Alabama Moon (15 page)

“Great,” Hal said. “In the middle of nowhere with a mountain lion.”

“It won't hurt us. Pap said I was too big.”

“That boy in
Old Yeller
was about your size,” Hal said.

“That's just a made-up story. Pap knew about animals.”

“All right, you fight it then,” Hal said. “With that knife of yours.”

Kit and I smiled at each other and started down the other side of the ridge. Just before the sun fell below the forest canopy, we stopped and sat on a log to rest. I looked around and studied the trees. “This is a good place,” I said. “We'll camp here.”

“Finally!” Hal said. “What's for supper?”

“Snake and dressin'.”

Hal looked at me. “Snake!”

“Snakes are good,” I said. “There may be some out since it was so warm today. I'll make some pine-needle tea to go with it.”

Hal spit at the ground. “I ain't eatin' any damn snake. It was bad enough eatin' fish out of your old sock.”

“I'll eat some,” Kit said.

“Come on,” I said to Kit. “You can help me. Hal, there's a white oak tree over there. You collect some acorns from under it while we're gone.”

“More acorns . . . What about real meat?” Hal asked.

“We're gonna get some soon,” I said. “We'll have all the good food we need once I rig some weapons.”

Hal rolled his eyes and sighed. He got up and dragged his feet in the direction of the oak tree with the dogs following. Kit and I set out through an open stand of old pine trees. After a while, I found what I was looking for. I showed Kit a longleaf pine filled with holes starting about fifty feet from the ground. From each of the holes sap ran down the tree, making it look like a giant candlestick.

“Those holes were made by a red-cockaded woodpecker,” I said, pointing at the top of the tree. Kit nodded and stared.

We walked around the tree. “Sometimes, there'll be a snake climbin' up to get the woodpeckers. He'll get to those sap runs, and they'll make him dizzy. He'll fall to the ground. If you catch him after he falls, he'll usually be stunned. You can just pick him up by the tail and knock him against a tree.”

“I don't see any snakes,” Kit said.

“Poke around in the grass and we might find one. Be a corn snake or a rat snake prob'ly.”

After some kicking around, I found a black rat snake. I grabbed it by the tail and knocked it against a tree. Kit wanted to carry it, so I gave it to him, and he dragged it back with us.

Hal was sleeping against a log when we returned. He opened his eyes and winced at the snake. Kit swung it towards him, and Hal rolled over and shouted, “Hey!”

Kit and I began to laugh. “It's just a black rat snake,” Kit said confidently.

Hal held up his fist and shook it at us with wide eyes. “I'll
trade a black eye for a black snake! You keep that thing away from me.”

I showed Kit how to make a slit down the belly and around the neck and peel the skin back like a sock. Afterwards, we removed the head and intestine and stuffed the stomach cavity with a paste made from white oak acorns, cattail roots, and thistle.

I found a piece of dead wood nearby and dropped it in front of Kit. “You remember how I started that fire?”

Kit nodded and took the bow drill from me.

“I need a bath,” Hal complained.

“Sweat cleans as good as swimmin',” I said.

He looked at me and didn't say anything.

The sun set and the birds became quiet as the forest grew dark. I left Kit and Hal and the dogs and walked downhill to look for a creek. I hadn't gone far when I found one of the giant loblolly pines leaning over so I could walk up its trunk and stand high above the ground, which sloped away beneath me. I could hear water down below and the tops of the trees swishing to the breeze. I imagined that I would be able to see a long way with daylight.

When I returned, Kit was still drilling on the wood and faint curls of smoke drifted up from the bowl. I had brought some juniper bark back with me, and I shredded it and laid it in the bowl. I blew on it gently, and a tiny flame appeared.

“I found a creek down there,” I said. “We'll call it Kit Creek. Got to have names for things.”

Kit smiled and I could tell he liked having a creek named after him. We cooked the snake and dressing on a spit and ate it like sausage. Kit claimed that his was better than anything
he'd had at Pinson. Hal didn't eat his share. He put his back to us and chewed on some of the leftover cattails.

