Mountain Diaries

Wild Flowers

Bitoo knew that being found in the orchard would prove costly for him. He crept past the orchard keeper stealthily and rested between two large trees, digging himself firmly in the ground. The man walked around a bit, prodding the bushes with his spiked stick, and hearing no yelps of pain, moved back to his shack and lay down for his afternoon siesta.

Grinning, Bitoo emerged from his hiding place. It had been almost too easy. He crept along the path, noticing the trees that bore fruit. These juicy apples,he thought and smacked his lips in anticipation.

Climbing the tree furthest from the keeper, he balanced himself on a branch and started plucking the apples that he so desired. The soft chakk of the apples being plucked was like music to his ears, his hands like a seasoned musician's, the apple's surface the strings of a lyre.

When he took a bite, the juices flowed lazily down his cheek, falling falling noiselessly to the soft grass below. Enjoying every bite he took, he lost himself in the glorious taste of a ripe apple, caring for nothing at that particular moment.

However, his reverie was soon broken by a low snarl directly beneath him. As he swiveled towards the source of that snarl, the wild bush that grew on the orchard's periphery parted and a particularly grizzled dog leaped ahead, eyeing its prize in the branches above.

Fear gripped Bitoo like a vice. He had been involved in battling street curs and mongrels before, but this particular specimen made him grip the branches hard, as if doing so would drive the infernal beast away.

The dog snarled, louder now, and the keeper stirred in his cot. Bitoo was scared that the keeper would wake up, catch him by the ears, and drag him back to his home, shaming him in front of his father.
That, he could not let happen.

Breathing slowly, he plucked another apple, showing it to the lolling dog's eye's. As expected, the dog started losing interest in Bitoo and eyed the apple with fascination. Breathing deeply this time, he swung his arm in an arc and threw the apple, his target the keeper's cot.

The accuracy was unerring, and the apple landed squarely on the keeper's chest. He woke up, swearing at the disturbance when a large furry mass wrestled him to the ground. Shrieking loudly, he tried to get the object and the creature away from him, but he failed miserably and rolled around, flailing here and there.

Finally, he grasped his trusty stick and jabbed at the dog rather forcefully. With a loud yelp, the dog bounded away from the keeper, leaving the apple and red specks of blood on the grass.

Cursing beneath his breath, he moved towards the bushes the dog had apparently entered through and found a gaping hole in the fence beyond, mauled to shreds by the dog's fangs.

Fixing it by using twigs he scrounged from his surroundings, he turned towards his cot, muttering about ill fated coincidences and lack of rest.

Resting rather uneasily this time, he failed to notice that the intruder he had not been able to notice had slipped away, climbing the fence before it had been fixed, his hair covered with dirt, his pockets full of apple's and his clothes covered with petals from the bushe's wild flowers.