Forsaken An American Sasquatch Tale - By Christine Conder Page 0,3
quieter as they left, but the one called Ray said, “You get a gander at the smaller one? What color you think it was?”
They walked out of earshot, but he meant her. Where Sarah was larger and a sable, Liberty’s straight, symmetrically-colored human hair, became a short coat, alternating between stripes and swirls as a Sasquatch. She felt a tickle, a spider or a worm on her toes and on instinct started to kick at the dirt, not even stopping when her heel connected with something hard. Sarah grabbed her by the arms.
“Stop it,” she whispered, a sound as gruff as the hunters. “You want them to find us?”
Liberty couldn’t help it, she hated when stuff crawled on her. A weakness, especially in a home underground—where every creepy element in the world happened to live. Liberty did her best to look apologetic and winced as she rubbed her heel. It throbbed. Inspiration hit. She dug at the floor and discovered what felt like a large stone encased in the soil.
“Look,” she said, started to clear the dirt around it. “Feel here. It’s a rock and I think it’s big enough. You could use it to save us.”
Sarah peered at the half-buried stone and then up at the opening. “There isn’t time. Close your eyes.”
“What? Why?” Liberty asked, even though she already knew. ‘Close your eyes, I’m going to change’ hung unspoken between them. Liberty clung to Sarah’s legs in desperation.
“Shh.” Sarah untangled Liberty’s arms and placed her hands on her cheeks, forced reluctant eyes upward to hers. “Listen to me and shut them right now.”
Liberty shook her head no.
“Do it, or don’t. But I have to go now, before they get back. You’re going to stay here. ”
An unfamiliar urgency filled her mother’s voice, and because Liberty thought it would please her, she did it.
“You stay hidden until your father comes to get you, no exceptions. Understand?”
“I will.” Liberty said. Sarah would go to Proem and would send Liberty’s father back to rescue her. It made sense. He was a hundred times stronger than her mother was.
“And Liberty?”
“Yes?”
“No matter what anyone else says to you, the white auras are real. You can trust them.”
“Uh—” Liberty peeked open an eye and watched her mother start to climb.
“Don’t forget,” Sarah said when she neared the lip.
Liberty squeezed her eyes shut again. The white auras? Everyone knew there was no such thing. But before she had a chance to question it, Sarah had lifted herself out of the pit. Liberty heard leaves crunching and counted Sarah’s steps until she couldn’t detect them anymore.
She decided she’d been tricked. Like the first time she’d gotten hiccups, they’d lingered the whole day until out of the blue her mother told her to think of someone who was talking about her. The words caught her off guard and by the time she’d thought of everyone in the cavern who might indeed be talking about her, the hiccups had vanished. Another diversion.
Liberty opened her eyes. Digging and kicking at the dirt, Liberty tried her hardest to unearth the rock. If the men happened upon her before her father made it back, she hoped to be strong enough to use it to defend herself. She continued to excavate, pausing every few seconds to listen, until the men approach again.
“Ray!” the other one shouted, “It’s over here!”
A crash in the woods, like a tree had fallen in the distance, and then footfalls thundered to the right of the dugout. She maneuvered, trying to get a good angle to see up above. See anything at all. A moment later, pounding steps came from the opposite direction. Had they turned back? A man’s voice hollered out, “Which way did they go? Sam?”
Sam. Now she knew the names of both the men who had caused her mother to leave.
“Left! Left! Off the trail,” Sam answered.
“I’ll head ‘em off this way,” Ray said.
She stood on tiptoes and glimpsed a beam of light as it bobbed and bounced off the spruce. Heard the men’s excited voices as they talked over each other. And the unmistakable sound of gunshots and a brief wail. She dropped down to her knees and in a frenzy, pulled the rock free.
“Whoa! Did you see that? I hit it,” the Sam person called out. “Point your light over here.”
They couldn’t have been more than fifty paces away. How far had her mother gotten? Liberty refused to accept the cry had come from Sarah because she’d gone for help minutes ago. She