Free Camouflage Heart by Dana Marton Page A

together, made a loop and tied them in a secure knot.
    She tried with another one and managed pretty well. He tested her knot. It held.
    When all the vines were connected, he rechecked every single knot one more time. Then he tied one end of the line around a tree, the other around his waist, grabbed his pole and waded into the water. The river was about a hundred feet wide; he had more than enough “rope” the get him to the other side.
    â€œFeed the line to me little by little. Hold tight if I slip.” He walked farther into the murky water, usingthe pole to probe for holes in the river bottom in front of him.
    The silt was soft and slippery. It sucked his boots in, making the crossing difficult.
    â€œWhen I’m across, untie the line from the tree and tie it around your waist. Use the pole for support,” he called back, then turned his attention to crossing.
    He moved forward as fast as he could, not only because it was never a good idea to linger in water—too many nasty parasites that could make your life miserable for a long time—but because he hated to leave Audrey unprotected. The sooner they were both on the same side again, the better.
    The water was all right, a few degrees colder than the air. In a few steps he was in to his waist, then his chest and his shoulders. Then the pole no longer reached bottom in front of him. He pushed away from the mud that was sucking his boots in, and began to swim, feeling the line pull tight, then loosen as Audrey gave him some slack.
    The closer he got to the middle, the stronger the current grew. He let go of the pole and put everything he had into swimming, careful with the debris the river carried. In what seemed an eternity later, his feet touched semisolid ground again, and he was able to walk, losing his footing a couple of times, but making his way forward steadily.
    Without the pole, the going was slower. He had to feel out where he was stepping before putting his weight on his foot. He couldn’t afford to slip into a hole and break a leg.
    But he reached shore soon enough, his clothes a soggy, muddy mess. He fought the plants that reached into the water and found a spot where he could climb the bank, and untied the line while he was catching his breath. Once he secured it to a tree, he waved to Audrey to follow.
    The tight set of her mouth betrayed her nerves. Nothing but determination in her movements, though. She pushed herself to complete the task at hand, as always.
    He pulled the line with each step she took forward, more nervous watching her than when he was in the water himself. She was doing well, keeping her head up, using the pole. Then she was swimming. He pulled the line, helping her. She drifted downriver, but the line held and kept her safe.
    He only took his eyes off her to look for signs of danger every once in a while, keeping his ears on guard for the sound of approaching boats. They were lucky, it looked like she would make it. She was almost at the point where he figured her feet would start touching bottom again soon.
    Then a log in the water upriver caught his attention, and he swore, pulling harder on the vine.
    â€œSwim to shore,” he yelled, not caring now who might hear him. She was in more immediate danger from the log than from anyone. If her line got tangled, she’d be trapped. “Go with the current! On your back. Forty-five degrees to shore. Swim backwards.” It was the safest position for someone carried away by floodwaters.
    He gave her back the whole length of the vine rope, and she understood, stopped fighting to reach shore where he was and let the current take her downriver, just trying to get across enough so the log would float by behind her. She almost cleared it. The log hit the line ten feet or so in front of her. He could see the patched length of vine tangle in the roots as the dead tree bobbed in the water, rolling in the current.
    He pulled on the line, desperate. Maybe he