Land That I Loved
A girl leaves her past behind but where will that leave her?
By: Emma Drew
Prologue- Leaving It All Behind
I dashed across the clouded meadow. Across the land that I once loved and adored. I’m leaving this wretched place once and for all, I told myself, and there’s no way I’m coming back. I soon reentered the swamp. The Everglades, the place I so frequently visited. My parents didn’t approve of me wandering through the nearly submerged, gator-infested forest but I didn’t care. It was either get lost in the swamp while chasing for lizards or stay at home trying to drown out my parents fighting with my stereo.
The trees whizzed by and the birds chirped angrily as they fluttered away. As if out of nowhere a root that had been buried by the dead leaves appeared on the path. Of course I trip over it. Scraped up by the fall and cut by the whip-like branches, I jumped back up and continued to stumble through the pitch-dark Everglades.
Tears rolled down my cheeks as I remembered everything that I was running from: the feuding foster parents, the man who killed my first family, my devilish foster sister, and my pathetic excuse of a life. The only things I regret leaving are my foster brother and my beautiful golden retriever, Nikela.
I’ll return for, Nikela, I promised silently, someday, I’ll return for you. She was the only reason I would ever come back.
About four hours later I reached the other side of the Glades. It was then that I decided to rest a bit. I searched the edge of the swamp until I found a suitable place sleep then collapsed. I quickly fell into a deep slumber.
I awoke the next day to a lizard scratching at my nose. It took all my self-control to keep from screaming at the two beady eyes that were a little less than an inch from my lavender ones. Gently, I pried the little monster from my face. I then kissed him goodbye and told him to stay off of people’s faces.
“Other people wouldn’t just let you go,” I explained to him, “they’d pitch you half way across the state of Florida.”
I smiled as he scampered away. Painfully I stood up, my joints stiff from all the running I had done yesterday and from sleeping on the hard ground. You had better get used to it girlie, I scolded myself, you’ll be doing this for a long time.
Across the Everglades, my foster family would be waking up soon. About an hour after they wake they’ll send my sister, Caroline, to wake me up for breakfast. She’ll find my bed empty and she’ll tell my parents that I ‘snuck out again’ and they’ll wait for two more hours before going out to look for me. Their anger will quickly turn to fear when they return and find the letter that I left for them. Kevin, my brother, will probably be the one to find it. He’ll open it and read:
Dear Kevin,
I’m sorry to leave without saying goodbye but I just wouldn’t be able to handle that and I know that you would try to stop me again. Life has been getting harder and harder to bear at home. With Mom and Dad constantly fighting, Caroline bugging me to no end, school getting harder to concentrate on, and never having time for myself anymore I just couldn’t stay in that house any longer. Take good care of Nikela for me and again, I’m sorry.
Your sister,
Kymbr
After walking for three and a half hours I decided to sit and rest a bit. I eased my shoes off my throbbing feet and pulled a small pebble out of my foot.
“Well, that explains why my foot has been hurting so much,” I sighed. I chucked it and put my shoes back on.
It was two days later and the sun hung low in the sky when I finally reached Miami. I stood on a hill overlooking the city for a second. It was a magnificent sight: the sunset fading behind the glowing lights of the shops and homes. I’d been here a couple times before with Kevin but that was in the middle of the day. I can’t believe it, I thought, I made it all the way to Miami.
After stopping at the mall to buy some clothes for the trip, I made my way to the airport. Upon arrival I purchased a plane ticket to South Africa. Maybe I’ll get to see some cheetahs, I thought, trying to ease my mind. I boarded the plane, took my seat, turned my CD player on, and prepared myself for the long journey ahead of me.
Chapter 1- An African Adventure
The next day I was in South Africa and recovering from a bad case of jetlag in a hotel room. I never realized that flying to Africa could take so much out of you, I thought.
After a good night of sleep I was up and running again. I checked out of the hotel and made my way out of town. The wilderness was where I really felt at home but the animals here were very different than those back in the Everglades and I was going to have to be careful. It was then that I was glad that I had made so many trips to the library. All those hours I spent reading about wildlife and plants around the world were really about to pay off. Luckily, I stocked up on food and water before I left the city or I would have been in some real trouble by now. The weather here was much drier compared to the moist climate of southern Florida. No worries though, I knew how to take care of myself in the wild. First, I needed to find a place to set up camp where I wouldn’t be an easy target for predators. I wandered around for a bit and finally found my campsite. It was a nice shady spot next to an old, hollowed-out baobab tree. It was out of the sun and I could dart into the hole in the trunk if need be.
