Free The Hobgoblin of the Redwoods by Trevor Scott Page A

instead of a tree hugger.
    Let me get back to the story. Me and my sister were stuck with an aunt we didn’t know, who would probably try to make us hug huge Redwoods all summer.
    Little did I know at the time that we were about to go on an adventure that could end our lives.

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    I asked my dad if we could at least take the boat from San Francisco to Eureka. That’s a town up in northern California pretty close to the Redwoods.
    He still had that “because” thing working for him. Instead, he drove us north to Eureka while his crew met him there with the boat.
    My Aunt Danielle met us in Eureka in her big pickup truck, and, after an uncomfortable greeting, my dad gave us a kiss, told us to be good, and took off to sea.
    I’ll admit right now that it was a scary moment. My mom was in France drinking wine, and now my dad was steaming out into the fog on his fishing boat toward Alaska.
    But I did have the Redwoods to look forward to, and that’s what kept me going. Sara was really emotional. I even saw a few tears in her eyes.
    We had to really climb up into Aunt Danielle’s truck, since it had big, wide tires. She slung our bags into the back end and I wondered what would happen if it started to rain.
    â€œWhat are you crying about?” I asked Sara.
    â€œI’m not crying,” she yelled.
    â€œOh, so that water in your eyes is from the salt air?”
    â€œRight!”
    I caught my aunt smirk. Maybe she wasn’t going to be too bad.
    We drove along the freeway, the tires making it almost impossible to talk, until we reached the dinky town of Orick, California.
    Did I mention the fog? My aunt said that on a clear day, about once a month, you could actually see the ocean on that drive from Eureka to Orick. I wasn’t sure if she was being a smart aleck, but I had a feeling she was. Now I knew where that came from in me.
    My dad was always so serious. Maybe that’s because he worked so hard, and when he wasn’t catching fish there wasn’t much to joke about.
    I had never seen so many trees in my twelve years on Earth.
    â€œAunt Danielle,” I said, “the trees go all the way to the sky.” This wasn’t entirely true. I think the sky had actually come down to the trees.
    â€œBen, please call me Danielle,” she said. “If you put aunt in front of it, I start to feel really old.”
    I had to admit she didn’t look very old. She had long, blonde hair, just like my sister Sara, that was pulled back into a ponytail, which she had pulled through the back hole on her baseball cap. She didn’t look like the women in San Francisco. She had no make-up on, but that wasn’t a bad thing. Mom wore so much make-up it took her hours just to get ready to go to Burger King.
    â€œOkay, aunt...I mean, Danielle,” I said.
    My sister rolled her eyes. Did I mention that she can be such a pain?
    Next we drove down a bumpy dirt road for about a mile until we reached a house barely visible in the thick forest. It was a little one-story log cabin, and the first thing I noticed was the roof. Almost the entire thing was covered in moss.
    When I jumped down from the truck, I stepped back quickly with the sight of the wolf.
    It was huge. Its tongue was hanging out of its mouth and its curved tail swished back and forth.
    I couldn’t move.
    â€œBen, help me down,” my sister said. Then she must have seen the wolf. “Oh. Is that wild?”
    By now Danielle was around the front of the truck and stooped down to hug the beast, which slopped its tongue all over her face.
    â€œGuys. This is Lucky,” she said, rubbing the animal briskly about its mane.
    â€œIs that a wolf?” Sara asked, pulling her feet back up into the truck.
    Danielle smiled. “Maybe a little bit,” she said. “When I got him as a pup in Minnesota, the owner told me the father was half wolf.”
    â€œThat would make Lucky a quarter,” Sara said