the bag from under her dress and stashed the kitchen knife she’d stolen and hidden in the bush days ago. After taking a steadying breath and ensuring no one was watching her, she tossed her bag over the fence. It landed on the other side with a thud, and she knew she would be next.

Chancing one last glance at the guards in the distance, still completing their salute, Thora located the notch in the wood of the fence she’d discovered long before she’d conceived her plan, planted her booted foot inside, and hoisted herself upwards. In one heart-pounding motion, she flung her feet over the side and hit the solid ground. Ground she’d never felt before of her own free will.

For a moment, she stayed crouched with her back pressed against the fence. Her ears rang like a gun had just been shot behind her as she tried to catch her breath. But no one came after her. There was no sound other than the idling government truck. She trusted that she had remained out of sight of the cameras; her father wouldn’t have lied, nor would he ever believe his daughter capable of plotting such an escape. The land stretched far and wide before her, blending into mountains silhouetted beneath the purple sky.

Thora had never seen anything so beautiful. She’d stared at the horizon almost every night from inside the compound but had never seen it like this. But if she wanted to see the glittering lavender sky like this again, she needed to run.

Gulping a breath, Thora felt her bag to make sure her knife was still inside. Without a single look behind her, she dug her foot into the tough ground, pushed off the fence, and sprinted toward the nest of pines. With stinging lungs, she ran—and ran and ran. She never once looked back; her eyes were fixed on her destination. The truck hissed behind her, but her feet kept moving. Her lungs were on fire, but she wouldn’t stop now.

The air was cool as she approached the trees, like she’d waded into a pool of water. It washed over her clammy skin. Finally, Thora entered into the safety of the trees, veiled from sight until the night was dark enough to travel unseen. Her father wouldn’t discover her absence for another two days, as he was at headquarters while Baron Langley, their compound’s governor, acted in his stead. The house staff believed her to be staying at Annie’s, which she ordinarily did when her father left the compound for business.

But in two days, Thora would be long gone. Tonight, she would walk almost twenty miles across the open plains towards the remains of the Crow Reservation, a place not nearly as governed as her community’s compound, and stock up on supplies.

In two days, Thora would be on her way to the Pacific Ocean, where no one she had ever known could find her.

This was both her end and beginning.

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Thora had never walked so far in her life. The most she was allowed was her daily strolls around the compound, which had turned into evening strolls in the last month to fortify her escape plan. Annie often walked with her, and once, they had been so caught up in a conversation about Henry Becker they walked around the entire compound three times. Though Henry, Thora thought, was now a figure of her past.

So was Annie, but that thought caused a deep ache in Thora’s chest. Annie had been her only true friend on Genesis, and though she would miss her terribly, Thora was determined to keep walking this unmarked road. Had she stayed in the compound, her life would have ended.

Though she’d been outside the compound before, the opportunities had been scarce, and each instance had only found Thora in different compounds around Genesis. With her family, she’d been to headquarters in Lincoln, Nebraska for elections, and she’d traveled to Minneapolis a few years ago at the prospect of her father relocating there for his position. However, President Walker had decided to keep her father where he was in northern Wyoming, just below the Montana border, and Thora—if she wasn’t so set on reaching the Pacific Ocean—would have been deeply sorrowed. Had they been stationed in Minneapolis, the furthest eastern city in Genesis, freedom would have been much closer.

But Thora must reach the Pacific Coast, and, besides, from what she remembered, the Minneapolis compound was far more guarded and reinforced than their comparatively small compound. The lands she walked still belonged under Genesis’ rule, but the vastness was hard to control when the population was minimal. She counted on this very fact to ensure her safe passage to the coast.

Freedom was beyond the Cascades, though no one talked about it around the compound. It was a secret told to Thora by her mother, who had mentioned the sanctuary that existed along the Washington coast not long before she passed. During those first aching weeks following her mother’s death, Thora had found the proof required inside her father’s study—a place she was not allowed—on a day when the pain had reduced her ability to decipher right from wrong.

