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Winter Trials
Winter Trials
Winter Trials
Ebook51 pages43 minutes

Winter Trials

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In "Winter Trials: Perils and Resolutions in the Northern Wilderness," readers embark on an exhilarating journey through the unforgiving landscapes of the Northern wilderness. Set against the backdrop of a frozen wilderness, this captivating tale follows the adventures of a resilient sea otter navigating through icy waters and facing the challen

LanguageEnglish
Release dateJun 11, 2024
ISBN9798330226399
Winter Trials

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    Book preview

    Winter Trials - Tracey Lunsford

    Group Default_Create_a_book_cover_background_for_Winter_Trials_Peril_1.jpg Winter Trials Perils and Resolutions in the Northern Wilderness Winter Trials Perils and Resolutions in the Northern Wilderness

    CHAPTER I

    The Sound in the Night

    Default_The_beaver_had_a_stick_of_alder_in_its_mouth_to_be_use_2.jpg

    Under the moonlit stillness, a distant, muffled crashing sound suddenly broke the silence. It came just once, then the stillness of the wilderness night resumed, an untouched, vast solitude. The Boy lifted his eyes and glanced across the thin smoke of the campfire at Jabe Smith, who sat smoking contemplatively. Answering the glance, the woodsman muttered, Old tree fallin', and returned to his quiet contemplation of the glowing sticks in the fire. The Boy, who had adopted the taciturnity of the woodsfolk as soon as he entered the wilderness, said nothing but scanned his companion’s gaunt face with a gravely incredulous smile.

    So pervasive and supreme was the silence that five seconds after the strange sound had faded, it seemed almost impossible to believe it had ever happened. The gentle gurgle of the shallow, shrunken brook that ran past the open front of their lean-to only served to emphasize the stillness. Since their dinner, both Jabe and the Boy had gradually forgotten to talk. As the moon rose over the low, fir-crested hills, they sank into reverie, watching the campfire die down.

    At last, with a crisp whisper, a stick burned through the middle and fell apart, causing a flicker of red flame to leap up. The woodsman knocked out his pipe, rose slowly to his feet, stretched his gaunt frame, and murmured, Reckon we might as well turn in.

    That’s all right for you, Jabe, answered the Boy, rising as well, tightening his belt, and reaching for his rifle. But I’m going off to see what I can see. Night’s the time to see things in the woods.

    Jabe grunted noncommittally and began spreading his blanket in the lean-to. Don’t forget to come back for breakfast, that’s all, he muttered. He regarded the Boy as a phenomenally brilliant hunter and trapper spoiled by sentimental notions.

    To the Boy, whose interest in all things woodcraft was much broader and more sympathetic than his companion's, Jabe’s interpretation of the sound as a falling tree seemed hasty and shallow. He knew that there was no better all-around woodsman in these parts than Jabe Smith, but he also knew that Jabe's interest in the craft was strictly tied to his roles as hunter, trapper, and lumberman. Just now, Jabe was entirely focused on his role as a timber-cruiser, exploring the remote regions of the wilderness to locate the best spruce and pine growths for winter lumbering operations. On this particular trip, the Boy—despite the disparity in their ages and the divergence in their views—had accompanied him with a special objective. The area they were exploring was said to be full of unnamed, unmapped lakes and streams, where in former days, the Indians had conducted great beaver hunts.

    When the sound of the falling tree reached his ears through the night silence, the Boy immediately thought, Beavers, at work! He kept this to himself, knowing that Jabe, as a trapper, would also be interested in beavers, and he had in mind to score a point on Jabe. Moving silently like a lynx in his soft-soled larrigans, he ascended the half-empty brook channel, which here strained its shrunken current through rocks and slate-slabs, between steep banks. The channel curved steadily, rounding the shoulder of a low ridge. After traveling less than half a mile, he emerged onto a bit of swampy marsh, beyond which, over the crest of a low dam, lay the tranquil waters of a pond shining like a mirror

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