Crocodiles In The Deep Rainforest

A misty creek bent across the rainforest floor. Its brown water curled around smooth stones and disappeared behind tall reeds. On the far bank, more glowing footprints waited beneath a curtain of hanging vines.

Tofaca’s eyes brightened.

“That must be the hidden trail,” she said.

But the creek was not empty.

Crocodiles rested along the water’s edge.

There were six of them, each more stunning than the last. One had scales the color of polished emeralds. Another shimmered bronze and gold. A small crocodile wore pale blue markings that looked like little stars. Their eyes were bright and watchful, and their backs gleamed with rain.

Tofaca stopped at once.

The crocodiles did not growl. They did not rush. They simply watched her.

The creek made a quiet gurgling sound between them.

Tofaca took one careful step toward the water.

A ripple spread from her boot.

The crocodiles lifted their heads.

Tofaca stepped back.

The ripple reached the middle of the creek, where it turned into a ring of glowing water. The ring spun once and faded.

“Oh,” Tofaca said. “The creek noticed me.”

She tried a small step to the left. A flat stone waited near the bank. When her boot touched the mud beside it, the water shivered. Three crocodiles slid one inch closer to the shore.

Tofaca pulled her boot away.

The crocodiles settled again.

She held her red bag against her chest. Inside were a pencil, a small notebook, two biscuits, and her book about rainforest birds. None of those things seemed useful for crossing a creek that answered every step.

“Maybe I should go home and bring a bridge,” she murmured.

A crocodile with emerald scales blinked.

Tofaca looked toward the far bank. The glowing footprints were fading. One bright mark became pale. Then another.

“No,” she said. “I need to reach the trail before the lights go out.”

She searched along the bank. A fallen branch lay nearby, but it was thin and soft with moss. Tofaca dragged it to the creek and placed it across the narrowest part.

The branch bent at once.

Plop!

One end dropped into the water.

A splash leaped up and dotted Tofaca’s nose.

The blue-marked crocodile blinked again. The tiny stars on its back shone through the mist.

Tofaca wiped her nose. “That was not a bridge.”

The crocodile opened its mouth a little. It looked less like a smile and more like a yawn.

Tofaca sat on a warm stone and thought.

The water reacted to her steps. The crocodiles watched the water. Perhaps they were not trying to stop her. Perhaps they were waiting for her to understand something.

She took out her notebook and pencil. On the first page, she drew the creek. On the second, she drew the crocodiles. She gave the emerald crocodile long green scales and the blue one a row of stars.

Then she wrote:

The path has rules.

She read the words twice.

“What rules?” she asked.

The crocodiles remained still.

Tofaca listened. Rain tapped the leaves. The creek whispered around the stones. A frog made a soft popping sound in the reeds.

She noticed that the crocodiles were not spread everywhere. Each rested beside a smooth, pale stone. Between the stones, the water moved calmly.

Tofaca pointed to the first stone. “May I step there?”

She placed one boot on it.

The water made one small circle.

The crocodiles lifted their heads, but none moved.

Tofaca took another step to the next stone.

This time, the creek glowed beneath her boot. A line of green light ran from the stone to the far bank, then faded.

Tofaca smiled. “One step at a time.”

She moved carefully. Stone by stone, she followed the quiet spaces between the crocodiles. She kept her feet gentle and her breathing slow.

At the third stone, the mud gave way.

Her boot slipped.

Tofaca sat down hard, though the stone was soft beneath her. Her red bag slid from her shoulder and landed in the shallow water.

“My notebook!” she cried.

The bag bobbed once. Water curled around it.

The blue-marked crocodile moved.

Tofaca froze.

The beautiful animal glided toward the bag. Its pale stars shone under the mist. It nudged the bag with the flat side of its nose, pushing it toward the bank.

Tofaca reached out and pulled it from the water.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

The crocodile dipped its head.

Tofaca checked the bag. The biscuits were soggy, but the notebook was safe. Her book about birds had a damp corner, and one page now showed a large brown water mark.

She felt disappointed. Then she looked at the crocodile.

“You helped me,” she said. “I can be careful too.”

She tucked the book under her shirt and stood.

The next stones were farther apart. Tofaca could not reach them with one easy step. She searched the bank again. This time she saw something large beneath a curtain of vines.

A tree had fallen across the creek.

Its trunk rested from one bank to the other, wide enough for her boots. Moss covered the bark, and small yellow flowers grew along one side. The tree made a natural bridge.

Tofaca touched it with her hand. The bark was rough and damp.

“Is this the way?” she asked.

The emerald crocodile turned its head toward the log.

Tofaca took that as an answer.

She climbed onto the fallen tree. The creek moved below her, dark and soft. The crocodiles watched from the water, their shining backs lined up like living jewels.

Tofaca placed one foot in front of the other.

Halfway across, a drop of rain fell from a leaf and struck the log.

Tap.

The creek flashed green.

Every crocodile turned toward the sound.

Tofaca stopped. Her fingers curled around a small branch growing from the log.

The water rose in a little wave, then settled.

She remembered the circles made by her first steps. The path had rules. Loud steps made big ripples. Careful steps made small ones.

Tofaca breathed in the smell of wet bark.

“I will go softly,” she said.

She moved again, slower than before. Her boots pressed into the moss. The log creaked, but it held firm. Below, the crocodiles stayed calm.

At last, Tofaca reached the far bank.

The final glowing footprint waited beneath the hanging vines. She stepped onto it.

The light warmed her boot and spread across the mud. One by one, more footprints appeared beyond the vines, leading into the deep rainforest.

Tofaca lifted her face. The trees rose high above her, their leaves touching like green roofs. Mist drifted between the trunks. Somewhere ahead, water sang over stones.

She had found the hidden trail.

She turned to thank the crocodiles.

They were no longer resting at the creek.

The emerald crocodile had climbed onto the log. The blue-marked one followed. The others moved through the shallow water, silent and smooth.

Tofaca took one step along the glowing trail.

The crocodiles took one step after her.

She stopped.

They stopped.

Tofaca looked down at the damp earth. Her scent clung to the path from her boots, her wet bag, and her hands on the log. The crocodiles had found it.

“You are coming with me?” she asked.

The blue-marked crocodile blinked.

Tofaca felt a little flutter in her stomach, but the forest around her was gentle. The vines swayed. The flowers smelled sweet. The crocodiles were stunning, and their eyes held no anger.

She opened her notebook and wrote one more line:

The guardians follow the path.

Then she tucked the pencil away and walked beneath the vines. Behind her came the soft scrape of scales on bark and the quiet splash of feet in the creek.

The glowing trail led onward, and the crocodiles followed her scent into the trees.

Tofaca held her damp book close and kept walking, careful to follow the path’s rules. She had crossed the creek by listening, and now the rainforest had given her a new lesson: when a path is shared, courage grows best beside kindness.

End of chapter one. 5 more chapters and about 9,708 words in the full book.