One document had been all she’d needed. It proved the coast was a place for those unwilling, unfit, and unable to belong to Genesis—how, though, she was less certain, but Thora chose not to dwell on this particular unknown—and they resided along what Thora envisioned were sandy beaches in sun-basked houses. They didn’t have to endure the slow suffocation of an impassable wall.

But Thora had passed the wall, and when she arrived at the coast, she hoped she’d be welcomed.

First, though, she needed supplies.

The night looked far different in the woods than it did locked inside the compound. The darkness touched everything, enveloping Thora. Panic threatened to overwhelm her as she attempted to orient herself to the looming journey before her, but it soon gave way to levity, during which the uncharted quality of the land stirred something similar inside her.

Thora walked. The Crow Reservation was directly north of the compound, and so long as she continued straight, she should run into it. At least, that was what she told herself. She didn’t have a compass or much knowledge of celestial navigation to direct her, but as long as she kept off major roadways, she would be okay. Vehicles were prohibited and only driven by officials on government business. Staying clear of the roads would work to her advantage, and hopefully, she would remain unseen until she arrived at the reservation to collect the supplies she needed.

So she walked.

A dull ache pulsed through her feet with each step. The laced boots the women wore in the compound were practical but not meant for long excursions on foot. The sides of her feet were tender, and her body was already sore with such foreign exertion, but she knew, based on how long she’d been walking—just over six hours—that she must be getting close.

Thora tucked her mother’s pocket watch beneath the bodice of her dress, feeling the cool of the metal locket against her chest. Stopping to rest her feet, she slipped the satchel off her shoulder and withdrew the canteen of water, taking a large drink and wiping the sweat from her brow.

Something rustled in the distance, and Thora froze. Her eyes sharpened for any movement, but the still night was all she could see. Darkness and shadows. A prickling sensation crawled up her spine.

More rustling.

Thora turned towards the noise but only saw open land.

But something was there. The night was calm. There was no wind to account for the noise, and Thora stood as still as she could as if this would disguise her from whatever it was. She slowly withdrew her knife from the pocket on the side of her pack, unsure how to use it but desperate for some form of protection.

Something wooshed by Thora and caused her to jump, and she nearly dropped her knife in her panic. In front of her, something landed, and she clutched her knife as she squinted to make out what it was.

A raven. Black as the night. The moon beamed off its glossy feathers.

Thora stared at the massive bird in shock, and it stared back at her.

While it had frightened her, a raven was hardly cause for concern, and so, with her pulse returning to normal, Thora continued walking. But, again, the raven bounded until it was directly in her path. She stopped and stared at the bird. It remained perfectly still.

Hesitating this time, Thora stepped to the left and around the raven, proceeding forward, but the black bird hopped in front of her mere feet away. It ruffled its feathers but remained poised.

Was the raven blocking her path? As if it had read her thoughts, the raven extended its wings and cawed, and the sound in the silence sent a jolt through Thora’s chest until it reached her fingertips. She was unable to stop watching the bird as it moved to her right and out of her path.

But Thora didn’t believe the raven was stepping out of her way. This was different. It was showing her something. Slowly, she started walking toward the raven, noticing that her feet no longer ached as they had been. The raven kept moving to the right, and Thora followed until the bird took flight and disappeared into the inky night, letting out its familiar caw as they parted ways.

Thora walked in this new direction until blue light illuminated the horizon, which was soon washed away by the orange glow of the sunrise.

Finally, when the sun was hanging in the sky, the outline of a town appeared in the distance.

She’d made it to the reservation.

Thora took the final drink from her canteen before walking any closer. The people living on the reservation belonged to Genesis, but there wasn’t much governance here. At least, not like it was on her compound. Or so she’d overheard.

Her father’s position required him to deal with the involved and intricate relationships of the people outside of their compound, most of which were with the Native Americans living in many areas under Genesis’ rule. When Genesis had first swept through the country, many people had fled south—foolish people, according to her father—but many Native Americans remained on their reservations.

When Thora was young, a girl named Katina had come to the compound as part of a charity the Lancasters, her family’s neighbors, ran. Thora could still remember how the girls in her class gawked and giggled at the timid girl with long, dark, wild hair standing before them. Katina stared as well, but it was a different kind of stare. Thora envied Katina because, to her, she looked free.

