Fading Shadows

Chapter XI

Food and Forests

Once the two arrivals approached our table, I stood up to greet them with a friendly handshake. With a slight hint of reluctance, I smiled and reached my hand out. "Good day, Mr. and Mrs. Rose. How are you feeling today?" The older rose female smiled and we shook hands.

"Hello, there. I don't believe we have met before," the mother replied.

"Oh. Sorry, about that. I am Shadow. Shadow the Hedgehog."

"Well, I'm pleased to meet you, Shadow! You are such a gentleman." I blushed lightly at that remark.

"Thank you, Miss Rose," I thanked her as I turned to the brown hedgehog. "Good day to you, sir." Our handshake was firm and the father remained silent, giving me a brief smile. As the two adults settled with us, I noticed something about the father that made me feel anxious inside. Why did I feel anxious? There was this look in his eyes. He seemed to be scrutinizing me, sizing me up. He seated himself with Amy and his wife, and I sat next to Cream.

"Amy," the pink look-alike started. "How did you and Shadow meet?" Amy sipped her glass of ice-filled coke before answering.

"I was chasing after Sonic when he ran off to fight Egghead. Shadow was fighting too. I saw him from a distance and ran up to hug him. I thought he was Sonic," Amy finished as I smirked.

"I was just standing there and she scared me to death," I added. "Oh, I did not!" Amy shot a glare at me as her eyes narrowed.

"How old are you, Shadow? You look about Sonic's age," Amy's dad asked as he arched an eyebrow, forming a brown wrinkle above his right eye.

"Yes sir. I'm seventeen years old." The dad's eyes darkened and I could not help noticing. "Is something wrong? I'm sorry," I apologized.

"Shadow, what are you sorry for? You did not do anything wrong," Amy objected. A calico cat interrupted our conversation. She had wild brown eyes, and she focused on us with calm warmth shining in them.

"Hey, y'all. How are you doing today? May I get anything for you?" The cat pulled out a pad and pen to write our orders down. "What would you like sir?" She eyed Amy's dad. "I would like to have a barbecue sandwich with Brunswick stew on the side, and water." The waitress turned to Amy's mom. "I prefer to have the chicken salad and a coke please," the mother answered. After more orders, it was my turn. "Um..." I looked at the menu.

Amy interrupted my thoughts with a tempting offer. "Shadow, don't get something small. You helped me so much yesterday, I would be glad to give you something bigger." I glanced at her with widened eyes.

"Okay, since you offer that, I'll have the jumbo burger," I decided.

"Well, that is a big order, mister. Are you sure you want that?" I moaned at her question.

"Yes, ma'am. I am quite sure."

Once the titanic burger was delivered, I had to struggle to resist drooling over my order. The giant sandwich was demolished in moments, and everyone stared at me as I rubbed my belly. The others also finished eating, but my plate was licked clean. The cramping pain, the exhaustion, and the hunger that had bothered me for days were gone. Amy, her parents, Cream and Cheese all laughed heartily as I massaged my bulging abdomen.

"Well, I believe you enjoyed your meal far more than anyone else that has ever eaten here," Mrs. Rose giggled. "You have the right idea," I managed to softly reply. We all laughed one last time amongst ourselves as we left the restaurant. I suddenly felt very tired, and my body became heavy with weariness as my mind slowed down. We stood out of the door, and I was calmed even more by the blue sky and warm sunlight. "Thank you so much for the meal. I enjoyed it," I grinned as I gave my thanks to my hosts. As I waved goodbye, I wondered within my mind what I would do the next day. Sleeping sounds good to me right now, and since my belly is full I might as well...

* * * * * * *

I do not know when exactly I woke up from my nap. I felt soft and warm from my rest, and it took moments for my mind to return from wherever it decided to wander as I was counting sheep. I got up and stretched, putting my shoes and gloves on to venture out into the world. I concluded that I would not see Rose again, for I had already spent time with her and was aware that I would soon have overstayed my welcome.

After my nap, I felt healthier than I have in a long time. I was clean. I was recently filled with a good meal. I had enjoyed my experience the previous day, and I smiled to myself as I tried to decide what I would do for the day. I have been alone for a good while, but until now I had no desire to do anything more than yearn for companionship. I glanced around at the manmade objects that surrounded my home. With a pause an idea entered my mind as I looked up, admiring the blue of the sky above. Maybe I should get out of here...

With a brief sigh, I started forward, walking to no place in particular. I can always find my way back here and there is plenty of time to kill. The medium sized buildings that resembled the place of my home gave way to smaller ones, coffee shops, cafes, and gas stations. Before me was a gas station. It was nothing really noticeable, just a rectangular building that served as a store behind the numerous gas pumps, and a lone air hose at the side of the small parking lot. Grey canisters of propane gas were stacked up beside the entrance, and I simply walked right behind it, approaching the line of trees that stretched out into the distance.

