Free Fish by L.S. Matthews

looking at just as she jumped sideways, I'd caught a glimpse of a disappearing bushy tail, held low.
    “Some kind of dog again,” I said, checking across at the Guide with my eyes, for confirmation that he'd seen the same thing.
    He nodded.
    “And I'd just made that quip about your wolf bringing us another rabbit!” said Dad. “I bet it was the same one!”
    “No, it couldn't have been,” I said firmly, and they all looked questioningly at me, except perhaps the Guide, who looked as if he knew what I was going to say.
    “Because the donkey saw my dog, or wolf, lastnight. I think that's why
I
wasn't scared. Because
she
wasn't.”
    Mum and Dad didn't seem to know quite what to make of this, but looked over interestedly at the donkey, who just looked back at them rather blankly.
    After this incident, the Guide walked in front of the donkey, to give her reassurance in case she saw anything scary again. I felt sorry for her. She kept well away from the edge now, but kept tilting her head to look up at the outcrop, just in case there was anything up there about to leap upon her.
    In the end, she must have grown tired of twisting her neck, because she settled down to her normal way of going, and we made good progress, reaching the top of the pass just as night began to fall.

SEVEN
    Just as the Guide had said, the path flattened out and disappeared at the top of the pass. The earth was hard and dry, and scattered with stones and boulders that had slipped down from the top of the mountain, but there was a patch of ground that looked beaten and trampled, with the gray ash of a dead fire in the center of it.
    “Other travelers have stopped here,” said Dad, noticing it. “A wilderness hotel.”
    “Many people have come through this way, to the border,” agreed the Guide, unloading the donkey.
    “There's not much for her to eat, up here,” said Mum. The donkey, free now to wander, looked rather dejectedly around her, and then wandered up to the only bush—sticking out scraggily from the side of the outcrop—and started ripping off the leaves.
    “She must have a castiron mouth,” said Dad,impressed, as the donkey battled calmly with the twigs and thorns.
    “I'm pleased to say you were thoughtful enough to spare her last rations,” smiled the Guide. “There's a handful left. And she knows it.”
    Sure enough, the donkey kept one eye on him, and hurried back to the packs as the Guide pulled out her bundle of dried grass.
    “Can't see a drop of water, though,” said Dad.
    “She can manage a long time without,” said the Guide, “long enough to cross the border, though she'll be pleased to have some then. It is we who have the problem, however.”
    This reminded everyone that we had run out of food, and had very little water as most had gone over the edge with the baggage Dad had had to cut away.
    Mum started sorting through our remaining packs in a hopeful sort of way, and eventually pulled out two more sachets of powder, which were a salt and sugar mixture you could mix with water.
    She sat back on her heels and looked at them in dismay.
    “Not really a lot of use with only a couple of mouthfuls of water each. I don't know—do we want our water plain, or flavored?”
    “It might be medically advisable to use that stuff, but I'd like to keep it plain for some reason,” said Dad, and we agreed. It didn't exactly taste bad with the sachets added, but not that good, either.
    Dad started digging around in his own pack, and after a lot of fumbling around said, “Aha!” and pulled out a crumpled piece of silver foil.
    “I saved four pieces for just such an emergency. From the food parcel Granny sent last month.”
    “Chocolate!” me and Mum shrieked.
    The Guide smiled and then laughed at us as we clamored round Dad, but no amount of encouragement from us would persuade him to take his piece, so Mum and Dad gave me two.
    Although we tried to suck and not chew it, it soonmelted and was gone, and then we had to