Chapter Thirteen--The Traveler

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With her legs curled under her, Wendy drifted on the log raft made by the Weevie and watched the canyon walls glide slowly by. Throughout the day, the cliffs continued to fall away and the river widened, which slowed the current. Sand and rock bars appeared often, and she watched them intently as she drifted past, wondering if other Weevies used them. She didn't stop to find out, and she saw no further sign of these gentle people.

All day she scanned the rim of the cliffs for any sign of the riders, but none appeared. Hawks circled lazily overhead, sometimes disappearing behind trees and sometimes diving into the canyon only to catch an updraft and soar out again.

When the sun hung just above the western horizon, Wendy realized she was hungry. As she searched her basket for a food packet, she found the items given to her by the Weevie. One was a dagger with a black wood handle carved into the shape of an eagle. The end of the handle was crowned with a thumbnail-sized emerald and was held in place by the eagle's talons. In the late afternoon sun, the green stone's brilliance dazzled her. She turned it over several times in her hand, admiring it. The blade was buried in a black scabbard edged with a gold guard which ran the length of the sheath. She pulled the knife from the scabbard and was surprised to see that the blade was shaped like a serpent. Also, in the basket, she discovered a gold nugget the size and weight of a steel marble.

That night, stars again filled the sky, and Wendy watched as they drifted from horizon to horizon along the channel formed by the cliffs. Constellations jelled before her, and she made stories about them: a castle here, a warrior there, and a beautiful maiden needing to be saved from the silver riders. Then with a blink, the stars jumped across the sky, and dawn broke along the eastern horizon.

Wendy stretched, awakening, and looking around, she saw the cliffs were gone. They were replaced by green hills covered with deciduous trees. Along the riverbank, they grew as wide as they were tall and formed a sphere of foliage. The branches swept the ground, and in the slightest breeze, they danced like a million legs.

She remembered the Weevie's instructions to leave the raft at the end of the canyon, but it was already too late for that. The canyon was nowhere to be seen.

She pulled the blanket around her neck to protect her from the early morning chill and weighed the alternatives in her mind. Staying on the raft would be the easiest, she reasoned. She felt tired, and her muscles were stiff. If she stayed on the raft through the morning, she would have more time to sleep. After that, maybe she'd feel like walking.

Rolling into a ball, she rested her head against the basket, but try as she might, she couldn't sleep. The Weevie's words bothered her. Why should I leave the raft? she wondered. What does the Weevie know anyway?

In the end, Wendy reluctantly poled the raft toward the shore. Even lifting the pole, plunging it to the bottom of the river, and pushing against it seemed to call for more strength than she could muster.

When the raft hit the bank, she picked up her basket and jumped ashore. The action pushed the raft into the river, and she stood for some time watching as it disappeared around the bend.

In the shelter of the trees, she tied the scabbard around her waist using a leather thong. She put on the robe and placed the remaining food packet and the gold nugget in an inside pocket. She then pulled the hood over her head and slowly made her way up the hill.

A pair of wagon ruts formed a primitive road that wound among the trees along the hillside. Grass grew between the ruts and alongside the road, and fresh impressions showed someone had passed this way recently.

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