Slowly, I started to pull things out of my bag: my sleeping bag, the knife I bought in town, some food, a small calico bag to put it in, and an assortment of other things. I flew up the tree with ease and cut down a few branches to build a shelter.
“Well, hello there, little guy,” I said to a little snake slithering around next to my feet. It was a sand boa. I never imagined I’d ever get to see a sand boa in the wild, I thought in amazement. Quickly, I pulled out my notebook, camera, and a tape measure. I then measured the boa’s length and took his picture. I wanted to be a wildlife photographer when I was older so I had to get as much practice as I could get.
“Bye, cutie,” I said to him as he disappeared underneath the desert sand, “Back to work.”
A couple hours later and I had my shelter built and a nice fire going. I pulled my blanket around me as I watched the sun roll below the horizon.
Even though I knew that the fire would keep the predators at bay I still couldn’t sleep. Every time I closed my eyes I saw the face. The face of the man that ruined my life. If it weren’t for him killing my family I wouldn’t be here. I wouldn’t be sitting by this fire, I’d be at home on the couch watching TV with my dad like I used to. I wouldn’t be running from my life, running from my new family. I’d be listening to my little twin sisters bickering in the other room and my mother trying to break them up. That was the last thing I remembered about my family because two seconds later I was lying unconscious on the floor while Mom tried to protect my sisters and me. Dad was already gone at this point. He was the one who opened the door. Well, that’s how I remembered it. I was only seven-years-old when it happened. The next day I was on my way to some city in southern Florida. That’s how I ended up here in Africa. I couldn’t stand my foster home. Actually, it was my third foster home. None of the previous ones could handle me. My epilepsy was too much for them.
I’m eight-years-old and already suffering from life-threatening seizures. Life sucks, a young me thought. Any second now I knew that my new foster parents would round the corner. After spending almost a year in protective custody while those so-called “detectives” found that lunatic, I was about to finally go home with my new family. I was excited but terrified. “What if he gets out and hurts them too?” I had asked my police officer. “That’s not going to happen, I promise,” she had told me. Still, I couldn’t help but worry.
I was so naive then. I didn’t know how cruel the world could be. Since that day, life’s been going down hill but I can still pick myself up. I don’t know how long I sat there beside the ever-dying fire but before I knew it, it was morning and I hadn’t slept a wink.
“So much for my first night in Africa,” I mumbled, “I haven’t slept nor enjoyed the nocturnal sound.”
I sighed, told myself to get over it, and got to work. (And there was a lot of it!)
By midday I had finished my granola breakfast, cleaned up camp, explored a bit, and started lunch. (Well, I really only made a peanut butter sandwich.)
A week later found me sitting on a high branch in the tree, gazing across the savannah. I was slowing drifting to sleep when I heard a screeching cry. My head snapped up and I lost my balance on the branch. I hit the ground with a thud and a low groan. Oxygen poured into my lungs as gasped for breath.
“Ok, yeah, that hurt,” I coughed.
I pulled myself up and glanced around, looking for the source of the cry. When I looked toward the river, I saw what looked like a black furball trying to scramble away from the thrashing hooves of a huge Zebra stallion. I watched for a second, the situation not quite registering in my mind. Then without thinking I grabbed my knife and charged over to where the small, black animal now laid in a badly beaten mass.
I knelt down beside the little broken thing. As I made a mental log of its injures, I was amazed to find that the heap of bloody, black fur was in fact a female black leopard. She couldn’t have been more than four-months-old.
“You’re a long way from home,” I said calmly, still checking her over. Overhead a vulture cried and I knew that I needed to get the leopard out of the open. I gently cradled her in my arms and carried her into the shade of the old baobab. Back at the tree, I laid her on my sleeping bag and got my first aid kit out of my khaki knapsack.
An hour later and I had her patched up. (Vet books, gotta love ‘em.) As she slept, I made a small lunch for two.
Two months, I thought as I gazed past the glowing heat of the fire, I’ve been here for two months. Africa was so peaceful yet at the same time completely alive. For the first time in a long time, I let my mind drift back to my old home. My lavender eyes filled with tears as I thought.
“Kevin,” I whispered, “I’m sorry.” I then closed my eyes and cried myself to sleep.
