Brogue 2007 - Belhaven College

t h e b r o g u e
The weather hadn’t been ideal, but he had made it off the mountain
without much difficulty, and he was stretched out in a forest clearing that
was all too familiar. The last time Carin had found him was as he was leaving
on a long trek. She was seven then, and stubborn. She refused to go back.
Bob knew this was impossible, even risky, but he suppressed his better judgment
and let her stay with him for a while, and taught her things like how
cryptogams, the lichen and liverworts and mosses, held in water like a sponge
and kept the forest cool and dank for the elks and birds and slugs. He was always
careful with her: he had a gentle manner with wild things, and animals
weren’t afraid of him. He taught her how long ago people used to make beds
out of moss, and the particular idea thrilled her, of sleeping each night on a
mossy mattress and foraging for berries and mushrooms for food.
“But what if they were poisonous?” she asked, skipping beside him to
keep up with his long strides.
“Well, they died, and people remembered this and no one else ate
them.”
She mulled this over and accepted it as fair. Later they lay side by side
in the moss, imagining this lost world, and she told him stories from school,
like the one day in first grade when a boy at her table had eaten apples seeds
on a dare even though they were poisonous and he could have died.
That night, Bob showed her how to build a small shelter from fir
boughs, and she slept well, comforted by the closeness of the trees. The next
morning they began their hike back, and he told her in no uncertain terms
that she must never come and visit him again.
“No,” she said.
He wasn’t surprised by her reply or by her obstinacy, but he did his best
to explain, “You can depend on the forest. You can depend on the forest and
on yourself.”
“I want to stay with you, baba-bees!” She grabbed his pants leg. He
stopped walking and looked down at her, gravely.
“You can’t.”
“Why not!” It wasn’t a question, but he answered it anyway.
“Because your parents, and lots of other people in town, think it’s
strange that an old man like me is spending so much time alone with a little
girl like you.”
“But you’re my friend! You teach me things.” They were almost to her
backyard. He picked up his pace and she tripped trying to catch up. Bob
knelt down and looked her in the eyes.
“Listen to me: people are hurtful. Especially when they get old. They
only suspect the worst in other people. Do you know what ‘suspect’ means?”
She nodded. He doubted she did, but he didn’t have time to explain, so he
tried another tack.
“I’m your friend right? And friends don’t get their friends into trouble,
right?” He thought he heard footsteps. “Well, if you keep trying to find me,
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