The Lost Boy

Chapter 9

"A trail!" 

Rooster grabbed the baby croc and held it gently in his hands as he leaned over Slightly's shoulder to peer at the tracks. 

"Look familiar?" Tink asked. 

Rooster squinted at the footprints, which were long and wide and had no toes, then shook his head. "Nah. Looks like boot prints. We're all barefoot." 

He and Slightly raised one foot each to show the fairy, whose nose wrinkled. 

"Alright, what now?" 

"Can we find some water?" Slightly asked, licking his lips, which were cracked. "I'm thirsty." 

"Sure, Slight," Rooster said. He looked at Tink and asked, "Can you lead us to a spring? Or a river?" 

"Yes, but we've gotta be quick," Tink said, looking up at the sky, which was growing purple. "The Never Moon will rise soon."

Rooster nodded, then followed Tink as she swooped towards the jungle. Slightly scrambled after them and fell into step beside Rooster as they entered the maze of trees. 

Rooster looked ahead, cradling the croc against his chest, to watch Tink's trail of glowing golden dust as it guided them through the dark jungle. Shadows danced off the tall tree trunks as the fairy flew through, resembling human or animal shapes that looked so real, Rooster had to glance around to make sure they weren't being surrounded. Slightly trembled, but didn't seem to notice the shadows, instead leaning over to tickle the baby crocodile's chin. 

Trees, trees, and more trees. Shadows and darkness, more alarming being the darkness growing in the sky. They needed to be quick with getting water, or else they could run into the Never Moon monster. 

Slightly's eyes were drooping, heavy bags hanging under them. It was clear that he was exhausted, noticeable in the way he walked, but he hid it well, smiling as he made the croc stretch and lean into the chin-scratching

Aching feet, parched throats and, this was new, a rumbling stomach. The jungle was quiet, as it would seem that the birds had nestled into their nests for the night, but it was an eerie quiet, as though every living thing in the trees knew what night it was, and they were all hiding. 

"Just up ahead," Tink said, her voice on edge, her tiny body tense. 

"Nearly there," Rooster told Slightly, whose shoulders sagged with relief. His lips were cracked and red, and he looked like he hadn't had water for a while, which was likely the case. 

Soon, the sound of running water. It reminded Rooster of the spring he and Codfish had found earlier that very day. It felt like that had been a lifetime ago. Slightly moaned with excitement and began to jog ahead, stumbling a little on his exhausted legs. Rooster cradled the sleeping baby crocodile against his chest and picked up speed in order to keep up with the younger boy and the pixie. 

Silence. An eerie, uneasy silence that was consistently broken by the twigs snapping underfoot, the ruffling of leaves as they were pushed out of his path. A silence that filled his stomach with a chilly uneasiness that made him shudder. The sound of running water was a welcomed relief from the silence. 

He found Slightly kneeling on a shore of pebbles, crouched over a crystal blue stream, gulping down the beautiful water. His friend moaned with pleasure, dipped his head into the river, lifted it out again and shook the water free of his hair like a drenched mutt. 

His legs suddenly trembled as he stumbled down the creek bed to Slightly's side, exhaustion from the day's journey barreling into him like an angry wave before it knocked him down and brought him to his knees at the edge of the water. He held the crocodile against his chest as he allowed the force of exhaustion to shove him face first into the water. Air bubbles tickled his cheeks as he took a large gulp of water.