One last look before we draw it

A sweeping panoramic view of the prairie: a long line of handcarts stretching across the golden grassland under a dome of blue sky with high white clouds. Tiny figures push and walk alongside the carts. In the middle of the line, seen from a little distance, Ann Rowley leans into the crossbar of one cart, her dark bonnet visible. Jane and Thomas walk just behind her, side by side. The mood is wide open and full of motion — the world is enormous and the company is moving steadily through it

A closer view of the trail at ground level. Jane and Thomas walk side by side, their hands linked. Jane's blue dress and white apron are visible; Thomas's red neckerchief flutters. Mama is a few paces ahead at the handcart, her grey bonnet turned away from them, her strong hands on the crossbar. The trail ruts run ahead into the warm haze. The mood is warm and ordinary — a family in its place in the long line

A bright, energetic spread. A small bird — brown, quick, comical — skitters along the trail just ahead of the handcarts. Thomas has broken from the line and is chasing it, arms wide, red neckerchief streaming behind him. Jane is a step behind Thomas, laughing with her mouth open, apron flapping. The handcart line continues past them on the left, indifferent. The sky is cheerful morning blue. The mood is pure delight

Jane is crouched in the tall grass a few yards from the trail, her apron gathered up like a basket and full of small stones and wildflowers — yellow, purple, white. She holds one smooth pale rock up to the light to see it glint. Thomas kneels beside her, pointing at something in the dirt. In the background, the last handcart in the line is rolling away from them, growing smaller. Neither child is watching it go. The mood is absorbed, enchanted — the world has shrunk to the grass right around them

Split mood on one illustration: on the left edge, a memory-image — small and slightly faded — of Mama's face turned back toward them, one hand raised gently in warning, her expression kind but serious. On the right, in full warm color, Jane and Thomas in the grass, Thomas gesturing eagerly away from the trail, Jane glancing once over her shoulder in the direction of the cart — but already leaning toward where Thomas is pointing. The tall grass is thick and lovely around them

Jane stands upright in the grass, her gathered apron dropping slightly as her hands loosen. She is looking down the empty trail — no carts, no people, just two ruts disappearing into the distance. Thomas stands a step behind her, staring the same direction. The light has shifted to a slightly warmer, lower angle — afternoon. The grass around them is very tall. The trail is very empty. The mood changes here — a catch in the throat

A full-stretch running spread — Jane and Thomas racing down the empty trail, Thomas's arm stretched back and pulling Jane forward, her braid flying out behind her, loose rocks falling from her apron. Their mouths are open, calling. The trail ahead is still empty. The tall grass blurs on either side. Dust rises from their feet. The mood is urgent, a little desperate — the joy is entirely gone now

Thomas stands at the bank with one foot lifted from the water, his boot dripping, his expression dismayed. The stream is wide — much wider than a child could jump — its surface broken and glinting. Jane stands on the bank behind him, clutching her apron to her chest, staring at the water. On the far bank, the trail continues — but nothing is on it. The sun is low and golden. The mood is stopped, stuck

Thomas walks along the bank, scanning the water, his red neckerchief bright against the fading light. Jane stands still on a rock, watching him, one hand pressed to her mouth. The sky above the prairie is a wide wash of orange and amber, shading toward grey at the top. Long shadows fall across the grass. The stream catches the last orange light. The mood is the first true fear — the light is going

Under a low overhang of pale stone above the stream bank, Jane and Thomas sit pressed close together in the shadows. Their knees are pulled to their chests. Thomas's arm is around Jane's shoulders. Jane's right hand is closed in a small fist — the smooth rock inside. Outside the ledge, the prairie sky is deep blue-grey. The stream glimmers faintly. The mood is intimate and quietly frightened — two small people in a very large world

The camp at evening — tents in a circle, handcarts parked, cookfires beginning to glow. Ann Rowley stands at the edge of the camp, her bonnet pushed back, her hands gripping each other at her waist. She is speaking to two children standing before her — her expression is urgent and pale. Other adults are gathering around her. The light is the warm orange of fire against gathering dark. The mood is sharp adult fear breaking through the evening calm

A neighbor's hands cup the glass of a lantern as the flame catches — a warm golden bloom in the blue-dark evening. Ann Rowley stands at the head of a small group of three or four adults, her shawl drawn tight, her eyes fixed on the dark trail behind them. The lantern is lifted high. The group moves away from the camp and into the darkness. The trail behind them is swallowed by night. The mood is determined, frightened, purposeful

Looking out from under the rocky ledge — the children's perspective. The overhang frames a patch of night sky pricked with the first few stars. The stream is a dark shimmer below. Jane's fist is visible in the foreground, holding the small pale rock. Thomas is a warm shadow beside her. The world outside is vast, dark, and very quiet. The mood is the deepest point of the story — small and still and waiting

A close, tender illustration: Thomas and Jane under the ledge, seen from the side. Thomas has turned slightly toward Jane, his arm around her shoulders, his chin resting on top of her head. Jane is leaning into him. Both faces are calm now — past panic, into a quiet waiting. The stone above them is dark. The stream sounds in the background. The mood is the courage of stillness

Jane and Thomas are upright now, staring out from under the ledge into the dark prairie. Far in the distance — small but unmistakable — a warm point of yellow light bobs between the dark shapes of the tall grass. Thomas's hand is pressed to the stone above him as he leans forward. Jane's arm is out, pointing, her face transformed — the smooth rock still in her other hand. The mood shifts from waiting to sudden wild hope

The rescue moment — full of motion and golden light. Ann Rowley runs toward the ledge, the lantern swinging in great arcs so that its light sweeps across the grass like a spinning star. Thomas is standing, both arms up, shouting. Jane is half-standing beside him, reaching out. The light falls full on their faces — golden, warm, found. The dark prairie is behind them. The mood is pure relief and joy, the biggest feeling in the book

Ann Rowley on her knees on the bank, both arms wrapped around Thomas and Jane at once — one child pressed to each side of her. Her bonnet has fallen back. Her eyes are closed. The lantern sits on the ground nearby, steady now, glowing. Behind her, two or three neighbors stand with big relieved grins. One holds a blanket just placed around Jane's blue-dressed shoulders. The mood is complete warmth — the want of the story fulfilled

A final warm, wide illustration: three small figures walking along the trail toward the glow of the distant camp — Ann in the center, Thomas on her left holding her hand, Jane on her right. The lantern is held out in front of them by one of the neighbors, casting a steady golden circle on the path ahead. The night sky above is full of stars. Jane's right hand is in her pocket, fingers closed around the smooth rock. The mood is quiet, safe, and deeply at peace — the company's campfires are warm and close ahead