![]() ![]() would they mistake my sweaty hair, now gummed into gingery ropes, for luscious worms? Would they take flight from their shadowy perches, flap down in a dusty rustling of wings to peck at me, their beaks punching through my skull to get at the wrinkly pink meat of my brain.? Alone in the woods-what could be worse? I imagined owls peering down at me from the crotches of trees. Soon I lost sight of Billy and my uncle, who were moving east while I continued west. ![]() The palm-shaped fronds of a walnut tree brushed my face. ![]() Funny how meaningful those small tender gestures can be: a friend picking burrs off your shirt, the ones you can’t get because they’re stuck in that unreachable spot on your back. I crawled underneath and came up with cockleburs stuck to my shirt, which Billy picked off. When we came to a tree that had blown over in a storm, he hurdled it effortlessly. To the west I spotted a house sitting all by itself at the top of a hill.īilly, walking in front of me, moved with fluid grace. I became aware of my raspy breath, filling and emptying my lungs. ![]() Wind hummed around the bark of the maple trees. My uncle looped a chain between the frames and around a tree, locking them with a padlock. We pushed the bikes down to a sheltering glen. ![]()
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