The bitter sweet smell of diesel and leaking oil grew faint as I walked over damp leaves and my feet crushed small twigs that littered the ground, replaced with the pleasant smell of damp, rich soil. The new aroma soothed my nerves as I continued my way from the city. I passed more scrawny trees and soon noticed how much cooler I felt in the natural shade.

The fact that I am a black furry only makes it all the more noticeable, for the color of my pelt absorbs light, and as it absorbs light the light becomes heat. That is why, for instance, a newly paved parking lot can be literally hot enough to fry a raw egg on a hot, sunny summer day. The short trees that were no thicker than my arm were covered with young trees that competed with each other and their elders to reach sunlight. Above those, the tallest trees of the canopy stood straight, sending out branches that covered what sunlight they could. I passed by the dull orange plated bark of a yellow pine as I noticed the light in the distance.

Before me and through several more trees, the green light from a field poked through the brown of the forest floor. Blades of grass stuck out over the field, and to my right a slowly flowing river lazily drifted by. Along the riverbanks were several tall grass-like plants that had what looked like brown bottlebrushes on their tips, poking into the air. I am not sure about my identification, for the swamp is not my specialty, but the plants were... cattails. That's it. Cattails. I wandered along the edge of the field and continued to the forest ahead.

The sunlight felt pleasant on my face and a soft breeze brushed my tan cheeks, causing me to form a slight curve on my lips in a silent smile. Once again bushes and trees of many different habits dominated the sun and grass that I left behind me. This tree was forked. That tree over there is leaning oddly to the side, like it was pushed over by a rowdy giant. This one is covered in thick, downy moss...

I continued forward. Steady movement carried me on while more trees passed me by. At one location, there was a small gully that was filled with many pyramidal trees that were covered in dark green needles and they cast profound darkness upon the floor of the hollow and each other. A bittersweet feeling enveloped my heart as I remembered the first time I saw this kind of tree. A tear softly formed at the corner of my eye and I brushed it away with my clothed finger. The first time I saw a hemlock tree, my father was there with me...

I could hear the faint whisper of something in the distance, and as I approached it the noise became the smooth mummer of a nearby creek. The trees around me changed, those that love moisture replaced the trees that preferred to grow at drier places. The oaks and dogwoods were replaced with beech and maple. The maples had finely toothed leaves and they had grey, furrowed bark that formed ridges that followed up the trunk and branches. The beech trees were unique. Whether you live in Europe or America, American beech and European beech have much in common. Toothed leaves adorn the former and smooth leaves are on the latter, but they have the same shape. Both have triangular brown nuts in spiny burs. Both have the beech trademark; slick and steel grey bark that never gets rough.

I stopped at the stream on a large flattened stone that was coated in soft, green moss. The stone sat against the trunk of a maple that shaded it from the sunlight, and the maple leaned away from the stream. I have found a spot to return to some time; the rock and tree over the stream look like a good place to rest. I continued forward, approaching a clearing of the forest that followed down the stream. Grass and more cattails were around the stream, and the rocks that sat in the water were smooth and flat from the erosion of flowing water, some were egg-shaped and others were similar to pancakes.

At the edge of the field, a giant tree stood. It had a massive stature. The trunk was so thick it must have been two meters across, and above it had several massive branches that spread into the sky. Its size and round, stout shape reminded me of oak, but there were several things different about it. For one, the tree had dreadlocks in its crown, looking like they were strands of fuzz the color of butter. The flowers looked beautiful as they swayed with the wind, forming waves of cream that stood out against the green tones of the forest. For another, beneath my feet rotting leaves were shaped like long spear heads, lance-shaped leaves that had prominent, triangular teeth. Noticing the teeth, I glanced again at the mysterious tree. The tree was none other than a native chestnut.

Chestnuts once were common, but a disease that arrived in the early twentieth century has changed all of that. Billions of chestnuts died, and yet there is this one tree, older than the Civil War, and it was thriving. A thought that had popped into my mind was answered as I looked behind the giant tower of mighty branches. The tree had a mate, a companion. A tree that was about the same size stood in the distance, and in several spots nearby, little chestnut sprouts poked no more than one meter into the air with no more than a dozen leaves, dwarfed by their spectacular parents. The venerable old and the very young stood side by side, revealing the intricacy within the cycle of life as it continues through birth, growth, and death.

