The Companion
The International School of Macao, Antoinette Cheng, Fiction: Group 2
I
t was dawn. I watched the sun slowly make its way up the mountains and onto the deep blue
sky, beams of sunlight caressing my cheeks. I shut my eyes, enjoying the warmth.
“Bolorerdene!” called my elder brother, Batukhan. “It’s time for breakfast!”
I followed Batukhan into the dining tent. It felt like walking into a swarming beehive.
Crowds gathered around feasting, blathering. But, when the chief stood up and held his hand up,
everybody fell silent.
“I’d like to remind you that we ought to be off on our journey South. We can’t be staying here in
the North because of the cold weather. Pack up all your belongings and be ready to go in an hour.”
“Batukhan! Please help me find teddy! I don’t know where it is!” I said frantically. He didn’t
even bother to answer.
I must’ve left it somewhere. But where? It was a gift from an American!
I set off alone, scampering through the desert, scanning the sands, trying to find my bear
quickly before we went South. When I finally found teddy, I sighed with relief. Happily, I ran back
to the tents, ready to leave, when I noticed they weren’t there anymore. Where were they?
They’re gone, girl. Without you, said a voice in my head.
Frozen, I felt. Not of coldness, but emptiness. I searched for footprints, none could I find; I
listened for sounds, nothing could I hear. I tried various ways to seek any hints of where they
went, but it was hopeless. I was completely lost.
I trudged on through the sand, thinking of a way out. None popped in my brain, none formed
in my mind. I sat down. Then, I saw the sun sinking beneath the mountains saying, Child, it’s late.
Go to sleep. I reluctantly lay down onto the cool sand.
It was pitch black outside when I awoke. I felt was being watched. Squinting, I saw a shadow. I
grew anxious. Standing up, I whispered, “Who’s there?” Only silence answered.
My mind was whirling like a tornado. Who was it? The shadow advanced towards me like a
ghost, lurking forward to grab its victim. I took a step back. Suddenly, a cold hand grasped my
arm. I screamed and fell. Then everything went black.
Streams of sunlight awoke me. My eyes flickered open and I saw a pair of twinkling blue eyes.
I jumped in astonishment.
“Bonjour mademoiselle,” said the owner of the eyes. “Avez-vous faim? Veulez-vous un peu de
la salade d’oeufs?”
I swallowed. “I can’t speak French.”
“Ooh!” peeped the man, “Désolé, moi mistay.”
“S’alright,” I said softly. “You were saying?”
“I says doos wansum egg-salade?”
“No, I’m fine. Not hungry.” I lied.
Though I was hungry, being lost made me feel downcast and miserable and I wanted to starve
myself. Somehow, it seemed the Frenchman could read my mind.
“Ain’t sad, petite fille,” he said brightly, “You safee wiz me! Je suis un ze best known deetektiff
in Fhance! Avery Proulix!”
“Sorry,” I mumbled, “I’ve never been to France. I’m Bolorerdene, the nomad.”
