Chapter Three of a fictional story

Chapter Three
We begin to walk briskly toward the small clearing when we hear footsteps. More footsteps. It must be Reagan.

“Reagan?” I ask. I glance at Alison and notice her face has gone pale.

“What’s wrong?” She puts her finger to her mouth and points to the left. I slowly shift my weight and turn to see an extremely large, brown moose staring back at me. 

“Don’t… move.” She whispers. Don’t worry, Alison, I can’t. I’m shaking. I have never seen a real moose before, and I have no clue what to do. It’s huge, too. Two times the size of me, at least. We just stand there, waiting for something, anything. Should we run? Should we try to scare the moose? Probably not, so we just stay here. 
The moose watches us for a few moments, and after a while, it decides it doesn’t care. The moose slowly wanders away. Alison begins to freak out.

“How are we gonna’ survive the night, Sydney?”

“Well, we’re not gonna’ sleep on the ground, that’s for sure,” I answer. She stares at me and blinks.

“Where, then?” 

“That tree. It’s our best bet.” I say, motioning to a tall tree a few feet away. 

“I don’t know, maybe we should-”

“If you want to get yourself killed and sleep on the ground, you can. But I am gonna’ stay safe and go up there.” I head toward the tree and begin to climb, one branch at a time. I find a thick, sturdy one and sit down with my back against the tree. 

“Tomorrow, we have to find someone to help us. I am not doing this again,” Alison mumbles as she approaches the pine tree and grasps a low branch.

“Careful,” I warn, “some of them aren’t very strong.” 

“I’m fine, alright?” She keeps climbing and wedges her foot into a small opening in the trunk. She pushes up, grabbing onto a thin branch. We’re about 15 feet off the ground now, so we’ll be safe from any harmful animals. I shift my position and hear a loud “crack!”. I look down at Alison and notice she’s hanging on to one branch by her hands.

“Sydney, help!” She’s gasping. The branch she was standing on broke from beneath her, and I don’t know how much longer she’ll be able to hang on to the other one. 

“Hold on!” I frantically say, searching for another branch for her to stand on. I spot one a few feet away from her, but it may be a bit too far to reach.

“Sydney!” 

“Okay, there’s a branch to your right about 3 ½ feet away. Can you reach it?” I ask. She stretches her leg out and tries to reach the branch, but it’s too far. I look at the tips of her fingers and notice they’re going pale.

“I can’t, I can’t!” Her fingers are slipping, and we’re pretty high up. I grab her hands to keep her from falling. 

“Alison, you’re gonna’ have to jump.”

“What? I can’t! I’ll fall!” 

“You’ll have to try. There’s a branch you can catch when you get over. Just swing a bit and jump.” She breathes slowly a few times and starts swinging her legs back and forth. Not very gracefully, but who cares at this point?

“I’ll tell you when, okay?” I ask.

“Okay.” It sounds more like a breath than a word. She swings a few times, and when I think she has enough momentum, I let go of her hands and yell, “Jump!”. She releases her hands from the branch and unceremoniously flies to the other branch. The branch shakes when she lands on it, and her left foot slips. 

“Yes!” I exclaim, “You okay?” I ask. She breathes heavily.

“Yeah, I’m good.” Alison climbs up to a stronger branch and sits down against the tree. We catch our breath for a few minutes and decide to stay out of trouble for a little while.

“What a day,” I mumble as I drift off to sleep.  

 

Scarry Night

VT

16 years old

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