Untitled Agenda 21 Sequel (9781476746852) Read Online Free PDF

pulled a bottle from the diaper bundle and handed it to me. Elsa quit crying and sucked on it eagerly, her eyes fixed intently on my face. The boy woke up and whispered something to David.
    â€œOkay. Bring your clothes.” David, cradling his arm, let the boy push aside the low branches of our hiding place. Together they went behind some tall, thick-trunked trees. There was no washing-up area here and no nourishment cubes. The only supplies we had were a few bottles and diapers. What were we going to do? What was I thinking? David was already injured; what if he got worse? What if they found us? What if? What if?
    A tear slid down my face but I quickly brushed it away. I had to be strong for Elsa. She took the bottle out of her mouth and squirmed, pushing herself into a sitting position.
    â€œHello, little teapot,” I said and she smiled, little bubbles of milk shining silvery on her tongue. I kissed her forehead.
    David and the boy came out of the shadows of the forest carrying something rough and brown in their hands.
    â€œTell her,” David whispered to the boy. “What I taught you. Our nature lesson.”
    â€œIt’s moss,” the boy spoke quietly but proudly in my ear. “For her diaper.”
    David nodded. “Sphagnum moss. I’ll show you how to use it.”
    I pulled a clean diaper out of our bag of supplies and David laid a handful of moss on it. I unfastened Elsa’s wet diaper and laid her on this strange-looking grass. She squealed with pleasure and kicked her pink legs, her small perfect feet, in the air.
    â€œHow did you know about this?”
    â€œI was a Boy Scout, once upon a time. Help me with my arm.”
    I tried to prop Elsa beside the boy on the soft carpet under the tree, but she leaned away from him. She didn’t want to be propped. She wanted to sit alone.
    David rolled up his sleeve. The skin along the gash was red, angry-looking, and so swollen that it looked shiny and tight. Some yellow fluid seeped along the edge.
    â€œLay moss on it,” he whispered, “and tie my shirt around my arm.”
    His skin felt hot. I tried my best to get the moss to stay in place while I wrapped his shirt around and around his arm, tying it tightly in place with the sleeves. He moved his arm a little, testing it, and the shirt stayed in place without slipping.
    Tired of sitting in a cramped position, I slipped through the low branches and walked behind a cluster of trees. There, alone in all this greenness, I knew what Father meant when he talked about the smell of growing things and how much he missed his farm. I could smell the moist dirt and the small flowers growing nearby. They were flat, round, and yellow with dark green leaves. I took a deep breath, pulling that sweet smell into me. On an impulse, I picked off one of the green leaves and chewed on it. A little bitter, but still, it tasted good.
    A bird, brown with a red breast, landed on a branch near me, balancing on two spindly yellow legs. I moved slightly and the bird flew away. A single tail feather drifted down. I picked it up and studied it. I saw how the strands of the feather fit together, and felt the firmness of the thin central spine. I ran my finger along the edge; the strands moved together as I moved my finger, and returned to their original shape when I took my finger away. Amazing! I picked a few flowers, some of the green leaves, and took them, along with the feather, back to our hiding place under the pine tree.
    The boy examined the feather eagerly, just as I had, smelling it and touching it. He did the same with the flowers, pushing his nose deep into the petals until the tip of his pert little nose was caked in yellow flower dust. He smiled and hugged me.
    We sat quietly, waiting for dusk so we could move on. Flies buzzed about and butterflies flitted here and there in the sun. The boy reached an arm out through the branches, trying to catch one, but it looped away from him. He sat