wished Kendra had come. The porcupine probably would have made her scream, and her fear would have increased his bravery. He could have made fun of her instead of feeling frightened himself. He had never seen a porcupine in the wild before. He was surprised how exposed he felt staring at all those pointy quills. What if he stepped on one in the undergrowth?
He looked around. He had come a long way. Of course, finding his way back would be no trick. He just needed to backtrack along the trail and then head west. But if he turned for home now, he might never make it back this way again.
Seth continued along the trail. Some of the trees had moss and lichen growing on them. A few had ivy twisting around their bases. The path forked. Checking his compass, Seth saw that one path went northwest, the other due east. Staying with his theme, Seth turned east.
There began to be more space between the trees, and the shrubs grew closer to the ground. Soon he could see much farther in all directions, and the forest became a little brighter. To one side of the path, at the limit of his sight, he noticed something abnormal. It looked like a large square of ivy hidden among the trees. The whole point of exploring the woods was to find strange things, so he left the path and walked toward the ivy square.
The dense undergrowth came up to his shins, grasping at his ankles with every step. As he tromped toward the square, he realized it was a structure completely overgrown with ivy. It appeared to be a big shed.
He stopped and looked more closely. The ivy was thick enough that he could not tell what the shed was made of—he could see only leafy vines. He walked around the structure. On the far side a door stood open. Seth almost cried out when he peered inside.
The shed was actually a shack constructed around a large tree stump. Beside the stump, dressed in crude rags, sat a wiry old woman gnawing at a knot in a bristly rope. Shriveled with age, she clutched the rope in bony hands with knobby knuckles. Her long, white hair was matted and had a sickly yellowish tint. One of her filmy eyes was terribly bloodshot. She was missing teeth, and there was blood on the knot she was chewing, apparently from her gums. Her pale arms, bare almost to the shoulder, were thin and wrinkled, with faint blue veins and a few purple scabs.
When the woman saw Seth, she dropped the rope immediately, wiping pink saliva from the corners of her meager lips. Supporting herself against the stump, she stood up. He noticed her long feet, the color of ivory, peppered with insect bites. Her gray toenails looked thick with fungus.
“Hail, young master, what brings you to my home?” Her voice was incongruently melodious and smooth.
For a moment, Seth could only stare. Even as bent and crooked as she was, the woman was tall. She smelled bad. “You live out here?” he finally said.
“I do. Care to come inside?”
“Probably not. I’m just out for a walk.”
The woman narrowed her eyes. “Strange place for a boy to walk alone.”
“I like exploring. My grandpa owns this land.”
“Owns it, you say?”
“Does he know you’re here?” asked Seth.
“Depends who he is.”
“Stan Sorenson.”
She grinned. “He knows.”
The rope she had chewed lay on the dirt floor. It had one other knot besides the one she had been gnawing.
“Why were you biting the rope?” Seth asked.
She eyed him suspiciously. “I don’t care for knots.”
“Are you a hermit?”
“You could say that. Come inside and I will brew some tea.”
“I better not.”
She looked down at her hands. “I must look frightful. Let me show you something.” She turned and crouched behind the stump. A rat ventured a few steps out of a hole in a corner of the shack. When she came back from behind the stump, the rat hid.
The old woman sat with her back to the stump. She held a little
He looked around. He had come a long way. Of course, finding his way back would be no trick. He just needed to backtrack along the trail and then head west. But if he turned for home now, he might never make it back this way again.
Seth continued along the trail. Some of the trees had moss and lichen growing on them. A few had ivy twisting around their bases. The path forked. Checking his compass, Seth saw that one path went northwest, the other due east. Staying with his theme, Seth turned east.
There began to be more space between the trees, and the shrubs grew closer to the ground. Soon he could see much farther in all directions, and the forest became a little brighter. To one side of the path, at the limit of his sight, he noticed something abnormal. It looked like a large square of ivy hidden among the trees. The whole point of exploring the woods was to find strange things, so he left the path and walked toward the ivy square.
The dense undergrowth came up to his shins, grasping at his ankles with every step. As he tromped toward the square, he realized it was a structure completely overgrown with ivy. It appeared to be a big shed.
He stopped and looked more closely. The ivy was thick enough that he could not tell what the shed was made of—he could see only leafy vines. He walked around the structure. On the far side a door stood open. Seth almost cried out when he peered inside.
The shed was actually a shack constructed around a large tree stump. Beside the stump, dressed in crude rags, sat a wiry old woman gnawing at a knot in a bristly rope. Shriveled with age, she clutched the rope in bony hands with knobby knuckles. Her long, white hair was matted and had a sickly yellowish tint. One of her filmy eyes was terribly bloodshot. She was missing teeth, and there was blood on the knot she was chewing, apparently from her gums. Her pale arms, bare almost to the shoulder, were thin and wrinkled, with faint blue veins and a few purple scabs.
When the woman saw Seth, she dropped the rope immediately, wiping pink saliva from the corners of her meager lips. Supporting herself against the stump, she stood up. He noticed her long feet, the color of ivory, peppered with insect bites. Her gray toenails looked thick with fungus.
“Hail, young master, what brings you to my home?” Her voice was incongruently melodious and smooth.
For a moment, Seth could only stare. Even as bent and crooked as she was, the woman was tall. She smelled bad. “You live out here?” he finally said.
“I do. Care to come inside?”
“Probably not. I’m just out for a walk.”
The woman narrowed her eyes. “Strange place for a boy to walk alone.”
“I like exploring. My grandpa owns this land.”
“Owns it, you say?”
“Does he know you’re here?” asked Seth.
“Depends who he is.”
“Stan Sorenson.”
She grinned. “He knows.”
The rope she had chewed lay on the dirt floor. It had one other knot besides the one she had been gnawing.
“Why were you biting the rope?” Seth asked.
She eyed him suspiciously. “I don’t care for knots.”
“Are you a hermit?”
“You could say that. Come inside and I will brew some tea.”
“I better not.”
She looked down at her hands. “I must look frightful. Let me show you something.” She turned and crouched behind the stump. A rat ventured a few steps out of a hole in a corner of the shack. When she came back from behind the stump, the rat hid.
The old woman sat with her back to the stump. She held a little
Similar Books
Violet Fire
Brenda Joyce
If You Hear Her: A Novel of Romantic Suspense
Shiloh Walker
The Sentinel
Jeremy Bishop
Madison and Jefferson
Nancy Isenberg, Andrew Burstein
In the Kitchen
Monica Ali
Murder in Greenwich Village
Lee Harris
Immortal Sacrifice: #4 The Curse of the Templars
Claire Ashgrove
One Day (A Valentine Short Story)
Samantha Young
Book 3 - Star's End
Glen Cook