away I can see their twin pairs of jaws snap open and shut with expectation.
Shaking, I take a step closer to the edge of the chasm, realizing that I‘ve inadvertently trapped myself. The dogs have set off at a run toward me and I have less than a minute, maybe half a minute, to do something. But what?
I can‘t scale down into the canyon. It‘s a two-hundred-foot drop at least. I can‘t even see the bottom. Maybe there is no bottom.
For the first time, it hits me that I might die here. Alone, in the past, killed by impossible, vicious creatures. My speech about positive thinking?
What bunk. I didn‘t really believe it then and I don‘t believe it now, because life is annoying. You meet a guy and you have to run away from him, and you can‘t make it to the Oracle because of a giant chasm and wild dogs, and there‘s no way to think my way out of this one. I can smell fur and saliva, I swear that I can.
The dogs are approaching fast. They‘re close enough that I can make out their yellow eyes.
And the scary hump of muscle along their backs and upper shoulders. Each head has a set of razor-sharp teeth, and as the dogs get closer, snarling and drooling with anticipation, I can‘t look at them anymore or I‘ll freeze and be eaten alive. Instead, I look behind me, desperately searching for some way across the wide spanning chasm.
I hear a crumbling sound, and then I watch as a gray stone step detaches from the side and hovers a foot away from the precipice. It‘s heavier and clumsier-looking than the stone lily pads I made at the lake, but I‘m hardly in a position to be choosy.
Gingerly, I step onto the stone. The dogs slow down as they near the edge, glancing at one another as if to assess whether this is a threat. I think about myself suspended hundreds of feet above a chasm and my mind flashes to the moment in the lake when the stones crumbled and—
No, no! Don‘t think about that now, Zoe. Focus.
And bam! Another stone step appears. This time I jump because the dogs are barking now.
They‘ve realized I‘m fleeing and they won‘t let me go so easily. I‘m only a few feet into the chasm, jittery on the rock that might split apart. If only this were like the rope bridges in the photos that Greeley kids post after they go to Costa Rica. Those bridges have railings and those kids have harnesses, and if I look down— no , don‘t look down.
Look forward.
The alpha dog clenches its two sets of jaws and it paws at the air, sizing up the distance between us. I have to move fast. My powers aren‘t as potent when I move fast, but what can I do?
The next stone step appears, thinner than the first two, and I‘m on it and it‘s weak, but before I can panic, I‘m onto the next one. And just as I‘m thinking I‘m far enough away from the edge so that the pack can‘t possibly get to me, the alpha dog lets out a bloodcurdling howl.
Then it jumps onto the first stone.
With a scream, I lunge for the next step. I‘m making them as fast as I can, but I can‘t break them and make them at the same time, so I try to make them skinny enough to slow down the dog‘s pursuit. It‘s a nerve-racking chase and all I can think of as I‘m staggering across the canyon is, Not like this. I will not go out chased by a dog. And then I‘m two stones away from the other side of the chasm, and once I‘m safely there, I can smash the remaining stones to bits and the dog will fall into the nothingness.
I summon the final hovering stone step and hop onto it with triumph, knowing that I‘m close enough to steady land to finally make it. Only I failed to consider that the dog can jump much farther than I can, and with horror I see it lunge from the step and straight for me. It‘s in the air, all teeth and claws extended, ready to slam me onto the other side and tear me in half.
Instinctively I turn away, covering my head with my arms to protect myself from the lunging beast. My eyes are squeezed tight and
Shaking, I take a step closer to the edge of the chasm, realizing that I‘ve inadvertently trapped myself. The dogs have set off at a run toward me and I have less than a minute, maybe half a minute, to do something. But what?
I can‘t scale down into the canyon. It‘s a two-hundred-foot drop at least. I can‘t even see the bottom. Maybe there is no bottom.
For the first time, it hits me that I might die here. Alone, in the past, killed by impossible, vicious creatures. My speech about positive thinking?
What bunk. I didn‘t really believe it then and I don‘t believe it now, because life is annoying. You meet a guy and you have to run away from him, and you can‘t make it to the Oracle because of a giant chasm and wild dogs, and there‘s no way to think my way out of this one. I can smell fur and saliva, I swear that I can.
The dogs are approaching fast. They‘re close enough that I can make out their yellow eyes.
And the scary hump of muscle along their backs and upper shoulders. Each head has a set of razor-sharp teeth, and as the dogs get closer, snarling and drooling with anticipation, I can‘t look at them anymore or I‘ll freeze and be eaten alive. Instead, I look behind me, desperately searching for some way across the wide spanning chasm.
I hear a crumbling sound, and then I watch as a gray stone step detaches from the side and hovers a foot away from the precipice. It‘s heavier and clumsier-looking than the stone lily pads I made at the lake, but I‘m hardly in a position to be choosy.
Gingerly, I step onto the stone. The dogs slow down as they near the edge, glancing at one another as if to assess whether this is a threat. I think about myself suspended hundreds of feet above a chasm and my mind flashes to the moment in the lake when the stones crumbled and—
No, no! Don‘t think about that now, Zoe. Focus.
And bam! Another stone step appears. This time I jump because the dogs are barking now.
They‘ve realized I‘m fleeing and they won‘t let me go so easily. I‘m only a few feet into the chasm, jittery on the rock that might split apart. If only this were like the rope bridges in the photos that Greeley kids post after they go to Costa Rica. Those bridges have railings and those kids have harnesses, and if I look down— no , don‘t look down.
Look forward.
The alpha dog clenches its two sets of jaws and it paws at the air, sizing up the distance between us. I have to move fast. My powers aren‘t as potent when I move fast, but what can I do?
The next stone step appears, thinner than the first two, and I‘m on it and it‘s weak, but before I can panic, I‘m onto the next one. And just as I‘m thinking I‘m far enough away from the edge so that the pack can‘t possibly get to me, the alpha dog lets out a bloodcurdling howl.
Then it jumps onto the first stone.
With a scream, I lunge for the next step. I‘m making them as fast as I can, but I can‘t break them and make them at the same time, so I try to make them skinny enough to slow down the dog‘s pursuit. It‘s a nerve-racking chase and all I can think of as I‘m staggering across the canyon is, Not like this. I will not go out chased by a dog. And then I‘m two stones away from the other side of the chasm, and once I‘m safely there, I can smash the remaining stones to bits and the dog will fall into the nothingness.
I summon the final hovering stone step and hop onto it with triumph, knowing that I‘m close enough to steady land to finally make it. Only I failed to consider that the dog can jump much farther than I can, and with horror I see it lunge from the step and straight for me. It‘s in the air, all teeth and claws extended, ready to slam me onto the other side and tear me in half.
Instinctively I turn away, covering my head with my arms to protect myself from the lunging beast. My eyes are squeezed tight and
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