Quitetly, Quiggly stepped into the darkness as he stealthily approached and steeled his heart. In his hands he carried an unyielding cudgel. The ground began to tremble beneath his feet. It shook violently and a tremendous boom erupted. Quiggly trembled and dropped his makeshift club. It was as if someone had pounded his hand with a hammer. The blast of sound rang in his ears. He looked up and saw a great cloud of dust and smoke. The mountain was in front of him now. It stood alone, a rocky peak looming high above the plains, taller than the tallest of trees. The mountain had come forth from the earth! Quiggly could see it plain as day. The mountain's top formed a small flat peak, like a bald head. The peak of the mountain was all black stone; as if it were covered with tar. Around the peak was a ring of rocky cliffs, rising in the distance, as far as Quiggly could see. His eyes were adjusting to the darkness and he could see the cliff face now. It was black, too. A tall, straight crack, carved cleanly into the rock, stretched from top to bottom. And it was black, not a speck of color could be seen in its depths. Quiggly looked up again. The mountain reared like a giant black jagged wall, in front of him. It must be the wall he heard about, for people to live inside the mountain. No wonder they were afraid of him. If he could climb that wall, he could enter the mountain. At first the ascent did not look too difficult. He could see a few tiny hand- and foot-holds, even a few ledges. If he hurried, he might be able to reach the peak before the sun disappeared, and stay there until morning. As he climbed, he would see the valley for the first time. Quiggly set off with strong, sure strides. He climbed higher, and higher, and higher. His fingers and toes grew raw and blistered, the skin peeling away, blood dripping down his hands and feet. He slipped once and, although the drop was only a few inches, his bruised and injured hands were so painful that he cried out. He felt as if someone had struck him with a thousand tiny sticks. He was so shaken he needed to take several deep breaths before continuing. When he reached the halfway point, he could see the mountain was much higher than he thought. His strength drained. He was weak, and his wounds hurt. He looked up, as far as he could. A small patch of sky was visible from the high point. It was not like the little gray patches of sky he was used to seeing in the forest and fields. This little patch was blue, with tiny white clouds like fluffy cotton balls blowing through it. The sky above was a deep black, like velvet. As he watched, the patch of sky grew larger, and larger. He felt dizzy, his head spinning. His fingers slipped. He fell backwards and looked down. His feet could not find a place to land. His arms pinwheeled helplessly. Below him was a sharp drop, sheer as a wall. If he were to fall from here, he would surely die. He needed to climb down now, before he blacked out from exhaustion. Quiggly slowly began to inch his way back to the ground. Before he had taken more than three steps, he felt as if the mountain were collapsing on him. For a long time he lay sprawled on the ground, trying to catch his breath. After what seemed like an eternity, he slowly sat up. His arms, face, and arms were burning with pain. He was so weak and tired that he could hardly stand. He took out his whistle, the last of his provisions. He placed it in his mouth. The air around the mountain began to shake, then the rumble of thunder. Quiggly took out his map and stared at it. It was beginning to rain. He would be soaked in a few minutes. "What's the point of going up here, if I have to come back down?" he said aloud. Quiggly looked down at the little hole of light from his whistle. The rain was hitting the top of the mountain. His clothes would be soaked. It was better to stay where he was, and call out to anyone who might come. Quiggly felt so cold that he gave up trying to keep his feet warm. He sat down in the freezing rain and thought about home. He wondered if his mother would be worried about him. It must have been hard for her when he left, she might think he was lost. He thought about his friends, too. Would they be looking for him now? They would say he ran away from home. Quiggly knew his parents were worried about him. They didn't understand that he had to get away. They would never understand. He should have known they would never understand. They were worried about him, and they would miss him. He looked up at the mountain. A small break in the clouds made a bright spot on the tip of the great peak. He closed his eyes and thought about the home he had made for himself. He saw himself as a young man, just as strong as the other men in the tribe. He saw himself riding to war with his friends, and then riding home to make a wife. It would never happen for him. How could he ever hope to become a warrior if he was not strong? He would never have a wife, and he would never be a part of a family. That was why he had to escape home. No one understood him. He needed to find a place where he could be a man, with his own place. Quiggly's heart pounded in his chest. How could he get away from home? Where would he go? I am a bird, he thought. He recalled what he had heard of birds. The birds have wings, they can fly. The birds go wherever they want. # **The Fishing Hole** "What's the matter?" Mrs. Burlap asked as she looked over her sewing. The light from the oil lamp, on the floor behind the loom, was flickering. "Are you all right?" Quiggly shook his head. "Mrs. Burlap, do you see anything flying around? Or anything unusual?" Mrs. Burlap looked puzzled, then she looked out the window. "No. Why, do you?" "You told me there was an eagle's nest around here. I thought I saw one earlier." "Yes. But we haven't seen the eagle for a long time. How long has it been? A week?" Quiggly shook his head. "This morning, at sunrise, I saw the eagle come to perch on the pinnacle. I thought it was wonderful. Just the two of us. At least I think that's what it was." "Yes, the eagle makes the place look bigger." Mrs. Burlap pulled the needle through the edge of the cloth, and threaded it. "I don't know what you saw." "A bird?" Quiggly said. He paused. "Or a man." He leaned closer to the window. "And there was another one, too." Mrs. Burlap pulled the end of the needle through the thread, and looked up. "Well. What did you see?" "You really should be careful. That's the second time this week I've seen someone following me. I can tell. When I came into the cabin today, a rock almost hit me. It must be those men from near the mountains. They're trying to kill me. Or rob me. I know that for sure, if they really are just people who've never had the opportunity to be on the outside like you. Here, I brought you something to eat. Cheese and hard-boiled egg. I think you'll like it." Mrs. Burlap unwrapped the cloth from around the egg and cheese. She carefully took a bite of the egg, then cut a piece off the corner of the cloth. She took the cheese, then looked up. "The bread is gone, too." "You can make some more." Quiggly took a piece of meat from his pocket. "I saved this for you." He handed it to her. "I wanted to cook it for you. You'll like it." "No, I don't want the meat. Thank you. I really don't think I can eat that. But thank you." Mrs. Burlap unwrapped the cloth and set the food on a clean spot on the floor. "Aren't you going to eat the cheese?" Quiggly asked. "It has to be a lot better than what we have." Mrs. Burlap shrugged. "I don't know. You're the one who's always telling me to eat healthy things. I don't want to spend the whole day throwing up." "Well, you have to eat something." Quiggly pulled the bread from his pocket. "I saved this." "You saved it? All the bread?" "It was the only thing I could save." "I'll try it, but I might not like it." Mrs. Burlap took the bread, cut off a small piece, and chewed it