Guerrillas in the Glen
Gordon Stearns

Chapter 8
Longest of Nights
page 2 of 3

As the crickets continued to chirp, Hyde whispered hesitantly, "I not protect my tree, Figan. I had my pikes and I do nothing. I not even try to stop the saw." "There, there, Hyde," comforted Figan softly, "there was nothing either of us could have done. The Dad had the horrid eel-tooth to protect his young. We could not have saved the tree, and I would have felt just awful if anything had happened to you." Hyde was quiet for a very long time, deeply lost in thought. As the night gathered its black cloak about the glen, a brilliant full moon rose into the starry heavens. When Hyde finally spoke again, his voice seemed to come from a great distance. "I hate the hand saw and I hate those humans. But I not blame you anymore for the hole, Figan. The fog covered it all up. We not see it." "Thank you, Hyde," Figan murmured, gently rubbing Hyde's head again. Throughout this longest of nights, the two friends became comrades for life. Figan had gone to fetch more berries when Hyde finally arose from his lifeless tree. Hyde slowly and purposefully drew himself erect. As Figan returned, Hyde emerged from the shadows. The waning moon bathed his features in a ghostly light.
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Guerrillas in the Glen Copyright 1997, 1998 Gordon Stearns
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