The Offbeat
3. If she played too rough she was sent from the solitary hut to stomp with the beasts—“Ay! ay! hie!”—though she was forbidden to wander off. Nevertheless, past the afraid times she climbed, up and up in the winter air until there was no more path, just jagged gray and her dress come off. Goosy dimpled arms in the cold, and her petticoat the color of the few floating flakes. Peter and Grandfather had spotted Heidi’s escape and were close behind when she reached the overhanging rock. They watched her scramble up as they raced to beat her, but—so quick—the wind blew her off the cliff. She felt the sudden push and went over the edge, admitting with chagrin that Grandfather was right. The wind, which she loved, was too much for her. She imagined their mouths hanging open, watching her fall to her death. But she fooled them both and flew back up with a wriggling field mouse clenched in her beak. She cocked her feathered little head as she glanced down at them, pleased to see their shocked faces.
64 | Kingman