The Others

Chapter 4

As we walked, her leading of course, we talked. "So," I say to her, "How old is Simon now, exactly?"

"Oh, he's 18 now," she replies. "His birthday is in a few weeks, though."

"Cool."

"Yeah, I guess. He still seems like he's our age, though, most of the time."

"That's really nice. Is it like having a twin or something?"

We reach a river and hop along rocks between the rushing water.

"It is, sort of. And I feel like I can tell him anything, you know?"

"I wish I had someone like that. I mean, I have my squirrel, but that doesn't really count." Shella looks shocked at this. "You have a squirrel? Like as a pet?"

"Well, yeah. He kind of adopted me, actually. I talk to him and feed him, and he just follows me around."

"Is he around now, do you think?" she asks, curious.

"Yeah, probably," I say. "Why?"

"Could I meet him?" she asks, smirking. Our fast pace is not tiring either of us, because we're used to hiking for hours at a time in the forest. I look around as we walk. He probably would come, if I called him.

"Sure, if he'll come." I feel stupid, but I call to my squirrel. "Herbert!" I fish a nut out of my pocket and call again. "Herbert! Come here!" A chattering reached my ears and suddenly Herbert is in my hand, gnawing on the acorn.

"You named him Herbert?" Shella inquires.

"Um, yeah," I say, embarrassed. "It was the only name he seemed to like." Shella crouches to eye level with the arrogant little squirrel.

"Hi there," she says. Herbert twitches his ears in her direction and tilts his head, as if examining her. "I'm Shella," she continues. Herbert keeps staring at her, and then proceeds to hop onto her shoulder. Shella laughs, and strokes his little nose as he goes back to killing the acorn.

"I think we'll get along quite well," she says, still grinning. Herbert seems to nod in agreement, and now I laugh too.

"Yes, he seems to like you," I say, and give him another acorn as a prize. He grabs it with his greedy paws and starts peeling open this one, too. He seems quite pleased with himself.

Shella grabs my elbow to stop me from moving. I had been so caught up in my thoughts, I hadn't noticed the pile of leaves in front of me. A normal person would think it was just that - a pile of leaves. I knew better. I grin at Shella. It is a very well constructed trap. Basically, an animal or human steps on it, and it caves in to dump the animal into an inescapable pit. Clever and simple. I raise my eyebrows, and she smirks back. We take a detour, and round a small hill with old roots sticking out all over.

I am stunned at the sight before me. That is, the lack of it. Nothing was visible. It looked, quite simply, like a normal part of the woods. Only two details gave it away to me. First, the ground that was burnt from years of fires in the same place, and second, a young man smirking at the two of us, looking up from starting a new fire. I openly stare back, and take him in.

I can see how he is related to Shella. Both of them have the same honey-colored eyes with dashes of silver-grey, and both have the same dark hair. His is falling partially over his eyes, but it doesn't seem to be bothering him. He has a stance likewise to a lion as he stands up, with the same grace and menace, but I can tell that he really is a nice guy, once you get to know him. I think this is fitting as I relate Shella more to a prairie dog, with all of her excitement and intelligence. They are both from the prairie. His lopsided grin, so similar to Shella's, gives away his soft heart.