The next day I got up with the sun. I stood, carefully, as to not wake my little leopard. We had become inseparable since the day I found her clinging to life. Today, I decided, was the day I’d give her a name as a symbol of our bond. For an hour possible names raced through my head. As quickly as I thought them, however, I discarded them. I was so deep in thought, I didn’t notice that she had gotten up and crawled into my lap. I smiled as she woke up, yawned, and went straight back to sleep. I don’t know just how long I sat, staring at her but the next thing I knew, I was waking to a scratchy little tongue licking my face.
“Obsidian, quit it!” I moaned, rolling over, (Wait for it!) “Wait just a darned second! Obsidian! That’s perfect!”
I scoped her up in my arms. The leopard gave out a surprised cry. From across the plain came shrill screams. I hurried Obsidian into the baobab, all the while keeping my eyes in the direction of the commotion. By the time I got Obsidian to stay in the trunk and peeked out, the noise had died down and all that remained was a fleeing herd of Zebras and a pride of lions gorging themselves on an unlucky mare. I sighed, thanking God that the pride was well enough away from my camp.
Three weeks later, and I was packing my things. I loved that old baobab by the river but was in desperate need of a change in scenery. When I’d finished stuffing everything into my now bulging knapsack, I slung it over my shoulder and started walking across the desert. The overly excited, six-month-old Obsidian was bounding happily behind me.
Within two days Obsidian and I had setup camp in a cave in the face of a high escarpment. (And, folks, it’s not exactly the brightest idea to have an over-active leopard cup on a high cliff.) The crazy little furball would dart over to the edge of the ledge, roar (thinking she was all big and bad), then run back and hide behind me if she got an answer. The fun and laughter soon ended, however.
It was a hot (and, honey, I do mean hot!) day in Africa, where even in our little cave it was easily 96 degrees. No life was seen for at least a hundred miles. The large game animals and predators were safely tucked away in the cover of the acacia trees. Bugs were hidden by the desert bushes and the snakes and lizards sought shelter beneath the sand and rocks. (Heck, I found about fourteen small reptiles in the cave alone.) Amazingly, even Obsidian was quiet and still, Unfortunately for me, her calmness didn’t last long and she was up and romping around again in no time. (Guess who had to chase after her… you guessed it: me!) keeping track of her was no small feet, let me tell you! She was into everything. I frequently had to pull frightened, squirming lizards from her ever playful, ever troublesome paws. (Thank God she never killed any of them.) With one of these we weren’t so lucky, however.
It was just another scorching hot day in the cave and as usual, Obsidian is getting into all sorts of trouble. The little leopard loves to practice her hunting skills on the little critters sharing our cavernous home. She rarely ever makes a successful catch and she’s never killed anything (again, thank God) so all was good. Well, at least I thought it was until she got her paws on a big little critter.
“Obsidian, put that down!” I shrieked. A young cobra was hissing and trying to bite its way out of Obsidian’s grasp and she was having a good old time whacking it in the head then dodging its fangs. It was a King from the looks of it. Which meant trouble for me and possibly Obsidian’s life if she got bit.
My mind was screaming at me to snatch the cobra away from her, but would risk a bite for me as well. Before I could come up with a better idea, the leopard cub let loose a yelp/snarl. The snake had tagged her, sinking its fangs into her right forearm. Without thinking, I grabbed its tail and ripped it off of her and pitched towards the cave entrance. After hitting the ground, it turned, gave me a shrill warning, and slivered off.
I turned my attention to Obsidian. She was lying on the ground, licking the two puncture wounds on her arm. I rushed and grabbed my pack and knelt beside her. Pulling an ace bandage out of the first aid kit, I scoped her into my lap, and began wrapping it firmly around the injured limb. My heart was pounding and I wanted to cry, but I had to stay strong for her. She needed me right now.
That night I couldn’t sleep. Obsidian wasn’t looking very good. She was drowsy and her breathing was shallow. I laid down next to her, stroking her soft, black fur. That seemed to put her at ease and she fell into a restless sleep. I continued to watch her throughout the night, not daring to go to sleep for fear of what I might wake up to. My only comfort was the rough sound of the cub’s breathing and the soft crackle of the fire. A single tear slid down my cheek.
“I can’t loose you,” I whimpered, breaking into sobs. And with that, I cried myself to sleep.
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