After supper, I suggested we go drink from Kit Creek. Hal said he would go later, so Kit and I set out alone. I showed him the tree I found and we walked up into it. “This is where we'll live for a while,” I told him.

“Up here?”

I nodded. “And underneath. We'll make a lookout up here and build our sleepin' room down below.”

Gray clouds moved over us, and the forest grew even darker. Thunder rumbled in the distance. I looked up at the sky and felt a twang of worry. For the first time, it occurred to me that I might not be able to keep Kit and Hal comfortable. I tried not to think about the weather and continued to tell Kit about our new home. “We'll start tomorrow,” I said. “We've got water below and plenty of forest to the east. Hardwood down below and pine forests up top. That'll give us all types of plants to eat.”

Kit looked around like he was imagining us there. “I'll bet you can see a long ways from here with daylight,” he said.

I nodded. “That's what I was thinkin'. We'll be able to tell better tomorrow mornin'.”

“And you can whip up on anybody who climbs this tree trunk.”

“You're right,” I said. “Somebody comin' up here's gonna get a butt-whippin'.”

Kit became excited and laughed. “Come on,” I said. “Let's go get some water.”

We came down the tree and walked to the creek. “I don't think Hal likes it out here,” Kit said.

Kit only said something I already knew, but I hadn't let myself believe it. “He's just gettin' used to things,” I said.

We bent and scooped our hands full of water and drank. “He was talking some more about his daddy while you were gone a while ago. He says he wants to see him again.”

I took a deep breath. “You think he's gonna leave?”

“I don't know.”

I drank the cool water and stared at my hands as I swallowed. “I don't want him to go,” I said.

“Me neither.”

“He's really not mean.”

“I know.”

I didn't want to talk about it anymore. I stood up and started back, and Kit followed. We passed Hal tromping down the slope to the creek in the dark with the dogs following him. I looked up at the sky again, and it was heavy with storm.

“It's right down there, Hal,” I said. “It's not far.”

“I'll find it,” he grumbled.

“Just let the dogs show you where to go.”

Back at the fire I told Kit my plans to build our shelter, then begin to make weapons and traps. I could start by making a bow out of the fish spear I made the night before. It was hard not to wonder about Hal, though, and if he was going to leave. I didn't want to bring it up when he returned for fear that it might make the idea come to his head if it hadn't already. Instead, I thought of everything I could to make him comfortable.

“Take some of these pine needles, Hal, and put 'em under your blanket. You can stuff your jacket with dry marsh grass and it'll make a better pillow.”

Hal sprinkled the pine needles I handed him across the ground halfheartedly. Then he looked around like he might see more marsh grass nearby.

“We can go back down to Kit Creek, and I'll show you where the soft grass is,” I said.

“I didn't have a soft pillow last night. I don't guess I'll be missin' one much tonight.”

The thunder rumbled closer, and I looked up at the sky.
Don't rain now
, I said to myself. But I knew by the thickness of the air that a storm was closing on us. I looked over at Hal with a sinking feeling. He was spreading his blanket and didn't seem to notice the weather.

Kit and I watched the fire after Hal rolled up in his blanket to go to sleep. After a few minutes, Kit leaned over and whispered, “What do you think?”

“I don't know.”

“It's going to rain tonight, isn't it?”

“Yeah.”

“He's not going to like that,” Kit said.

“We just need to get the shelter built. We've gotta get it built fast and get him comfortable. First thing in the mornin' . . . Then we've gotta get him some food he likes.” I looked at Kit. “He'll stay then. Don't you think?”

Kit looked at me and nodded quickly, but I could tell he wasn't sure.

“He'll stay then,” I repeated to myself.

Kit eventually lay on his side and watched the fire until he fell asleep. I stared at his closed eyes and felt myself getting lonely again. I reached into my pocket and pulled out the crumbled piece of pine bark I'd written to Pap on that morning
and dumped it on the hot coals. I lay down and watched a little flame lick the edges of it, creating a thin line of smoke that curled up into the darkness.

