Saving Fish from Drowning - Heal Burma

SAVING FISH FROM DROWNING
soil-rich nooks and crannies of trees. Birds called warning. Some­
where in the distance, a branch creaked with the weight of an un­
known creature, possibly a monkey. With small intakes of breath, my
friends registered their astonishment.
“Amazing.” “Heavenly.” “Surreal.” It was their unanimous opin­
ion that Walter—and I, posthumously—had done a superb job in
taking them to such a spectacular haven for their Christmas gift.
Lunch no doubt was in those baskets and would be served picnic
style. But where was Walter, anyway?
“Where’s Walter?” Moff asked.
Black Spot pointed ahead to an opening through a web of green.
“We are just going up this way.” By now, Grease and Fishbones had
finished replacing the leafy gate. From here on, Black Spot said, they
would walk. Walk? My friends were puzzled. What more besides this
was there to see? What could be farther ahead? Well, obviously, some­
thing even better. Without questioning their new leader, they began
to trudge through the tricky undergrowth, stepping where Black Spot
had slashed out a path.
Bennie wiped his brow. “Walter said we’d be doing a bit of
walking—talk about understatement.”
Like good little schoolchildren, they followed Black Spot into the
rainforest. They did not even know his name. Yet they went blindly,
willingly, going closer and closer to a tribe that had been waiting for
them for more than a hundred years.
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