Walk the Wild Road - Softcover

Hinton, Nigel

3.96

74 ratings by Goodreads

Softcover

ISBN 10: 1402243774 ISBN 13: 9781402243776

Publisher: Sourcebooks Young Readers, 2011

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PRAISE FOR Walk the Wild Road

"Nigel Hinton is an inspired storyteller. Leo's walk along the wild road will captivate you as it did me. This is a wonderful tale!" -Bernard Cornwell , International Bestselling author of Historical Fiction

"This is an uplifting, touching, and at times heart-wrenching novel that addresses the issues of class and religious discrimination as well as poverty." -School Library Journal

"Walk the Wild Road is more than a page-turner, it's a grip-you and hold-you yarn all the way from its opening paragraph." -Malcolm Macdonald, author

"A gripping, epic tale of one brave boy's journey into his own future...Walk the Wild Road is a million stories distilled into an adventure you won't forget." - Wesley Stace, aka John Wesley Harding

Leo took one step forward and then stopped. This was it-the road away from everything he knew. He could turn back. But then who would save his family from starvation? No, Leo was their last hope. He must go on...

The journey is not easy-he'll have to sleep on the streets, steal food, and even fight off greedy soldiers. Along the way, Leo discovers the kindness of strangers and the loyalty of friends. But he also learns there are some people you just can't trust, especially when you're on the wild road to America.

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About the Author:

Nigel Hinton was born in 1941 in Britain during an air raid. He is the author of 16 books in the UK; he is the winner of the Silver Pen Award (Holland), shortlisted for the Carnegie Medal, winner of the Children's Book Award in 1994, and recipient of the Lancashire Children's Book of the Year in 1999.

From Chapter One

Leo was the first to see the storks.

He was on the high bank overlooking his house when he heard the flapping of wings. He looked up through the bare branches of the birch trees and saw the big birds overhead.

They were flying low, as if they were going to land.

He held his breath and prayed, "Please stop. Please stay."

At that moment, as though answering his prayer, one of the storks turned its head and glanced at the stork pole that stood invitingly at the edge of the village. But the birds flew on across the track and away over the fields toward the River Netze. He watched until they were just distant black dots. Then they made a slow turn to the left and Leo's heart began to beat faster as the dots grew larger. He realized that they were coming back.

As the storks approached the village again he stood stock-still, fearing that a sudden movement might scare them away. He became aware of all the noises around him-a dog barking near the church, some young children shrieking and calling from the fields-noises that might frighten the storks.

But no, they kept coming, heading toward the stork pole, a tall pine trunk with an old cartwheel on the top. His father had built it eleven years earlier to give thanks for Leo's birth and to attract good luck for his family and the whole village. Everyone knew that a stork nest could bring harmony and fertility-babies, good crops, and healthy animals. But for all of Leo's life, the stork pole had remained empty. And instead of plenty, there had been struggle and scarcity. For three years in a row, the potato crop had failed and famine had gripped the village, carrying off the weak, young and old, with sleeping sickness. Even in the better years, not a belly in the village was ever full.

Only last year, Papa had stopped the whole family near the pole as they were walking home from the funeral of baby Karolina. He had looked up at the chattering magpies standing on the top of the pole and said, "I should take it down and burn it for all the good it has done us. Babies it brings us, only to watch them starve."

But he had not carried out the threat, and now there were storks flying toward the pole. Leo closed his eyes, willing them to land, and his heart thudded in his chest.

When he finally dared to look, the storks were perched on either side of the cart wheel. They stretched out their long necks and began to make a loud, dry, clacking noise with their beaks as if to announce their arrival and their intention to stay.

And stay they did.

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