The Lost Story

by Meg Shaffer

In a nearby rhododendron, a robin woke and started a song. Rafe spotted him on a low branch. He had a bright red breast and one oddball white feather in his wing. Rafe always paid attention to birds. It was the birds who’d warned him about the intruders. Rafe had gone on his usual hike yesterday, climbing to the Queen’s Tower Rock, where he could survey all of Starcross Hill. He made the trek daily, and the animals had long ago accepted him as part of the landscape. He could sit in the shade by the silver creek that wound down his hill. Deer would stand five feet away from him to drink, barely blinking at his presence. Coyotes jogged past him on the game trails. Birds kept singing when he passed under their branches. Except yesterday, the birds had been suspiciously silent. High on Queen’s Tower Rock, he’d peered through his binoculars and spotted tire tracks on the neighbor’s logging road. Poachers. And they were back again. When his breathing eased, he started off again. The robin’s song suddenly changed into a loud whinny. Rafe froze, then heard a soft rustle of leaves. His eyes, now accustomed to the low light, spotted a fat black rat snake, nearly six feet long, darting across the trail, disappearing under leaves. He’d almost stepped on it. He glanced at the robin and whispered, “Thanks, buddy.” Then he hiked on, telling himself “further up and further in,” which was something Jeremy used to say when they were hiking, though he didn’t remember what he’d gotten it from...