In Wilderness Found

Chapter 7: A Pleasant Surprise

Madison spends the entire day weaving slowly through the grown-up wilderness, carefully avoiding the poison oak found everywhere. She frowns as she steps over, around, and on top of the three-leaved menace, remembering her one too many run-ins with the wild poison as a careless kid in Kentucky. A nasty rash would only make the nightmare-ish last couple days even worse.

As the sun sinks low in the sky, she’s beginning to lose hope of finding Peaches. Her ankle is still sore from her earlier fall in the creek, and it’s beginning to swell. Wandering aimlessly through the woods hasn’t been one of her brighter ideas either. She’s even more turned-around than she was before. Why didn’t she think to mark her path?

After the stark realization that her good judgement is disintegrating - and a brief wondering if she ever had any in the first place - Madison decides to take a rest.

She’s exhausted and frustrated and hungry. She’s not willing to finish off the last of her beans yet, so she decides sleep will be a good way to forget that discomfort for at least a little while. 

She sighs as she sits down onto a moss-covered patch of ground, just big enough for her to lay her body across it. The satchel is kept close to her side and she positions the pistol to the top of the bag, so that it’s easily accessible. 

Madison watches the lithe steps of a granddaddy long legs scurry across the moss beside her as she drifts into an uneasy sleep that lasts only an hour.

The unsettling feeling of being watched overtakes Madison’s senses as she wakes up. Please, not again, she thinks, remembering both of her recent unwanted visitors. Her skin tingles at the eerie sensation, and when she rises from her spot on the moss, she finds the source of the feeling only mere feet in front of her. 

A pair of inquisitive brown eyes are boring right into her. They are undoubtedly friendly, and Madison knows she shouldn’t be afraid even though she’s startled. Framed by a white and mahogany face, low hanging ears, and a wet black nose, those inquisitive eyes become warmer as Madison moves toward the creature.

“Hi there,” she says quietly, lifting a cautious outward palm in the dog’s direction for her to sniff.

The walker coonhound wiggles all over when she is spoken to, and her tongue flops out to give Madison’s hand a lick. The black and brown blotches that decorate her white body seem to flutter as she moves happily into Madison’s space.

Madison pats the dog’s head and warmth floods her from the inside as she smiles at the cordial animal. 

Now here is a companion, and not a wild one by the looks of her. The dog is obviously well-fed and cared for. Her midsection is a healthy size and her long legs appear strong and nimble, even as she lays them across Madison’s lap in an easygoing gesture.

She notices the weathered leather collar around the dog’s neck as the animal turns to take a whiff of something unseen in the air.

A hunting dog, Madison realizes with a swell of hopefulness. That means her keeper should be close by. She reaches for the collar and turns it in her fingers until she finds the EC that has been carved into the leather. She sends up a silent prayer that this EC is a kind man. 

“Do you live close by?” Madison asks her, and the hound just waggles her tail happily.

Madison gives a silly smile. “Any good hunting around here?” She questions without even feeling childish. It just feels so good to talk and not be alone.

After a few moments of friendly chatting on her end, Madison stands and stretches. It is getting late - probably 9 PM, she figures. The forest is quickly darkening around them.

“Are you going to go home?” Madison asks the hound quietly, as she reaches down to run her fingers over those brown silky ears. If the dog does take off, would it be wise to try and follow her? 

Madison doesn’t get the chance to find out, because the hound takes a few long strides back to the mossy patch, circles a couple times, and then plops herself down into a curled, sleepy ball.

>>>>>>>>>

Morning comes much faster than it had the night before. Madison realizes that she slept more soundly in the woods with a dog at her side than ever before with Abner.

A cardinal sings up above them and soft morning light threads through the trees around them. The hound stretches out her legs, her paw pads rubbing against Madison as she wakes.

“I’m thirsty,” Madison tells the dog while she stands and stretches out her arms. And hungry. She keeps that thought to herself. The jar of beans is long gone - she’d had some herself late yesterday evening and then shared some with the dog too.

Madison remembers a small brook she’d passed on her way to this spot yesterday, so she leads the way with the hound at her heels. She and her father had never used dogs to hunt with, though she knew it was commonplace. It would certainly make things easier. 

Maybe we can catch something to eat, Madison muses to herself as they reach the brook and she watches the hound jump right in and start lapping up water.

As she cleans out the empty jar and fills it with fresh water, the dog splashes around in the brook blissfully, without a care in the world. Once Madison’s thirst is sufficiently quenched, she sits on a rock and waits for the hound to join her before they depart.

“I left my home and now I’ve lost my horse. That’s why I’m all alone out here,” she says to the dog as they walk in no particular direction. The animal proves to be a good listener, because she just wags her tail and flops her tongue out towards Madison when she speaks.

The pair meander through the woods, stepping in tandem over fallen logs and around the endless vegetation. As the day heats, Madison feels the incessant bother of gnats and mosquitos nipping at her skin. A dull soreness is still present in her ankle, but she fights to ignore it, and the constant bugs prove to be a good enough distraction from the pain. 

The forest is teeming with life, and that's a distraction, too. From the wind quietly rustling through the mountain laurel to the beetles crawling across the ground, Madison sees movement everywhere she looks.

When they pass a heap of wild bluebells, that look as pretty as a painting, Madison stops to admire them. It may be a reach, but she feels that the tall cobalt flowers exude a feminine strength that she can relate to. 

“You know, there are a lot of scary things out here, but when I see something like this it gives me hope,” Madison tells the hound, who has stopped beside her. “Kind of like you,” she continues, acknowledging how much more cheerful she’s been since meeting the dog yesterday evening.

“Hey, do you have a name?” Madison asks suddenly, knowing that she probably does. When the hound just turns her head to look at her in confusion, Madison laughs. “Alright, I’m sure you do. But until I find out what it is, can I call you Bluebell?”

The dog doesn’t object, so Madison nods, and the pair slip past the flowers, continuing a seemingly never-ending journey through the forest.

The day continues as such, and Madison keeps herself occupied by talking to the dog and stopping periodically for a generous petting session. In the early afternoon, they find themselves next to a considerably large stand of trees and the hound stills beside Madison.

Suddenly, she dashes away from her and lets out a blood-curdling bark. Madison never knew such a terrible noise could come from such a friendly-natured creature.