Lost in the River of Grass by Ginny Rorby

Author:Ginny Rorby [Rorby Ginny]
Language: ita
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780761371618
Publisher: Lerner Publishing Group

…

There’s no way to tell how much time passes; long enough for the numbness in my legs to set in again. Some time later, Andy starts to snore, which makes me feel totally deserted.

Now that the storm is over, the glades are full of noise once more. By the brightness of the moon, birds scold and bat each other with their wings, jockeying for position. Each species of frog has its own distinct croak. I can recognize bullfrogs and pig frogs, which grunt like miniature hogs, and the little tree frogs, whose call has a higher pitch. They all stop when something screams. From somewhere in the shadows, I hear a low rumbling kind of growl.

“Panther,” Andy whispers.

“How close?”

“Not too.”

Hours pass before I finally doze off. If my hand hadn’t slipped off my lap and whacked a branch, I wouldn’t believe I’d slept at all. A little later, the mosquitoes begin to bite again. I carefully pry the can out of the crotch in the tree and apply a fresh coat. The can feels depressingly lighter. It’s Sunday. If we don’t get out until Tuesday, it won’t last. Not with both of us using it.

The next thing I know, something’s burning my left shoulder. I open my eyes. The sun. I try to move, but every inch of me hurts. I glance up to see if Andy is awake. He isn’t there. I sit up with a start and look around. He’s gone, and so are all the birds. “Andy!” I scream.

From the backpack comes frantic peeping and the sound of toenails on canvas.

“Andy?” I’m trying not to panic. What will I do if he’s left me? How long has he been gone? Long enough to break a leg, be bitten by a snake, or killed and eaten by an alligator. Should I try to find him or stay here? Maybe he’s gone on ahead without me slowing him down, and will send help back for me. He should have told me what he was going to do.

What’s that? I hold my breath and listen. Splashing. Something in the water coming closer. “Andy?”

“Morning.”

“Where were you?”

“Answering nature’s call.”

“Huh? Oh. Where are all the birds?”

“They left at dawn.”

“I guess I really did fall asleep.”

“Snored like a lumberjack.”

“I did not.” I unhook the backpack and hand it down to him. “Someone wants out.”

Andy, holding the pack above his head, walks out the path through the willows and grass to the water. When he unzips the top, Teapot leaps out and swims in ecstatic little circles, flapping her stubby wings. She drinks by dipping her beak and lifting her head, then starts to hunt for food, slurping up floating bits of green stuff and poking her head below the surface, her little downy brown butt in the air. Andy and I watch her for a minute, then look at each other and smile.

I slept with my remaining boot on, figuring it would be easier to find one lost boot than two. The rain had

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