Culloo by Murielle Cyr

Author:Murielle Cyr
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: fiction, animals, grieving, family relationships, first nations, foster care, canadian natives, tree spirits, family adventure, nature and responsibility, fiction fairy tales folk tales legends mythology, animals spirits, canadian literature fiction, ebook action adventure childrens books kaitos fairy tales folk tales myths science fiction fantasy magic science fiction fantasy, nature beauty wonder consciousness spirituality earth, hunting adventure, ebook action, grieving the loss of a parent, ebook adventure, nature adventure, nature and animals, bear poaching, middlegrade childrens books, nature educational, first nations spirituality
Publisher: Murielle Cyr

CHAPTER SIX

Tala woke up to a loud chorus of birds. She had slept longer than intended. The early rays of the sun filtered through the green pine needles and heated her face and hands. She felt hot and clammy in her hooded sweatshirt. Last night’s problem she had pulling the tarp down came back to her. She glanced up and saw it was dangling sideways from a nearby branch a little ways from where she had placed it above the hammock.

Branches all around them and nearby plants appeared drenched, and large puddles had formed along the trail. The air smelled fresh and green as if all the plants and trees were giving thanks to the rain. She turned to check on Dason and the hammock started to rock; a cascade of cold leftover raindrops splashed down on his face. His eyes popped open and he sat up.

“Did it rain?” he said, touching his face.

“Guess so,” she shrugged. “I just remember a loud crash of thunder.”

The silky warm feeling she had felt on her fingers just before falling asleep came back to her, and she stretched her arm high to pull the tarp down. It had the usual dry plastic feel to it as she folded it.

“Funny how it’s not even wet,” she said. “The branches must’ve kept the rain out.”

“Where did that feather come from?” said Dason.

She turned to see him holding a long black feather that reached upwards from his waist to way past his head. She reached out to touch it and he pulled back. “Finders keepers,” he said, and springing out of the hammock, tipped it over, making Tala tumble out right smack into a large cold puddle beneath them.

“Nice going, brat,” she said, controlling her urge to take a swing at him before stepping onto drier ground. She scraped her mud-caked shoes on the grass and glanced around.

“Looks like it rained real hard everywhere else,” she said. “Strange, though, how we didn’t get wet.” She leaned back to peer up at the tree and saw the branches had wide gaps between them. The flat pine needles were nowhere dense enough to keep out much rain. Why didn’t the tarp at least get the tiniest bit wet? That silky feeling she had felt on her fingers came back to her again and she spun around to face Dason.

“Let me just feel that thing a minute,” she said, grazing the feather with the tips of her fingers. “That’s it. That’s what I touched before the thunder struck.”

She glanced up at the tree again. “But it couldn’t just be that one feather, it felt like a whole wall of them.”

“Maybe there was a bird up in the tree with us,” Dason said.

Tala stared at the feather. “That would be some monster bird.”

“Maybe it was the Culloo,” he said, stuffing the lower tip of the feather into his back pocket and flapping his arms around.

“Don’t be silly,” she said. “You know those things only exist in stories. In any case,” she said with a shrug.

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