A few years later, she’d visited Mrs. Lancaster to help bake for the annual Genesis celebration, and, plucking a bit of courage, Thora had asked, What happened to that little girl that you and Mr. Landcaster took in?

Who? Mrs. Lancasted had said.

Katina. She had the most beautiful hair.

Recognition sparked in Mrs. Lancasters’s eyes. She promptly returned to rolling out cookies and tittered, Girls your age ought to think only of things that concern you.

At eleven, Thora didn’t understand what this meant.

Seven years later, Thora wasn’t sure she understood entirely, but she had come to realize how wrong she’d been for assuming that Katina was free. No one living inside the boundaries of Genesis was. The snippets of conversation she’d caught from her father had proven that those living outside of the compounds inside Genesis were still prisoners, just in a different sort of cage.

While it may not be as governed, Thora had heard that the reservation was highly populated, and the residents worked for Genesis. In truth, she wondered what kept them there. If she had the chance to leave Genesis, she’d like to think that she’d have taken it a long time ago. However, this worked in her favor; the reservations were not as governed as the compounds, and surely there wasn’t as much control asserted over the women living there.

Thora could only imagine what a sight she was. Her boots were dusty, the hem of her skirt was discolored, and her braided bun was unkempt, a few honey strands falling around her chin. She didn’t even want to think about the state of her complexion, but as she approached the small gathering of buildings, Thora realized that her appearance might not be her biggest problem.

Lines of people snaked from each building, warehouses built from sheet metal, and as she grew closer, she noticed that each was dispensing specific objects. Food, clothes, and other necessities were being handed to those in line, almost all with skin and hair as warm and dark as Katina’s had been.

It wasn’t the scene Thora had envisioned. She didn’t quite know how to make sense of it, but even though she stood out, she hadn’t walked twenty miles overnight to stand at a distance. Thora needed supplies for her journey. She needed to reach the safety promised along the coast.

After sucking down a breath, Thora stood at the end of a line.

The looks arrived quickly. She felt each one like it carried weight, but she refused to be buried underneath them. Thora had a mission and could endure minutes of discomfort if it got her what she needed. According to her calculations, her journey would take close to a month if she walked around twenty miles per day. She’d need food, but she could collect water as she traveled. More food, a fire starter, cooking equipment, and a map would be necessary, and while an itch inside Thora’s ear told her that she was severely underestimating what she’d need for over thirty days, she ignored it. Now was not the time to lose steam. Besides, the blanket, some bread, and a canteen for water inside her pack were enough to get her started.

She would begin in this line and pay for whatever items would help her or ask to be directed to where she could find what she needed, hoping that no one questioned what she was doing there.

The line moved slowly.

Thora gripped the chain carrying her mother’s pocket watch and held her head high, doing her best to ignore all the curious glances. She wondered if this was how Katina had felt all those years ago, bombarded by stares and whispers.

After what felt like hours, she was second in line. A little girl no older than ten, who Thora had assumed was with the couple in front of her, approached the stand by herself.

I need five pounds of flour, dried beans, and your largest sack of rice, the girl said at the man operating the stand in a voice reminiscent of someone much older.

Ration card? the man, a Native American, inquired.

I don’t have it.

Money then?

The girl paused. My family is entitled to what I’m asking for once a month.

Yes, the man said disinterestedly, drawing a breath. With a ration card.

I already told you that I don’t have it.

And I already told you that you need money then.

The exchange baffled Thora. Why wasn’t the man giving the little girl the food she was asking for? And why were ration cards necessary? There was ample food on Genesis, and it had never before been rationed.

Please, Roy, I have three younger siblings, and my mom’s sick. My dad was sent to Wind River for work, and he accidentally took the ration card with him, the girl begged, the desperation in her voice reflecting her young age. I need this food.

For a moment, Roy looked to be giving in to what Thora found to be an entirely reasonable plea. His shoulders sank as he sighed. Look, kid. It’s strict rules nowadays. You know this just like I know your mama does. No ration card, no food.

