THE RIVER

The next night, Galen made sure Rafael was fed and content, and then left him beside the small spring for the night. Galen struck out, going toward the west in search of a new place to dig a den. Within fifteen minutes of leaving the old den, the ground sloped downward. The slope was gentle, but definite, and he continued for the next hour. He came to a trail that ran westward, so he followed it and went faster. Here, it was steeper. From the moon’s position—right on the horizon—he should turn back. But the trail opened up on the edge of a ridge, and below, he saw a narrow strip of water.

The river!

They had lost track of it the last week as Blaze led them toward the mountains. If he could find a good den or dig one near the river, they would have plenty of water. The river was in deep shadows and the moon was setting. He should get back to Rafael.

Galen hesitated. It would take him two hours to get back here tomorrow. If he stayed just a bit longer, he might find a den and get ready to move tomorrow. Rafael would understand.

Galen scrambled toward the river, and fifteen minutes later came out on a gravel bar. He drank, then looked up and down the river. Within a couple hundred feet in both directions, it twisted, hiding the river both upstream and downstream. Where he stood, the water rippled fast and shallow over sections of flat rock. A couple hundred yards downstream, the river deepened, and dark, thick plants waved in the current while dark shadows of trees and shrubs stood straight and motionless. He closed his eyes and let the atmosphere of the river wash over him. He wanted to always live beside running water.

For the next hour, he walked upstream, parallel to the bank, watching for a den. Around each bend, he told himself that he’d only look around one more.  One bend, though, turned into two, which became three and still he kept walking. Digging a den was an option, but Galen hoped to find an abandoned one.

Suddenly, Galen realized the sky was lightening. With frustration, he realized he’d been away far too long. But another curve in the river beckoned.

Sprinting, he came up,on a new vista. Ahead, the river valley opened wide to the east—where the sun glowed on the horizon. To the west, it rose higher. The river was wide and deep, and so clear you could see snails on the bottom. A fish jumped, snatching a fly for its breakfast. It was a good place to dig a den and Galen decided that tomorrow night, he would return here first. The golden sun peeked over the lip of the horizon, and he had to get back to Rafael.

He scurried up the slope and found the trail. He followed it until it connected to one that ran close to their den. Staying on the trail was faster, and he thought it would make the journey to the river only an hour and a half. Three hours round trip. He would still have an hour or two to dig tomorrow night.

It was over two hours past dawn when, bursting with good news, he ran down the short tunnel and into the den. “Rafael!”

“Here.”

Like cold water thrown on him, Galen realized that Rafael was weaker. “What’s wrong?”

“Couldn’t eat.”

The pile of insects and snails lay untouched. “Oh, no!” Galen leaned against Rafael and pushed him upright. “You need to drink. What’s wrong? You felt better yesterday.” Galen berated himself silently. Why had he stayed away all night? He should have stayed to coax Rafael into eating.

Rafael’s head drooped, his nose dragging the ground.

“Come on. Up you go,” Galen said.

Rafael shook his head. Galen dug his forelegs under Rafael’s belly and half lifted his brother. Rafael finally stood, but threatened to collapse at any moment. Galen felt a panic rising. Rafael could not die. Galen didn’t waste a breath talking Rafael into the trip to the spring; instead, he simply pushed steadily, forcing Rafael to move one step at a time. It was slow going. For every two laborious steps, Rafael had to stop and rest. Step by step, Galen concentrated on Rafael’s breathing, his steps, his weight. By the time they reached the spring, Galen was exhausted. The midmorning sun was bright and hot.

He tried to remember why he’d been so excited when he’d arrived home. Yes. The river.

Rafael lay before the spring and stretched out with his nose atop his feet. He inched forward until his toes were immersed, as was his mouth. He sucked water, then propped his head on his feet. Too weak to move, he slept. Galen let him. Though the heat grew intense, they stayed at the spring. Rafael slept fitfully, waking to suck a bit more water before sleeping again. Galen slept little. All he could do was wait and see if his brother would make it through this relapse. He resolutely pushed away thoughts of the Faralone Falls and Corrie and Victor searching for the eagle’s nest. At this moment, Rafael was his world.

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