Free Open Season by C. J. Box Page B

large eyes. She could see a long, thin neck behind its head but couldn’t see the creature’s body in the shadows of the logs. All that was visible was one small foot with slender fingers and nails poised around the bark of the log it stood on. The creature’s hands were delicate and well-formed, and they looked capable of grasping and picking up small objects.
    Sheridan was delighted that the creature had not retreated into the logs yet, but stayed and let itself be looked at. She liked the creature’s big, dark eyes, and thought that the animal not only looked cute but smart as well. Its eyes were intelligent and sparkling.
    Without breaking her gaze with the animal, she reached down into the fold of her dress and grasped a handful of Cheerios. Trying not to make her movements too quick, she threw the cereal toward the woodpile. Cheerios rained on the logs and the creature popped quickly back inside.
    She was starting to regret what she had done—she thought she had scared the animal back into hiding—when the little round head reappeared. This time, Sheridan sat still, trying to quiet both her heart and her breath. She was so excited that she wanted to shout, but she didn’t dare.
    â€œHello again, little guy,” Sheridan whispered.
    The creature was now leaning farther out of the logs than it had been before. She could see its tiny shoulders and clawlike front feet. Its long, narrow body was now several inches out of the hole in the wood. The dark stripe ran down its back as far as she could see. The creature focused on a Cheerio directly below it in the joint of a branch. It looked from the Cheerio to Sheridan and back to the Cheerio. Suddenly, in a lightning movement, it shot completely out of the hole, stuffed the Cheerio in its cheek, turned like a little, brown tornado, and vanished back into the woodpile.
    Sheridan let out a long whistle. “Wow,” she said. “Wow.”
    She scooped the rest of the cereal from her dress and the grass and tossed it in handfuls toward the woodpile. She hoped the creature would now know the sound for what it was—food.
    And then there were three. Their heads popped out of the side of the woodpile. Pop, pop, pop. She instantly recognized the first creature she had seen as the biggest and darkest. There was also a lighter brown animal with a smaller head. And the smallest one was almost light yellow in color and with a sleeker look about it. She felt happily overwhelmed by the six shiny eyes on her, and she giggled and covered her mouth.
    One by one, with the large, dark animal leading the way, the creatures shot out of the woodpile, gathered cereal, crammed their cheeks, and zipped back into holes in the logs. By the third trip, they all seemed more comfortable, and not as manic in their movements. The big, dark one ventured the farthest from the woodpile. It stood straight up on its hind legs. Then it used its front paws to stuff a Cheerio into its now-fat cheeks. It looked alert—and comical. Now it stood just a few feet away from Sheridan.
    â€œWhat are you doing, Sherry?”
    Lucy’s voice scared Sheridan as much as it did the animals. All three creatures disappeared quickly back into the woodpile.
    â€œWhat were those things?” Lucy asked. Lucy sat down in the grass next to Sheridan. Lucy could be so annoying.
    Sheridan explained in a finger-pointing, big-sister way that the animals were their secret pets. She told Lucy not to say anything to Mom about them. Lucy didn’t really understand. She kept asking if she could play with them now.
    â€œIf you tell Mom and Dad about those pets, they’ll die, and we’ll be in A LOT OF trouble,” Sheridan hissed. “All of my pets die when people know about them!”
    â€œCan they be my pets, too?” Lucy asked.
    Sheridan fought the impulse to say no and made a decision to bargain instead. “They can be our pets,” she said. “But