So we’re just supposed to starve?

I can’t help you, Roy said, tightening his jaw.

Thora decided she had heard enough. She was tired, worn and only wanted to get on her way.

I’m sorry, but you won’t give a few sacks of dry goods to a hungry little girl? she asked as she stepped up to the counter.

Roy widened his eyes in disbelief. Thora never spoke out of turn, and at first, she believed his shock was because women weren’t supposed to speak up within her community. But then she remembered where she was. Surely, the man was equally shocked, if not more so, by the color of her skin.

It’s not how things work, he stated, narrowing his eyes inquisitively.

Maybe it was hunger, thirst or sheer exhaustion. Maybe it was years of pent-up aggression at being controlled her entire life. Thora wanted to argue with him, but she decided against it. She took a deep breath and reminded herself that making a scene wouldn’t benefit her. She needed to remain invisible, but her appearance made it difficult.

But Thora couldn’t let this go. She dug into her pack and pulled out a thin stack of dollar bills.

She slid the money to Roy. Here! Give her what she asked for.

He stared at the money as if he’d never seen it before. I can’t take this.

Why?

Eyeing the money before glancing over his shoulder, he said, You’re in the wrong place.

I’m in the wrong place with needs and the money to pay for them? Thora retorted bravely, keeping her chin up.

Roy further narrowed his eyes. What’re you doin’ on the rez?

Buying supplies.

Why?

Thora’s heart pounded. That’s no concern of yours.

Beneath a quizzical brow, Roy watched her, and for a panic-stricken moment, Thora thought it was all over. Weeks of planning, jumping the fence, bolting out of sight, walking twenty miles, believing things would be different on the reservation… They were all for nothing.

But then Roy said, Your kind don’t buy here.

"Excuse me?

He looked at the money and nodded to her. "Your kind doesn’t buy here."

Okay. Then where do I buy what I need?

Roy glanced over his shoulder again. Thora attempted to see what he was looking at, but before she could, he answered quietly, Down the side street there. He motioned behind him. There’s a facility where you can get what you need. Not here.

Thora was agitated by his remark. It reminded her of what she’d been taught on the compound: people were not all created equal. Now this man was insinuating that she was different from the others around her. And maybe she was in both experience and nearly everything else, but did that really warrant the separation of purchasing supplies? Was she really any different—any better—than the little girl beside her?

Okay, thanks, Thora said, immediately wishing she could erase her polite remark. But that doesn’t solve the other problem. This girl’s family needs food.

Her family needs a ration card.

But I’m giving you money to pay for what she needs.

That’s not the— A loud crash sounded, bags of rice spilling to the ground, and someone took off running. Roy snapped to the side. "Hey! Hey you! Stop! You can’t—someone stop him!"

Thora whipped in the direction of the commotion, spotting a guy around her age with thick, black hair and hooded eyes as dark as the night she’d survived. With a backpack full of what she assumed was stolen goods, the guy darted off into the throng of people in lines.

Unable to leave his post to protect the goods stored behind him, Roy pointed and shouted at the guy as he weaved between people. Thora’s jaw dropped as she watched in disbelief the guy spryly squeezing between two women holding bags.

He was going to escape, and Thora took great pride in this even though she didn’t know him. But then she saw two large men in the distance. They reminded her of the guards posted around the compound. The guy saw them, too. Quick on his feet, he sprinted in a zigzag but was slowed by a cluster of people. The guards seized their chance and quickly closed in on him. The one to the right had nearly reached him.

Thora braced herself as she watched the guy spin out of reach of the guard’s grasp, only to crash right into the clutches of the other. Within a second, the guy was constrained in a tight hold, his arms behind his back and his backpack stripped from his person.

Why couldn’t you just leave it alone? the little girl said, her voice much stronger than before. We had a plan.

Nonplussed, Thora dropped her chin towards her to find her mouth hardened and anger burning inside her eyes.

W-what? Thora stammered, dazed, and, after huffing an irritated sigh, the little girl stormed off into the crowd of people now watching the scene.

Thora stepped away from the