 

The rain came hard that night, and red clay ran down the hillside into our hair and down our backs. The three of us sat shivering with wet blankets hanging over our shoulders. I realized I'd made a mistake. Pap had always told me that shelter was the most important thing in the forest. He said you could go for days without water and even weeks without food, but being caught out in a storm would get you sick and maybe dead.

The one thing I knew we had going for us was that it wouldn't get too cold as long as we had cloud cover to keep the heat down near the ground. The temperature was still well above freezing. We might not get sick if we made a shelter and dried our clothes and blankets before nightfall the next day.

“Let's go find a magnolia tree!” I yelled at them through the storm. “The leaves are big enough to keep the rain off.” They looked up and nodded at me with chattering teeth. We walked stiffly through the darkness, trying to place our feet where they didn't slide from under us with the mud. The dogs followed like they didn't care and didn't feel the rain at all. I located a magnolia and pointed for them to get under its
broad leaves. The three of us crawled beneath and sat with our backs against the trunk.

“Holly trees can keep you out of the rain, too,” I said. They didn't respond. The dogs settled a few yards from us and watched with their chins on their paws.

The rain didn't come as hard under the tree but still dripped on us steadily. Hal was the first to put the wet blanket over his head for protection. Kit soon followed, and I was left staring at the two lumps beside me.

“We're gonna have shelter tomorrow,” I said loudly. “And weapons. We'll be able to kill a deer and get meat.”

Neither of them replied or moved from under their blankets.

“And no school,” I reminded them. “And we'll—”

“Shut up, Moon!” Hal yelled.

I grew sick with worry as Hal's words echoed in my head. I wanted to ask Kit if he was mad at me, too, but I was afraid of what he might say. I lowered my chin to my chest and let my own teeth start to chatter. The rain poured around us and dripped from the leaves down onto my head and then off my bangs and into my lap. After a while, I pulled the blanket over my head and crossed my arms and shivered.

The storm slowed to a cold drizzle in the dark early-morning hours. No one else stirred when I got up and left for the leaning pine tree. Even the dogs nestled deeper into the leaves and seemed to want no part of moving about.

I found my way to the place where we'd made the fire and then walked downhill until I saw the black shadow of the leaning pine and heard the roiling of the swollen creek below.
I worked until just after daylight placing long poles of shaved bay branches against the trunk and crossing them with fans of green pine needles to shed the rain. On the inside of the shelter, I cleared the ground of rocks and sticks so that it would make a smooth surface for the marsh grass I would put down later. When the lower shelter was complete, I dragged the soft boughs of bay trees up into the limbs and crisscrossed them to make a platform. On top of those, I laid a bed of dead pine needles that were dried of sap.

An hour after daylight, I had mostly completed a rough shelter that would keep the three of us dry. Above was the lookout platform where we could also sleep when the weather was warm. The drizzling rain had stopped, and the forest was overcast and dripping.

When I returned to the magnolia tree, Kit was there with his blanket wrapped around his shoulders. He smiled weakly.

“Where are Hal and the dogs?” I asked.

Kit hesitated for a moment. “Gone,” he finally said.

“Gone?”

Kit looked worried. “A while ago he got up and left. The dogs followed him.”

“Back to the fire? Lookin' for me? Where?”

“He said he was going home.”

“Home?” I said.

Kit nodded.

“Already! Which way?”

Kit pointed up the hill. I spun around and ran. I broke from the trees and searched right and then left and saw Hal and the dogs sitting in the distance.

“Hal!” I yelled. The dogs looked back at me, but Hal stared away.

I ran after him, jumping fallen timber and ducking low branches. Once I tripped and fell on my face. When I got up, Hal was watching me. He made me walk the rest of the way until I was stooped before him with my hands on my knees and catching my breath.

“I thought . . . I thought you were leavin'?” I said to the ground.

“I am. Soon as I figure out which way to go.”

“Don't leave, Hal!”

“I just can't do this anymore. I'm cold and wet and hungry. I got ticks in my hair—”