"Roan's First Days"

Part 7

 

Roan stepped onto the stone river. The warm, unmoving pebbles felt strange and unnatural beneath his paws. Pebbles were supposed to move when walked upon and not emit the sharp, awful odor that these did. Nostrils stinging, he hurried across the open expanse to the protection of the high grasses on the other side.

 

The chipmunk plunged into the vegetation to escape the acrid smell and the unnerving exposure of the stone river. He fought his way through the grasses until he found the little stream again, skirting it until he came to the first tree of the little grove that made its home along its banks.

 

There was little protection here, but he could see limestone outcroppings on the far side of the stream. Some of them appeared to have small caves that offered shelter from the elements. Roan scanned the surrounding fields for signs of danger. The shadows were beginning to lengthen, and it would not be long before the creatures of the night began to hunt.

 

A thin branch that had fallen from the oak tree nearby spanned the stream, and Roan made his way to it. He climbed on easily and crept across the rough bark. The end of the branch sat submerged in the water, and Roan made a great leap that landed him solidly on the bank.

 

He gazed about him and found a well-worn path leading downstream to his right. The chipmunk scowled.  He wondered who used the trail in order for it to be so well-defined. He hoped with his soul it was not a hunting trail. The lengthening shadows urged this thought from his mind, however, and he made his way to the first dark opening in the limestone.

 

Roan took half a dozen steps and stopped cold. His skin prickled, and his heart pounded.

 

A firm, stern voice growled behind him.

 

"What are you doing here?"