Page 51 - Hatchet
P. 51
coming through the door again.
A friend and a guard, he thought.
So much from a little spark. A friend and a guard from a tiny spark.
He looked around and wished he had somebody to tell this thing, to show this
thing he had done. But there was nobody.
Nothing but the trees and the sun and the breeze and the lake.
Nobody.
And he thought, rolling thoughts, with the smoke curling up over his head and
the smile still half on his face he thought: I wonder what they’re doing now. I wonder what my father is doing now.
I wonder what my mother is doing now.
I wonder if she is with him.
