A Little Adventure

The turtle stretched one leg forward. It slipped on the damp dirt.

Mia moved a small stick away from his path. Then she placed a broad leaf beside the root. The turtle tried again. This time, he climbed onto the leaf and slid free.

“There you go,” Mia whispered.

The turtle rested beneath a fern. Mia smiled and stood up.

“I am going to the picnic meadow,” she told him. “The trail should take me there.”

The turtle blinked.

Mia followed the creek. The trail bent left, then right, then left again. She passed a stump shaped like a chair and a stone covered in soft green moss. The blue feather in her pocket brushed against her hand as she walked.

After a while, the sky changed.

A gray cloud slipped over the sun. The bright creek turned silver. The wind lifted the leaves and spun them in little circles.

Mia stopped beside a willow tree.

“Rain?” she asked.

One cool drop landed on her nose.

Then another landed on her cheek.

Mia looked up. The cloud was spreading across the sky.

“I can make it back,” she said.

She turned around and hurried along the trail. Her shoes pressed into the soft earth. The first drops tapped on the leaves above her. Tap, tap, tap.

At the bend, Mia saw the creek.

It had grown wider.

Water rushed over the flat stones where she had hopped before. The little path on the other side was covered by a shining sheet of water. Rain fell harder, drumming on the willow leaves and splashing into the creek.

Mia stopped.

She could not cross the creek now.

She took one step closer, then stepped back. The water was moving too quickly, and the stones were slippery.

“Not that way,” she said softly.

A rumble rolled across the sky. It was not loud enough to frighten her, but it made the willow branches tremble.

Mia hugged her arms around herself. Her bright afternoon had turned cool and gray. She could still see the trail ahead, but the way home was on the far bank.

She tried another path. Near the willow, a narrow strip of grass led toward the trees. Mia followed it for a few steps, pushing aside wet leaves.

The grass ended at a muddy hollow.

“No,” she said.

She turned back. Her socks were damp, and mud clung to one shoe. She wiped it against a root, but the mud only spread.

The turtle appeared beneath the fern.

Mia stared. “You came after me?”

The turtle moved one slow step toward the willow.

Rain dripped from his shell.

Mia looked at the darkening sky, then at the willow’s long branches. The branches hung low enough to make a green curtain. Underneath, the ground looked dry.

“We both need a place to wait,” she said.

The turtle crawled toward the willow. Mia followed.

Beneath the branches, the rain sounded softer. Water pattered on the leaves above them, but only a few drops reached the ground. The air smelled of wet bark and fresh mud. Mia sat on a smooth root and pulled her knees close.

The turtle settled beside her shoe.

“I will call you Pip,” she said. “You look like a Pip.”

Pip blinked once.

Mia took the blue feather from her pocket. It was damp but still bright.

“I was going to show this to everyone at the meadow,” she said. “I thought I would be home before the rain.”

Pip tucked his head into his shell.

Mia watched the creek through the willow branches. It rushed and curled around the stones. A twig floated past. Then another.

She wished she had stayed near the meadow. She wished she had told someone where she was going. Most of all, she wished the creek would become small again.

“I should have checked the trail,” Mia said.

Pip slowly stretched his neck from his shell.

Mia looked at him. “You think so too?”

Pip took a careful step toward the edge of the shelter, then stopped where the rain fell.

Mia understood. He had been stuck between roots because he needed a little help. Now she needed to be patient and think.

She checked the willow shelter. One side was dry. Another side had a small opening where the branches touched the ground. A thick root made a seat. A flat stone could hold the blue feather so it would not get muddy.

Mia set the feather on the stone.

“There,” she said. “Safe and dry.”

Pip crawled beside it.

For a while, Mia listened to the rain. She counted the drops that fell from one leaf. She watched a snail inch along a piece of bark. She gave Pip a name for every leaf that floated by.

“This one is a boat,” she said. “This one is a hat. This one is - ”

A loud splash cut her off.

The creek had risen again.

Mia leaned forward. The water now covered the lower roots along the bank. The trail she had used was gone beneath the rushing creek. On the far side, the path home looked close enough to touch, but it was separated from her by the wide water.

She sat back beneath the willow.

“I cannot go back yet,” she said.

Pip’s head turned toward her.

“I am safe,” Mia added, saying the words slowly. “I have shelter. I have my feather. I have you.”

Pip moved closer until his shell touched the toe of her shoe.

Mia smiled a little.

The rain began to soften. It changed from a hard drumbeat to a gentle patter. But the creek did not shrink. It raced along, brown and bright, carrying leaves and tiny twigs downstream.

Mia listened for voices. She heard only water and birds hiding in the trees.

She thought about the meadow. Her family might be looking for her. They might be calling her name. Mia wanted to call back, but the rain and creek made a loud wall of sound.

So she used the willow.

She gathered three fallen branches and laid them near the opening, where they could be seen from the trail. Then she placed the blue feather on top of the largest branch. Its bright color stood out against the green leaves.

“If someone comes this way, they will see it,” she told Pip.

Pip climbed onto the lowest branch and rested there.

Mia glanced across the creek once more. The far bank was still too dangerous to reach. She did not like being stuck, but she knew the willow was holding strong, and the ground beneath it was dry.

She took a deep breath.

“Waiting is not doing nothing,” Mia said. “Waiting can be the smart choice.”

Pip blinked.

Mia leaned against the willow root. Its bark felt rough and warm beneath her hand. The rain smelled clean now, and a thin patch of sunlight shone through the clouds.

She was no longer carefree. She was muddy, wet at the edges, and far from home.

But she was safe.

The creek rushed between Mia and the path back, and Pip sat beside her under the willow. Mia watched the water rise and fall, holding the blue feather close while she waited for help.

End of chapter one. 4 more chapters in the full book.