THE FORT THAT THE BOY DESCRIBED, and where Michael now sat, was little more than a small cave in the bank of the ridge with its low opening facing north. It was an almost invisible location from the path on top of the ridge as the overhang to the entrance sloped over like a porch roof and was covered in moss, scrub, and a few shallow-rooted poplar trees. Inside, Michael saw that Will had troweled into the walls a tiny ledge that he had then used to hold odds and ends of childhood memorabilia. Most of the toys looked as if they had seen hard times, none of them seemed firsthand by any degree, but they were on display as if they were pride of possession. The dugout was cramped, and Michael found himself knocking over some of the toys by the simple act of turning around. He did his best to put things right.
As the afternoon wore on, Michael heard movement in the woods and the sound of a dog barking. Will and Otis were making their way down the path again. Michael stayed in the cave and waited, not knowing if the boy was alone or had brought someone with him.
Otis was the first to arrive. He stood several feet from the entrance and stared at Michael. He wasn’t growling this time, but he looked none too happy to see the interloper occupying this space. Will appeared right after and stood behind Otis.
“I see you found it.”
“I did, thank you.”
“It will be better than staying where you were. It’s supposed to rain tonight. Ma didn’t want me coming back out due to the storm that is coming, but I told her I’d be right back. I figured you’d be hungry so I brought you something.”
Will unzipped his backpack and pulled out a paper bag. Inside was an assortment of edible items, a collection that only a ten-year-old would think suitable for a meal. Michael took the bag.
“I also brought you this.” Will tossed over a blanket, old and ratted, but still solid and usable. “It was in the bottom of my closet. I doubt anyone will miss it. It’s been in there for as long as I can remember. Supposed to get cold too.”
“Will, this is all more than I would have ever expected.”
“Ain’t nothing. Us adventurers have to stick together.”
“Adventurers?”
“Yeah. Me and Otis come out in these woods all the time, exploring and adventuring. I can see you’re like us. I’d hope if ever I get stuck on an adventure, someone would help me out. It’s dangerous work.”
“It’s also dangerous befriending strangers, Will. I want to thank you for your bravery.”
The boy rocked on his heels a bit, letting the compliment sink in. Though he was doing his best to act like a fearless adult, being called brave forced a half smile to cross his lips and made him look like the young boy he was.
“Sure. Well, I gotta get back. Come on, Otis!” and with that, Will made for the path. Otis, however, sat looking at Michael and the provisions that his master had left behind. He had a questioning look in his eyes, as if he was telling Michael to be careful around the boy. Eventually the dog moved on after Will, and Michael was alone again.
He dug through the bag and pulled out some of the rations and ate a bit. Afterward he found the tarp that Will said was in the dugout and worked on propping it over the entrance to keep out whatever rain might come down. He wrapped himself in the blanket and crawled into the hovel in the hill . . . to the musty smell of earth, the chirping of crickets, and his thoughts about the vigilantes of Coldwater.