“Stop!” the man yells. He is struggling up the incline. He is not in shape, and he is jostling with his dog as they try and negotiate the narrow path, both trying to be first.

I am too quick for him. I race forward on the shallow track that weaves round the uppermost part of the cliff. It only takes about ten seconds for me to lose him. I can hear him scrambling and stumbling after me. He is using curse words I cannot write here. The anger in his voice makes me sure I do not want him to catch me!

My eyes are scanning the upcoming terrain for any kind of escape, or trick to play on him. My heart is beating really hard – I can hear the blood flow through my head. I can hear my heartbeat. It’s beating too loud for me to think.

Suddenly, I see a small, dark face pop out from behind a rocky outcrop on my left. It’s the face of a young boy, but the dirt on his face and intense eyes make him seem older.

Not that I can stop and think about any of this at the moment. I can hear the laboured breathing of the fat, straw-haired policeman and his barking dog literally on my back.

“In here!” the boy whispers urgently, and without thinking about consequences, I take his order. He is hiding in a very shallow gap between the rocks. The fissure is thin and long, with little space to stand. Still, it’s a good hiding place.

I find myself standing shoulder-to-shoulder with this absolute stranger. He is breathing heavily too.

“Who are you?” I hiss, desperate to make sense of what is happening.

“Shh!” he whispers back, with the same urgency in his voice.

I hold my breath as I hear the policeman draw closer. He is walking cautiously now, as if he knows I am nearby.

“Little girl … little gi-i-irl…” His voice takes on a sweet, gentle tone that I know is fake. He’s trying to make me relax, think that he is just a nice, uncle-like, friendly guy. I’m not fooled. I keep as silent as a grave.

He stops. He is about five or six metres away. Through a crack in the stone fissure I am hiding in, I can see his shoes, which are black, and not very well polished, plus the beginning of his trousers, which are a boring blue. My eyes are locked on his shoes. If he gets the idea to come closer to the gap, I’ve had it.

Suddenly the dog barks. Not at me though, I am grateful to discover.

“What do you see, boy?” the man asks the dog. The dog seems to be tugging him forward, past our hiding place. “Did you see her boy? Show me!”

They move off. The dog is probably chasing a dassie or mouse or something. Stupid policeman. My breathing calms.

The boy next to me. I’d almost forgotten.

I creep out of the space. He follows and looks in the direction the policeman has gone.

“He’s not coming back,” he says, thoughtfully.

“How do you know?” I ask. My voice sounds peevish and annoyed. I don’t know why. I guess I’m just scared and everything feels threatening.

He points to his ear. “Ek kan maar hoor, I can hear,” he says, with a grin.

It’s only now that I can take in his appearance. He looks like the kind of boy who has got into too many fights. He is missing one of his front teeth. His clothes, if you can call them clothes, are filthy. They look like sacks that have been stitched together with string or something. He has some kind of cape or satchel on, the strap of which makes a diagonal across his chest. He has no shoes, and his toenails look long and sharp.

To my immense surprise, he folds back his cloak to reveal a crossbow. I have only ever seen a crossbow in movies about Robin Hood and things like that. This one is made of wood and looks hand carved.

He threads an arrow to the string and aims it at me.

“You’re coming with me,” he says.

I am so surprised by his order that I laugh – a short, shallow bark. He regards me with eyes slit, dark with concentration.

“I mean it, girl. Walk in front of me with your hands on your head.”

He comes toward me, crossbow still aimed at my head. He snatches my backpack out of my hand. “I’ll keep this. You’ll get it back later.”

I am defiant. “You can’t capture me. It’s illegal to kidnap someone. There’s a cop looking for us, remember?”

He lifts his crossbow up, letting the sun glint off the steel arrowhead. “I’ll shoot him in his leg. He won’t be able to catch us then.”

Then something horrible happens: I believe him. His wild eyes, his dirty hair, his look of animal hunger – I don’t doubt that he would shoot someone if he needed too. I suddenly feel colder.

“Start walking,” he commands, “and no funny stuff.”

I hate him now. I would jump on him, claw his eyes, strangle him maybe – but I am scared of his weapon. I don’t want to die in a stupid fight on a mountain with a half-wild kid. Not today. My cheeks burning with humiliation, I start to walk. Anger pulses through me like molten lava. Everything is starting to feel very real. Too real.

We walk, him about two metres behind me. I say nothing. I’m afraid if I talk I will cry and I don’t want him to know that I am scared. I don’t want to give him the satisfaction.

We start to move downhill. The terrain becomes less stony, and more woody. Insects are humming. The last of the sun is touching the leaves. If I wasn’t as tense as a spring, I could enjoy it. But I am scared I might soon have to fight for my life.

We’re now in a valley. Ferny cliffs descend to what must have once been a river, but is now just a shallow canyon.

“Stop,” instructs the boy. I have no choice but to obey. He then makes a bird sound, then another, then a third. One is a dove; I can’t identify the other two.

I then see the most miraculous thing ever. An entire wall of ferns starts to roll up like a roller-blind. I can’t believe my eyes. I haven’t seen anything like this before. The curtain of ferns and grasses rolls higher, higher, revealing a huge cave mouth, about the length of a car. A hidden cave. A cave hidden by this clever curtain. Who made it? What is happening?

He points to the cave mouth with his arrow. “In,” he says, and there is no room in his voice for discussion.

At this point I’m so tired and overwhelmed, I don’t even know if I could fight him. I’m too confused to think about anything other than lying and down and sleeping for, like, three days.

I duck my head and enter the inky darkness.

***

Tell us: Have you ever known anyone who was abducted or kidnapped?