Free Nature Girl by Jane Kelley Page A

that either.
    The dark is a misty gray now. I guess the sun’s getting ready to come up. I’m hoping that it’ll be easier to sleep when it’s daylight.
    Then I hear a noise I haven’t ever heard before.
    Outside the shelter, something is snuffling and rustling in the dead leaves.
    It’s probably Arp. Sure, my good old Loyal Dog must have gone outside to pee. The reason the noise is so much bigger than a little dog is because all noises sound bigger when you’re lying by yourself in a shelter with only two walls to keep out what’s in the Woods.
    Then I hear a little growl right by my feet.
    It’s Arp, getting all tense and bristly. So he isn’t the one outside. And obviously I’m not imagining the sounds, because he hears them too.
    Arp barks. I grab him and hold his mouth shut. I hopeif we’re really quiet, whatever is snuffling and rustling will just snuffle and rustle right past us.
    The sound gets closer and closer until it’s a few yards away from the walls. My heart jumps up and down like a person on a trampoline.
    There are cracks between the boards. Some are big enough for me to put my finger through. I could lean over and peek at whatever is snuffling and rustling. Do I want to see what’s going to eat me? Are you the kind of person who watches the needle get closer and closer when the doctor gives you a shot? Or are you the kind who covers your eyes because what’s the point of looking when it’s going to happen NO MATTER WHAT?
    Well, I don’t look. What can I say? I’m a coward. I pull the poncho over my head and scrunch up in a ball with my arms locked around Arp and my knees.
    The rustling noise gets closer and closer.
    Then something knocks against the side of the shelter with a huge THUMP!
    The thump isn’t a bump, like an accidental excuse-me bump. The thump has claws that scratch along the wall.
    What can it possibly be?
    But I still don’t peek. I hope that if I don’t look at it, then it won’t look at me. I know, I know, that’s an incredibly stupid hope. But basically that’s all the hoping I have left. And anyway, if I see the thing see me, I think I’ll die of fright. Maybe you think dying of fright is just an expression. But if you’re huddled under a flimsypiece of plastic, and if a THING WITH CLAWS is on the other side of a wall just a few feet from your head, and if your heart isn’t even beating anymore, it’s just quivering in your chest, then maybe you’ll realize that dying of fright is not only possible but probable. The more I think about it, dying from fright is better than getting eaten alive.
    I stop thinking all these thoughts when I hear the THING WITH CLAWS walk into the shelter. I guess it finally figured out it didn’t need to rip through the walls, since most of those walls are missing.
    Arp is really going wild now, but I keep a tight grip on him.
    My eyes are still shut tight, but I can’t shut my ears or my nose. Now I can actually hear the THING WITH CLAWS breathing. It makes a strange wheezing whistle when the air goes in and out of its nose. And it has a very strong smell. Much worse than wet dog. Plus, it’s a bigger smell, so it must be a bigger animal.
    The THING WITH CLAWS snuffles around over by the post that holds up the roof. I’m a little puzzled about why it isn’t bothering with us, but not too puzzled, because I have very little brain available for wondering about stuff, since it’s mostly paralyzed with fright.
    Then I hear the THING WITH CLAWS grunt. The grunt noise moves higher. Did it grow taller somehow? Or just stand up?
    Then I hear the rustle of plastic. That’s right, plastic.You know that sound. When Mom’s driving to the farmhouse with me in the backseat next to all the groceries, if I slip my hand into a bag to sneak a cookie, no matter how careful I am, the bag goes
rustle rustle crinkle
. Then Mom says, “Megan, what are you doing?” even though it’s obvious because I’ve been busted by a plastic bag.
    Snuffle