Codename: SSP-57

Chapter 1 (Revised)

"Boys! Over here, look!" I whisper as loud as I dare. Chris and Noah hear my quiet words and tiptoe over as quietly as they possibly could wearing their heavy hiking boots in the thick layer of dead oak leaves. They move till they are standing slightly behind me, and peek around me and the thick oaks trees with curious eyes. Just fifty feet or so ahead of us-there were a small herd of white-tailed deer in a meadow; two big bucks, five does and two little fawns who still had their spots. They had not seen or heard us yet, thankfully. We were downwind of the deer and all decked out in camouflage; long pants, and T shirts for the boys and tank top for me, with camo ball caps. I had a camera, helping one of my little brothers, Chris, with his science project by taking pictures of the animals and land in the mountains behind our new home.

I snapped a few pictures while we watched the herd graze in the meadow, glad that both my brothers loved tinkering with electronics; they made the camera silent when taking pictures just for this. The fawns were frolicking around, playing with each other while their mothers grazed. The bucks, a bit darker in coloring and displaying large antlers, stood watch, once In awhile one would put his head down for a mouthful of the sweet green grass. One of my brothers shifted his weight, getting a bit restless standing so still, and a twig cracked rather loudly. All the deer looked at us, alarmed; I got a few good pictures before they bounded away and disappeared from sight when they entered the tree line.

"Dang, I'm sorry, my foot was falling asleep," Chris said softly.

"It's alright, I got some good pictures, and you can add that to your project," I say just as softly.

"What's that?" Noah asks.

"That deer have very sensitive hearing. And the antlers on the male deer, what those are used for. The coloring of the different ages, genders, and species of deer. We can find pictures of mule deer, black tailed deer, red stags to show the differences."

"Oh yeah! Their hooves too, don't they each have different hoof prints?" Chris asks.

"Yes they do, depending on their size and gender. Come on, let's follow this path, and see where it takes us." I wasn't worried about getting lot, I usually remember how we came in and how we can get out, and they boys have been stacking rocks and tying bright orange ribbons to tree and bush limbs to mark our trail.

We continued along the trail, being as quiet as possible, talking in hushed tones and taking breaks often to set a marker or to take pictures of various plant and animal life. We saw a few snakes; a black and yellow/white banded king snake that was about 3 foot long, two garter snakes with two pale yellow stripes running along its length, and even a sand colored diamondback rattlesnake, who we were weary around, giving it plenty of space, but it paid us no mind. In the canopy of the oak trees, we saw lively blue jays, talkative mockingbirds, and a few black and white woodpeckers with deep red "Mohawks" as my brothers call it, searching for bugs in the bark of the trees. We saw red-tailed hawks, Chris's favorite animal, soaring high above the trees, he insisted we get extra pictures of them. We saw squirrels chasing each other in a pile of boulders, calling out shrill warnings as we passed A little ways ahead of us, we saw a rust colored coyote who had angered a mocking bird; it was swooping and diving at the coyote, clawing and screeching at it. It successfully chased the coyote away, and we could hear it crashing through the underbrush with haste.

Half an hour later, about midmorning, our trail cut through another meadow, where we watched swallows swarming around, doing their amazing aerial stunts, catching bugs flying in the air. At about noon, we crested a rise and looked down to see a beautiful body of water that could either be described as a large pond or small lake, with crystal clear waters, ducks swimming around in the shallows, and fish jumping in the deep to catch the bugs above the water's surface. This is where we stopped for lunch. We sat there for about an hour more, making sure we were well rested and watching the interactions of the animals and taking pictures. Right as we were about to pack upwind start hiking again, things got dangerous.

All of a sudden, all the birds in the area went silent. The ducks on the lake took off in a flurry of wings and feathers. One lone squirrel sounded a warning, but from the safety of the treetops. Then, from the tree line, a wolf emerged. One large, raven black wolf stepped out of the trees and into the beach, and we were instantly on edge. The wolf looked around wearily, taking slow, hesitant steps to the water. Again, we were downwind of the beautiful animal and far enough away, across the lake, to risk reaching for the camera and taking a few pictures. The wolf reached the edge if the still water, and after a final look around, it ducked its head and lapped at the water. We sat there waiting, unmoving for the wolf to finish and move away. A glance at my brothers showed that they were in awe and frightened; my gaze went back to the wolf.

The wind shifted, and the wolf jerked its head up and gazed at us. Nobody moved for several minutes. Finally, the wolf backed away to the tree line, turned tail and ran. We all let out a breath we had been holding, and we stayed for a few minutes more before packing up and continued, and our path thankfully didn't continue around the lake, but up and to outs left along the ridge.

"I thought there wasn't any wolves here," Noah said quietly.

"There wasn't supposed to be. Maybe it just escaped from a zoo or wildlife rescue or something, it seemed like it was alone," I say, now keeping an extra careful eye out.

"Are there mountain lions here? James asked from behind me as we hiked up the ridge single file.

"Yes there are, but hopefully we won't ever run into one. They live here, but that doesn't mean we have to stop hiking, we just have to be careful when we go, and no one goes by themselves, right?"

"Right," they say in unison.

"The yard is one thing, but the mountain lions and coyotes will be attracted to the livestock. They will think, 'hey look fast food', we just have to be... A horse?" I say, stopping. The boys giggled.

"We have to be a horse? Why a horse, what about a goat? Or a cow?" Their titles turn into laughter, and I chuckle.

"No boys, there is a horse, standing over there, look."

By now the horse had heard us; it lifted its head, ears perked, to look at us. It had a halter on with a lead rope attached, so it must belong to someone. I handed the camera to Noah and asked Chris to pull an apple out of my backpack. He handed it to me and I approached the horse slowly, speaking to it in a low voice. When I was a few feet away, it shook its mane and approached me. It bit off a piece of the apples I offered and began it sniff me , nuzzling my clothes. When the boys saw that I had the lead , they walked up cautiously, having always been a bit fearful of the big creatures. I broke the rest of the apple in two and hand a piece to both boys.

"What are you doing out here, buddy? Where's your home? Awe man, you have twigs and mats all in your mane." Noah gave the horse his piece of the apple and began to pick twigs out of his mane.

He was a pretty boy, black with a long, thick, mane and tail of the same dark black color, big feathered feet; he was tall, the top of his shoulder reaching my forehead, and I was 5'8", but he was skinny, like he didn't by enough to eat for a few weeks. He had a kind face, and a look at his teeth showed he was about 12 or 13 years old; he seemed sound, and walked without a limp.

"What are we gonna do with him?" Chris asked, as the gentle giant took his apple.

I thought for a moment. "We'll take him with us. The trail is already turned back home, so it shouldn't be that much longer before we get back. I'll spread word that we found a horse, and hopefully someone will come forward and claim him. If not, I guess we have a horse. "