Free Voracious by ALICE HENDERSON Page A

including some polypropylene long underwear and a pair of woolen socks. Next to that lay the water bottle. Grateful, she took a long drink, quenching her thirst.
    Replacing the bottle, her hands found something smooth and solid. A great sadness suddenly swept over her. Curious, she pulled out the object, a very old hardback book. The spine was well worn and the paper old and spotted with age. She opened it carefully and found graceful handwriting and some field sketches: a flower, a mountain peak. It was someone’s old journal, she realized. She read the date on the page she was currently turned to: February 20, 1859. The book had a terribly sad energy to it.
    Carefully she closed it, replacing it deep in the bag. Her fingers searched for sun protection, but met something cold and metal instead. Instantly images and emotions leapt into her mind.
    Running down an alley in pursuit of a dark figure.
    Fear. Desperation.
    Throwing open a door to a train compartment and lunging inside, heart hammering.
    She withdrew the object, holding it carefully. She knew backpackers carried knives, but those were usually folding blades or pocket knives.
    The knife she now held in her hand was a foot-long dagger, encased in a round, ornamentally engraved silver sheath. The handle was completely metal, and when she drew it out, she saw that the blade was very strange. It had no edges but was round with a pointed end, like a sharpened spike. She touched the point and felt it snag on her flesh. Very sharp. She’d never seen a knife like it.
    It felt important , vital.
    It looked very old and very well used.
    Very old. If Noah collected antiques like this, it would explain the strange images I got from him. An antique dressing table had once given her images of a young girl in a calico sunbonnet, and a cameo brooch had once allowed her a glimpse into the Victorian period, showing her an elegant woman who had strolled with a white umbrella on rainy cobblestone streets.
    She put the knife back. After cinching and buckling the pack, she hefted it onto her back again. Fastening the waist and chest buckles, she wondered over the objects she had found inside. Then, screwing up her courage, she prepared herself for the long hike to Many Glacier.
    She had just rejoined the trail when she heard shouting. She froze, stepping back away from the trail. She heard it again: a man yelling from the direction of the ranger station. She crouched down, peering out between tree trunks. A figure appeared on the trail, and Madeline desperately hoped that it wasn’t the creature. It definitely looked human, though after the ranger’s station, that wasn’t worth much anymore. No long claws or ink-black sharkskin. She remained where she was, trying to make out if it was a ranger or the creature in another guise.
    And then she saw the familiar blond hair and made out the face as he drew nearer.
    Noah.
    “Madeline!” he shouted, looking around in all directions.
    Immediately she entered the path and started running, meeting Noah on the trail. He saw her and ran to her. A large gash ran the length of his cheek, and his face showed purple and blue in more places than not. He’d tucked his tent under his arm, along with her wet clothes.
    “Are you okay?” he asked breathlessly when they reached each other.
    “Yes” she said, panting herself. “I never thought I’d see you again!” The backpack weighed a ton, and she could feel the veins standing out on her neck. She ached to take it off but was too worried they’d have to start running again.
    Noah looked around nervously. “I lost it. Let’s go over there, and I’ll tell you.” Motioning to a large glacial erratic boulder a few feet away, he said, “He won’t see us there as easily.” They hurried to the boulder and squatted down behind it. “It was quite a struggle up there. It was pretty close for a minute, but I managed to wound him and get away. I found my way here and went inside. No ranger. And the