Crow - The Awakening (5 page)

As he landed back on the ground from the trees, he suddenly came face to face with a large, black bear. Not the typical monster he faced, but a real one. For a moment both froze, staring at each other. The bear cocked its head, curious at the sudden intrusion as it rooted around for berries. Steven giggled. "You scared me, silly. Can't play now." He got up and jogged off, with the bear looking at him as he rapidly receded into the thicket.

The dark forest fantasy faded behind him as he continued on, and his attention returned to reality. As he ran, he stretched out his senses to feel the forest around him. It was like he could feel the Earth breathe. It was exhilarating. It did occur to him that it could just be an adrenaline high from the run, something he learned a couple of years ago in his biology texts, but it didn't matter to him. It was still a magical feeling. Running through the forest never really tired him much anyway. It was as if he was energized by the abundant life around him.

A young elk stag suddenly burst from the bushes as Steven ran and trotted alongside him. He grinned and grabbed a handful of the thick fur on its neck and let it pull him along. He used to imagine these creatures too, until the real creatures replaced his imagination and now made regular appearances when he was out in the forest. The elk followed a subtle trail through the underbrush as it headed toward a watering hole. Steven saw several others behind it and up ahead too. What was for Steven a full out run was a modest trot for the elk. They both ran through the forest until the trail turned away from where he was headed and he let go to jump up into another tree.

These trees were taller and easier for him to travel through. He climbed up higher into the canopy and used the springiness of the branches to help him travel from tree to tree. At these heights, he could sometimes see the forest of the neighboring hills. As he traveled from tree to tree he would lose a little elevation and stopped infrequently to climb up and resume the course. He was still able to move faster than if he was on the forest floor running.

The meeting location was getting closer. He picked up the pace as he scrambled from tree to tree. As he got closer to the ground, this time he didn't climb back up but kept traveling until he was at the lower limits of the canopy. While jumping out of the canopy onto another downed tree, he spied a rich growth of mushrooms growing up from the soil and detritus beside the trunk and passed several until he came upon some he recognized. They seemed to call to him, and he instinctively knew they were nontoxic. The poisonous ones looked dead to him, even though they were often very pretty. Field guides had confirmed the identities to him as he helped his godfather collect for the market. He grabbed several of the most succulent mushrooms, avoiding the older woodier ones, and stuffed them into his backpack for a snack later on.

A clamorous noise caught his attention. It was not part of the normal forest sounds, and it was distant but approaching rapidly. Over the years, Steven had infrequently come across a hunter riding through the forest on an ATV or setting up a blind and cutting firewood for camp, but this sound was more familiar. He started running again, recognizing the sound of Brandon's dirt bike.

Abruptly, he emerged from the dense thicket onto one of several fire and logging roads that crisscrossed the forest. It was mostly overgrown but was a favorite road for Brandon to drive along because of the copious ruts and dips he liked to jump and bounce through. Brandon would loan Steven a spare dirt bike and they'd often race up and down the fire road, jumping the dips and occasional pile of dirt. Steven found the stump that they always met at and jumped up on it and sat down. Someone had cut down a few trees in this area a few years ago and the clearing was just now starting to fill in with young saplings. He reached into his backpack and pulled out a mushroom and started snacking on it as he waited for Brandon to get there.

Brandon exploded around a curve in the road and weaved back and forth across the road playing in the ruts as he approached Steven rapidly. He jumped off a deep rut, landed hard and sprayed dirt as he twisted the throttle and caught more air rebounding off another rut, landing unceremoniously by the stump close enough that Steven pulled up his legs. He excitedly whooped at him, then yelled over the sound of the engine, "You almost missed that rut!"

Brandon looked back. "No I didn't. Landed square on." He killed the engine and removed his helmet.

Steven snickered, "Not. Your baby sister coulda done better."

Brandon got off the bike and leaned it against the stump. He thought for a moment. "You're probably right. She's a week off her training wheels."

Steven laughed and jumped off the stump to inspect the motorcycle. "It sounded different. What did you do to it?"

"Sounded different?" Brandon knelt beside his bike. "I got a new carb, but it shouldn't sound all that different." He pulled a branch out from the frame and checked the throttle cable that had come loose.

