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The motorhome looked unexceptional. Not a small van conversion, but not a huge American-type RV either, and at least fifteen years old. You look at the rear-view mirror which, since it's in the middle of the screen, shows nothing but the interior of the van. As far as you can see, it's empty - ''"Good,"'' you think as Scarlett tells you to "Turn right in 300 metres."
You put them in the big bed at the back where you normally sleep and fold down the single for yourself. There is a bit of whispering at first but it soon dies away and the sun is up before a small hand nervously touches your shoulder to wake you.


You ease off the accelerator and touch the brake to bring the van to a near stop. The road you are on is narrow enough that it would be a squeeze if you met anything wide coming the other way. You take the turn into lane that is little more than a cart track. The electric motors whine a little and the air bags hiss as you let Scarlett take over to guide you along the rutted track. You press a switch to raise the suspension as a precaution.
Breakfast is cereal with cold milk and for you, hot coffee. Once things are put away, you tell the children that they have to hide in the bed as you have no idea who might be on the lookout for them. You show them how to get into the space underneath, where you keep your bike in case anyone gets nosy. There is barely room for them, skinny as they are.


A mile further on, you stop by a steel gate with a big sign "BEWARE OF THE BULL", and you pick up the remote control from the charger in the centre console to open it. The gate swings open and then closes and locks behind you as you drive across the meadow. The hedge on your right is tall and thick, but the grassy field on your left is alive with insects, buzzing around the flowers, some of which you could even name.
After a couple of hours driving south, making a diversion around the pub where you bought them, you let them out of their hidey-hole. The military keeps at least one lane of the motorway fairly smooth and Josh surprises you by using the machine to make you a coffee while you are rolling along on autopilot. They squeeze together on the passenger seat and you point out the occasional landmark.


The meadow slopes up and when you get to the top you come to a stop. "You can come out now," you say over your shoulder. After a few moments the curtain in front of the sleeping area parts and a small face peers out. Moments later it it is joined by a second face and then the rest of their bodies. They are both barefoot and wearing shorts and T-shirts. The older child is a six-year-old boy called Josh and the younger by two years is his sister Sam.
Eventually, Scarlet, your AI pilot warns you, <small>"RIGHT TURN IN 200 METRES"</small> and the bus slows to a near stop to make the sharp turn. It's narrow enough that it would be a squeeze if you met anything wide coming the other way. Then Scarlet turns into another lane that is little more than a cart track. The electric motors whine and the airbags hiss on the rutted track. The suspension rises as a precaution to ensure that nothing important under the floor gets damaged.  


Still hesitant, they make their way forward to the front, looking around all the time. "Where are we," Josh says, reminding you that they need to lose the accent before you can take them out in public.  
A mile further on, you come to a stop by a steel gate with a big sign "BEWARE OF THE BULL", (there is no bull but it deters picnickers). There is a rusty old chain securing it, with a huge and equally old padlock. You climb over and enter a code into a small panel and, with a screech of protest, the gate swings open. You stand aside as Scarlet steers the bus through the gap and then after closing and locking the gate, you follow on foot down the side of a meadow. The hedge on your right is tall and thick, but the grassy field on your left is alive with insects, buzzing around the flowers, some of which you could even name.


"We are nearly there. Why don't you hop out and have a run around. I just have a couple of things to do," you say, getting out and holding the door so that they can scramble out after you. Josh insists on jumping down, but Sam allows you to lift her. ''"She weighs nothing,"'' you think as you put her down carefully. Her arms legs are stick thin and you are scared you might break her. They are hesitant at first, but then Sam is racing off through the grass in pursuit of a gorgeous butterfly.
The meadow slopes down and then back up. Just over the brow of the hill, the bus comes to a stop beside some old stone buildings, partly overgrown by ivy. You look back at the tracks of crushed grass, satisfied that, in a day or two, the grass will have sprung back rendering it invisible. "We're there," you say. "Hop out and have a look around at your new home."


There is a small manhole cover in the hedge and you use a tool to open it and then use it to empty your sewage tank. You go inside to flush a few gallons down the toilet and then put everything away and go round to find the children. As you watch them running around in the sunshine, relieved to be free after being cooped up in the back of your van, you reflect on how you had come this far.
They look around. "Where're the houses,"  Sam says (It sounds more like "oerr the hoozes" and you think that working on that impenetrable Scottish accent is high on the to-do list. You tell them to stand clear and, using the remote, let Scarlet park the bus. Under her control, it reverses neatly between the buildings and parks side-on at the back. You walk around opening the outbuilding doors, relieved to find that they are untouched.
 
The first building is a stable. "I'll fetch the ponies in a day or two," you say, and the kids look at you, uncomprehending. A lever raises the solar panels and you see that the batteries are fully charged so you plug the bus in on a slow charge. One building is a walk-in fridge, but that's fairly empty. You pull out the barbecue and light some charcoal. "I'll sort the kitchen out later and we can go shopping tomorrow to stock up on food," you tell them as you set about flipping some more burgers.
After you have eaten, you let the kids off the hook to go exploring. You show them the gate through to the woods behind but warn them to keep to the tracks. "Snakes," you say. "They won't bother you so long as you don't tread on them." They disappear into the undergrowth and you set about the chores. The vegetable garden is in a sorry state and your back twinges at the thought of the work you will have to do, but for now, you transfer your stock of good Scottish beef and venison to the big freezer and make a start on cleaning the bus up.
 
