(Unedited excerpt)
A white squirrel staggered
toward the Stone River. He paused, wavering in place as he looked
skyward. The act of craning his neck threw him off-balance, and the
squirrel fell backward, landing roughly in the grass. He lay there
for a moment, confused, before rolling over to his front and pushing
himself upright.
The squirrel stumbled onward,
his feet finding a little-used path that dipped into a shallow
ravine. He followed it down to the bottom, then began the steep
upward climb, slipping more than once. When he reached the rise on
the other side and stepped out of the grass, a great expanse of tiny
stones opened up before him. The squirrel set both hindpaws on the
stone and paused. A ripple of recognition passed through his eyes for
the briefest of moments, but that was quickly replaced by the madness
that had taken root in his mind.
He stumbled his way across the
Stone River in the twilight, mouth agape and drooling. When he
reached the grass on the far side, he stepped into the opening where
the trail picked up again. The ground sloped suddenly downward, and
he immediately fell tumbling into the ravine, rolling down the trail
until he came to a stop at the bottom. The faint path was noticeably
wider here, and he was lying in the middle of it.
Struggling to his feet, he cast
another shaky glance at the sky before continuing on. He wandered the
wrong direction at first, the wider part of the trail confusing him.
When he found his way blocked by a wall of grass, he stood in place a
few moments before turning his body and walking a different
direction. By sheer chance, he eventually found the path again and
followed it up the slope to a wide meadow.
An unseen force had taken hold
of the pale squirrel, driving him to wander in search of he knew not
what. But wander he must, for the only word his mind felt or
understood was “go.”
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