"Mmm hmm, maybe you gained weight. Been pigging out down at the mansion again?"

"Yeah. On salads and lentils. Mom's on a vegan kick again." Brandon made a face.

Steven walked around the bike. "Let me give it a go."

Brandon tossed him the helmet. If anyone was able to nail down performance issues, it was Steven. For a relatively new motorcycle rider, he seemed to have a knack for fine tuning them. Steven snapped on the helmet and looked down the road as he started the bike. There was an old overgrown pile of dirt beside the fire road that he liked to jump and he was eager for some airtime.

"Be back in a second." Steven twisted the throttle and felt the motorcycle surge forward. He kicked through the gears as he gained speed, hitting the ruts to get some air and feel out the suspension. It had been a few months since he'd last ridden this particular bike, but it seemed familiar enough. He could feel a slight difference in the handling and response, however. Pushing the bike harder made it easier to discern.

His jump was coming up quickly and he braced himself as the motorcycle hit the pile at high speed. The bike came up under him, pushing hard against his legs as he powered up the pile and launched off it. Letting off the gas, he coasted through the air for what seemed like eternity, using the gas and brakes to keep from tipping up or forward too much, then made a near two-point landing. Braking hard, he slowed down and kicked into a low gear and hit the gas hard enough to break out the rear wheel as he spun the bike around to face the opposite direction. Another twist of the throttle sent him zooming back toward Brandon, hopping over the ruts as he went. He stopped just inches from his friend, grinning wildly.

"What do you think?" Brandon asked.

"Timing's a little advanced and the chain is too tight." Steven dismounted the bike and propped it against the stump. "But your suspension upgrades rock. I just eased over that jump this time."

"What? I used a computer to make the timing perfect!" Brandon exclaimed.

"Do computers drive the bike?" Steven asked smugly.

Brandon frowned, looking at the bike. "Almost nowadays."

"Just a little. That's all it needs," Steven insisted. "Did you repack your baffles?"

Brandon shook his head. "Naw. Was going to do that later." He took the helmet and fiddled with the clasp. "Too bad you couldn't come over. Your bike is gathering a lot of dust. We could have gone racing out here."

"I know. Maybe later on. Sally would have a fit if she knew I was tearing through the forest trails on these things. I think she hates them worse than computers," Steven pouted. "Besides, I keep beating you. Where's the challenge?" He smirked at Brandon.

"I let you win, bub." Brandon pushed Steven, who jumped away smiling.

"You only think so. Two jars of honey if you beat me next time we race," Steven challenged. He was going to bring the jars then anyway. Brandon's parents loved his honey.

Brandon nodded, smirking. "Easy win."

"Did you get the file?" Steven couldn't wait any longer. The motorcycle was a fun distraction, but he was eager to get busy on his computer projects.

"What file?" Brandon looked innocent. Steven gave him a look.

Grinning, he tossed a thumb drive to Steven.

"Yes!" Steven danced around. "Yes yes yes!"

Brandon laughed at him. "Happy?"

"Oh yeah!" Steven held his hands up. "Thank you so much."

"No prob." The teenager sat back on his bike again and donned his helmet. "Now, are you ready to lose again?"

"Again? I beat you last time!" Steven put the thumb drive in his backpack, zipped it up and put it on.

"Only because I slipped." He fumbled with the helmet clasp.

"Excuses, excuses. See you at the creek." Steven sprinted back into the forest toward their favorite creek, disappearing into the underbrush. The creek wasn't far off, but while Brandon had to ride around on the trail, Steven preferred to take the shortcut through the brambles. Even the densest of thickets seemed to give way to him as he passed by.

"Hey, that's cheating!" Brandon started his bike and swung it around on the dirt road, spraying dirt, and zoomed off down the road, slipping through the turns as he tried to get to the creek before Steven did. As he rounded the last curve and gunned it for the final stretch, he saw Steven swinging from a low branch by the creek.

"You cheated," he yelled over the sound of his motorcycle as he pulled up.

"You snooze, you lose." Steven grinned.

