Tent World

Chapter Nine--Something Lost, Something Found

The next morning Cheryl awoke, shivering. A gentle mist fell from the sky, and a mound of black ash was all that remained of the previous night's fire. Her clothes were damp, and a fine film of moisture covered her exposed skin.

She looked about her, half expecting to see the creature that had appeared to her the night before. Had it been a dream? she wondered. In a way, she hoped it had been. Dreams only disturbed the sleep, and as fearful as some might be, at least upon waking, they were gone. The creature was gone too, but she wasn't so sure it had been a dream.

Getting up, she stretched and then moved about, trying to work the stiffness out of her muscles.

"Man," Johnny groaned, "I would do anything for a toothbrush."

"And a hairbrush," Cheryl said. She ran her fingers through her snarly hair.

Wendy and Roy stirred.

"I would do anything for a fried egg, sunny side up," Roy said, yawning.

"Uh huh, and pancakes," Wendy said. She smoothed back her hair and rubbed her eyes. "Thick ones with homemade syrup."

"You can make syrup?" Johnny asked.

"Sure, it's easy," Cheryl said as she moved toward the edge of their camp, inspecting the ground. She was looking for any sign of the night visitor.

"You can cook?" Johnny asked.

Without hesitation, Cheryl replied, "The recipe for homemade syrup is one cup of sugar, one cup of water, and a dash of salt. Bring to a rolling boil and stir occasionally. After one minute, take it off the stove and stir in a tablespoon of maple flavoring." She stopped next to a large fir. At its base were indentations in the dirt that could have been made by a foot.

"I'm impressed," Johnny said.

"Daddy makes it," Wendy said, "and we store it in a Mrs. Butterworth bottle. I would do anything for some of it right now."

"I think we should stop talking about food," Roy suggested. He rubbed his hip. "It makes me too hungry."

Cheryl knelt next to the indentations and measured them with her hand. They were roughly the size of her own feet. The toes pointed toward their camp, showing whoever made them faced their camp just as she remembered.

"What are you doing?" Johnny asked. He squatted beside her.

"Oh, I'm just wondering if we had visitors last night," she said.

"Your conclusions, Sherlock?" he asked.

"Well," she began, flashing a smile, "these look like footprints, but the mist has damaged them. I can't tell for sure."

"You know," Johnny said, "I like that."

"What?"

"Your smile," he said. "It's nice."

Cheryl felt herself blush.

The four continued following the ridge throughout the morning. Their hunger deepened as did their thirst, but they found neither food nor water. By noon they entered a broad valley floor thick with ferns and ancient firs. The sun, which had burned off the fog by midmorning, now spread its heat throughout the forest. Cheryl occasionally wiped sweat from her forehead.

"This looks like the forest around Wind's village," Wendy observed.

"It could be anywhere," Johnny said, "The forest goes on forever."