Sleeping on a narrow single, while the kids get your memory foam supersize double is not a long-term solution. There is room for three in there (not the first time you will have shared it) but is it right? The kids come racing back. "We saw a wolf,"  Sam screams and throws herself into your arms.
 
Josh hangs back. "It was a fox," he says and they start an argument with Sam staying snuggled up to you. It feels really good to have Sam in your arms, especially since all she's wearing is your old T-shirt and when you catch hold of her your hands go under her shirt and find her bare bottom you start thinking about sleeping arrangements.
 
*[[Wolf/Start/Home/Sam|The thought of sleeping with Sam is tempting]]
*[[Wolf/Start/Home/Josh|Let's take things slowly. Sam can have the single bed while the men share]]
*[[Wolf/Start/Home/Neither|Sleep with both kids]]


[[Category:Wolf]]
[[Category:Wolf]]

Latest revision as of 13:38, 23 May 2023

You put them in the big bed at the back where you normally sleep and fold down the single for yourself. There is a bit of whispering at first but it soon dies away and the sun is up before a small hand nervously touches your shoulder to wake you.

Breakfast is cereal with cold milk and for you, hot coffee. Once things are put away, you tell the children that they have to hide in the bed as you have no idea who might be on the lookout for them. You show them how to get into the space underneath, where you keep your bike in case anyone gets nosy. There is barely room for them, skinny as they are.

After a couple of hours driving south, making a diversion around the pub where you bought them, you let them out of their hidey-hole. The military keeps at least one lane of the motorway fairly smooth and Josh surprises you by using the machine to make you a coffee while you are rolling along on autopilot. They squeeze together on the passenger seat and you point out the occasional landmark.

Eventually, Scarlet, your AI pilot warns you, "RIGHT TURN IN 200 METRES" and the bus slows to a near stop to make the sharp turn. It's narrow enough that it would be a squeeze if you met anything wide coming the other way. Then Scarlet turns into another lane that is little more than a cart track. The electric motors whine and the airbags hiss on the rutted track. The suspension rises as a precaution to ensure that nothing important under the floor gets damaged.

A mile further on, you come to a stop by a steel gate with a big sign "BEWARE OF THE BULL", (there is no bull but it deters picnickers). There is a rusty old chain securing it, with a huge and equally old padlock. You climb over and enter a code into a small panel and, with a screech of protest, the gate swings open. You stand aside as Scarlet steers the bus through the gap and then after closing and locking the gate, you follow on foot down the side of a meadow. The hedge on your right is tall and thick, but the grassy field on your left is alive with insects, buzzing around the flowers, some of which you could even name.

The meadow slopes down and then back up. Just over the brow of the hill, the bus comes to a stop beside some old stone buildings, partly overgrown by ivy. You look back at the tracks of crushed grass, satisfied that, in a day or two, the grass will have sprung back rendering it invisible. "We're there," you say. "Hop out and have a look around at your new home."

They look around. "Where're the houses," Sam says (It sounds more like "oerr the hoozes" and you think that working on that impenetrable Scottish accent is high on the to-do list. You tell them to stand clear and, using the remote, let Scarlet park the bus. Under her control, it reverses neatly between the buildings and parks side-on at the back. You walk around opening the outbuilding doors, relieved to find that they are untouched.

The first building is a stable. "I'll fetch the ponies in a day or two," you say, and the kids look at you, uncomprehending. A lever raises the solar panels and you see that the batteries are fully charged so you plug the bus in on a slow charge. One building is a walk-in fridge, but that's fairly empty. You pull out the barbecue and light some charcoal. "I'll sort the kitchen out later and we can go shopping tomorrow to stock up on food," you tell them as you set about flipping some more burgers.

After you have eaten, you let the kids off the hook to go exploring. You show them the gate through to the woods behind but warn them to keep to the tracks. "Snakes," you say. "They won't bother you so long as you don't tread on them." They disappear into the undergrowth and you set about the chores. The vegetable garden is in a sorry state and your back twinges at the thought of the work you will have to do, but for now, you transfer your stock of good Scottish beef and venison to the big freezer and make a start on cleaning the bus up.

Sleeping on a narrow single, while the kids get your memory foam supersize double is not a long-term solution. There is room for three in there (not the first time you will have shared it) but is it right? The kids come racing back. "We saw a wolf," Sam screams and throws herself into your arms.

Josh hangs back. "It was a fox," he says and they start an argument with Sam staying snuggled up to you. It feels really good to have Sam in your arms, especially since all she's wearing is your old T-shirt and when you catch hold of her your hands go under her shirt and find her bare bottom you start thinking about sleeping arrangements.