the beaten path to the treacherous one, weighing my options. Death by a snake
or being pushed off the mountain by a Drygen? Neither sounded appealing.
Cole laughed. "Be brave, Mar. We're going down there, even if I have to carry you." He wrapped his arms around my waist as if doing just that. I cried out in protest.
He nuzzled my neck and whispered, "Shh, Mar, look out there."
We were so high up that I could see even the farthest edge of Starten. Nestled
within the emerald-green trees, I could see our community. Our homes were
little boxes of color.
"Oh," I murmured in surprise.
"Isn't it amazing how s our little town's problems are if you look at it from
afar?" he asked softly. "Up here, we can just breathe and forget our worries.
When will you ever trust me, Mar?"
"I trust you," I whispered my half-truth.
Cole and I had known each other for so long that he understood my fears. He
held me tighter and allowed me to take in the view silently. After our brief moment of contentment, we reluctantly began down the pathway.
I tried to focus on everything around me to prevent my mind from racing. It
was easy to do since the trail was so overgrown. I knew it had been forgotten.
Our secret place, I thought.
In no time, we left the quiet of the mountain for babbling water. The river we
walked along was purple with blue froth. The current grew stronger as we
continued. I knew if we kept walking, we would eventually reach the rainbow-
colored waterfalls that fed into Sparrow Lake.
A flock of gold and silver butterflies appeared. I stopped to watch as they swam against the current. Here, I could learn to calm my mind, I realized.
In the quiet of the forest, I recalled Gram's stories of magic. It was as if everything around me had a tale. Watching the butterflies, I remembered the story of Three Billy Goats Gruff. The gold and silver powder from butterfly wings had been used to put the troll to sleep, so the bridge could be crossed.
One day, I found a book at Thompson's Used Book and Sauerkraut Store. It
contained all the stories Gram had told me at bedtime, but the stories were slightly different. There was not a butterfly sleeping powder that helped the goats, but rather, an older, stronger goat had pushed the troll into the water.
When questioned, Gram patted my hand and said, “My stories are more memorable.”
A high-pitched squeak pulled me back to the present. Above us, a fighting
trio of green squirrels drew my attention. The rodents’ metallic green fur
glimmered in the sunlight, and reflections bounced off the water as they flew through the air.
Gram had told us the stories about Starten, and what it had been like before
the Drygen Cannery explosion. She’d explained how the water sources had been
polluted. Some liked to believe it was magic that changed everything, but the hefty fine paid and admittance of fault, by the cannery proved more feasible.
Gram loved to show us pictures of her mother's world. A time before the
change. Everything seemed so odd. The only flying squirrels did was to glide from tree-to-tree. Butterflies flew in the air and avoided water. They did not swim in streams. Instead, trout swam in the river and were caught using poles with a worm on a hook at the end. The thought of that always grossed me out.
“Are we close yet?” I whispered, shaking off the repulsive thought.
Cole nodded and placed one finger on his mouth to remind me not to speak.
In the brush ahead, I saw bright, colorful tails, swaying back and forth. Tugging
Cole's hand, I pointed. He nodded and grabbed the net gun from his bag.
As we got closer, he motioned for me to stay put and handed me a hand-
woven net on a stick. I raised my hands to question this.
