Social Issues
The tea leaves formed brown clumps on the side of my cup.
Finally the fortune-teller spoke. "The leaves nearest the rim tell us about the future," she said. "They form the shape of a dagger."
Ashley pushed her on the next large rock and almost knocked her over. As her cousin leaped from rock to rock, Tabitha tried to follow but wasn't as sure of herself, especially on the slippery surfaces of the boulders.
"It's not a race," she said.
Ashley spun around on one foot and said in a sing-song voice, "Is the wittle baby getting tired?"
Before Tabitha could respond, Ashley spun back and jumped for the next rock. As she did, her back foot slipped out from under her. Her body landed flat across two rocks, and her cheek whacked the stone.
Tabitha winced.
Ashley lay still.
"Here they come!" Courtney learned eagerly against the railing. A blur of orange streaked past before I had a chance to see it clearly. The sled went into the turn. I watched it careering back and forth on the smooth curved ice of the track as it rocketed through the Kreisel. "Aren't they supposed to keep the sled steady, Trevor?" asked Robyn. "I think so," I answered. Courtney's attention was riveted to the orange sled that was fishtailing out of control. "What's wrong?" Robyn said, just as a screech of tearing metal filled the air. Something silver had wernched loose and was lying on the ice. The sled flipped. "Josh!" Courney screeched. The bobsled landed on its side and skidded toward the final turn, where it slowed to a grinding stop.
I felt light and free, like an escaped prisoner. Tonight, for the first time ever, I would sleep up here on my own. Just me and the wilderness. I wanted to bellow out in triumph, like a big old bull elk. But I had almost reached my cabin, so I loped along on silent feet. Like a creature of the wild, I approached my lair in silence. I slowed down, advanced cautiously, stayed on high alert to keep my territory safe from predators.
I raised my head, sniffed the air and knew something was wrong. Mixed with the musty odor of damp earth and the Christmas-tree scent of firs, was a trace of wood smoke. A chill spread up the back of my neck. Here in the forest, smoke could come from only one place. My cabin.