"Jump it," Brandon goaded him. Steven had tried a few times over the years to jump the shallow creek and managed to fall in every time. It wasn't wide - more of a ditch than a creek, but it was just on the limit of Steven's ability to jump. Brandon could probably jump it, but he was nearly four years older, too.

"I don't know. I didn't make it last time."

Brandon made a chicken noise, then jumped his bike off the eroded bank of the creek, forged across the shallow brook, and scooted up the other side. Steven tossed his backpack and staff to Brandon then eyeballed the creek. The other side was tantalizingly close and this had been a personal challenge for him for a while now.

"While I'm still a kid!" Brandon teased.

"Hold on!" Steven backed a few
yards
away from the bank, then focused hard on the other side. A phrase came to mind from a movie he had watched at Brandon's house, something about there being no spoon. He launched himself, running as fast as he could. His last step was right on the edge of the bank, and he pushed off screaming loudly. For a bare second he was flying, weightless in the air. All too soon, though, the ground came back. He reached out with his feet, sensing that he just might make it. He was actually a few inches short, his feet hitting just below the ledge of the bank. He flailed his arms wildly and Brandon reached out and caught one, pulling him up onto the bank.

"Ah, man. So close," Steven said as he looked down into the creek.

"You almost made it. I bet you will next time." Brandon looked impressed. The years of watching him fall into the muddy creek were almost gone now.

Steven caught his breath for a moment, wondering if he could try it again, then remembered the thumb drive. "Oh, I need to get going."

"Yeah, I figured you had a project. Hope the file works for you." Brandon knew about Steven's hunt for his parents and how hard it was with his godparents being so strict about computers.

"Thanks!" Steven put his backpack back on and picked up his stick. "Maybe next time I won't fall asleep waiting for you to get to the creek."

Brandon made a face, then waved as Steven rushed off into the forest again. He could never run through the woods like that. It was hard enough taking his bike through the wildlife trails, especially where it got dense. His friend seemed impervious to the undergrowth and slipped through it with ease. Gunning his motorcycle, he raced down the bank, back onto the fire road, and off to his own adventures.

As Steven trotted deeper into the forest, the diversity of trees narrowed to primarily tall pines. They towered overhead like immense spires that reached far into the heavens. He slowed down to soak in the ambiance. The energy of the forest was intoxicating. Every little beetle crawling on the bark, lizards scrambling up the branches, chipmunks rustling in the pine needles seemed to add to the whole as brush strokes to a painting. He found some morel mushrooms and picked a handful, shaking them off as he went to bless the Earth with their spores before he stuck them in his backpack.

Finally, he arrived at a particularly large pine tree on the outer reaches of the territory he ran in. Looking up, he spied his tree house high up in the canopy. Putting down his staff and hitching his backpack tighter, he dug his fingers and toes into the bark and started climbing. It got easier when he reached the lower dead limbs on the trunk, which he treated like a ladder, climbing higher and higher. Eventually he arrived at the living limbs that were denser and easier to climb on. As he proceeded ever higher his view of the forest became a cloud of green pine needles.

Steven arrived at the tree house abruptly. He had built it a couple years earlier and he was still amazed at how well it stood up to the elements. Most of the construction process was instinctive for Steven. He didn't go by a blueprint or any drawn design of any kind, but by what seemed right at the time. The tree dictated a lot of the specifics but the general idea of it came from within him as if there was no other way to do it as he bent living branches up to form a modest woven ball that encompassed the trunk. The end result appeared like a huge, tightly woven basket with a tree poking through the center and a pair of salvaged portholes for windows. It had a pointed, thatched roof and a round hatch on the bottom. Branches stuck out of the bottom, creating a tea cup and saucer look and giving him something to grab onto as he climbed out on the tree house to build and maintain it.

On the branches just above the tree house Steven had attached a small collection of solar panels and a homemade directional antennae made out of a large soup can. He had that pointed toward the town library and wireless internet provider that was just a few miles away. The modern technology broke the general naturalistic motif of the tree house, but given that this was where he worked on his computing projects, he had little choice. As he climbed up to the tree house he noticed the antennae was drooping a little, so he climbed up to it and aimed it toward the town and tightened its attachment to the branches. While he was up there he inspected the solar panels and removed pine needles that had dropped on a couple of them.