This looks like a desirable place to stay. I have come out here with the plan to set up camp and spend the night. I first needed to set up a shelter, and fortunately the first thing I needed was right there, lying on the damp earth. A large and sturdy branch form the chestnut was the starting of my shelter. I need a whole lot of sticks for the next part, and branches and twigs of many sizes. I returned to the shade of the forest and gathered branch after branch after branch, soon having as much as I could carry in an arm full, and placed it next to the tree. One pile is done, now for the others. I repeated the process three more times, gathering up four piles of the sticks.

I lifted the largest branch in my hands and wedged it between the ground and the tree trunk, pushing it into the ground for added stability. Working gradually from the branches in reference to size, I placed the branches on the main one, forming a frame for the roof, and I added more and more branches on top of those. The result was something like a teepee, a teepee of sticks that leaned against the tree for support. Next I needed moss and pine branches. I looked around in disappointment, noticing that there were no pine trees near me, and so I needed to find some. I went into the woods again, wandering, trekking up a gently sloping hill to find some evergreen trees. As I crushed leaves beneath my feet, I saw a small cluster of pine trees in the distance. They stood out with their rich green shades, contrasting with the bright green of the broadleaved trees.

At least I have found what I was looking for, I thought to myself. Now I need to acquire the branches. With my gloved hands, I snapped the small branches from the smaller trees, gathering a bundle of them. The sweet mint aroma of the pines soothed me as I stood among the small conifers. I finished my trip with a giant bundle of branches, each boasting a bunch of green, tufted needles. Thick, gold sap dripped from the broken ends of the branches in a manner a whole lot like honey.

I placed the pine needles over the shelter, lining the lean-to with a water resistant layer in case it would rain that night. Instead of dripping between the branches and onto my sleepy head, the water would trickle down the needles to the ground, keeping me dry. I then took the remaining larger branches and lined them vertically inside the makeshift dwelling, forming a floor to keep me off of the wet ground. My home is done, now I need three more things. I need something to sleep on. I need food. I need fire. Fire will be last, I thought to myself. Bed first.

I prefer that my bed be something soft. Perhaps some dried out moss would do the trick. Taking steps down to the creek, I scanned around for some moss. Tall grass and cattails sprouted up from the creek's edges, and I could hear the croaking rumbles of a bullfrog that was hiding somewhere in the thick brush. The sun made shadows dance upon the stones beneath the water, and bands of sunlight flickered on the sandy bottom as the water itself made the stones appear to waver in tandem with the surface. On the other side of the small creek, a big clump of hair-like moss curled over itself, as if it was suffering through a bad hair day.

I could walk through the creek, but I would like to keep my feet dry if I can help it. So, what do I try doing to solve this little problem? I jump. I had to jump like three meters into the air many times, so this should be easy as pie. With a brief strain of my legs, I was thrust into the air and over the stream to the other side, quick to gather my moss and return to the crude thing that would make a tool shed seem like something from Beverly Hills. My bed of moss was spread out over the floor, and it would make the spot more comfortable. My home was finally completed, so I had one more task at hand. I desired something to eat. Maybe I could try a plant... Trying to eat a plant can be very dangerous. There are dozens of poisonous plants and many of them can be found in the garden! If you think a plant is poisonous, or you are uncertain about its identity, you can do a test on it, but it takes a long time, and there are many similar plants that look alike, fooling the untrained eye, and in the case of mushrooms, even the professionals.

I will eat a plant that I know is not poisonous. With a few strides I returned to the creek and grasped a cattail, intending to pull the brown sausage thing off the top to cook it. My biology teacher made us study medicinal properties of plants and poisons as well. Cattail is edible, along with many others. I collected five of the soft brown growths and placed them at my campsite. Now only one more thing was missing.

I needed to gather more wood for a fire. The best things I could find would be dry wood, dry sticks. Once again I went to the forest for the materials, searching on the brown forest floor to pick up any dry twigs, sticks, and branches that I could find. The different sizes of wood are used for different parts of building a fire. I selected the branches that had no fallen, brown leaves covering them, for they fell recently and had less time to get soaked by the damp ground. I turned back for camp with a heap of large branches and twigs in my arms. I carelessly dropped the branches on the grass next to my shelter. I should have gotten some stones to surround the fire and hold it in place. A good idea flitted trough my mind, inspiring me to return to the stream. Among the reeds, grass, and cattails, there were several good-sized stones that I would be putting to use. With some arranging and a final grin of satisfaction, I placed the twigs inside the circle of stones I had produced.

I arranged the twigs in a small pile, to start the fire and add more as it burned through the fuel. My hand remained over the pile of twigs that would be my fire, and I concentrated Chaos energy into the pile. I could feel heat start to build up within the cluster, inspiring me to focus it more. At the center of the twigs, faint but still noticeable, a thin strand of blue-grey smoke drifted up from an ember and tangled itself with the wind before fading away. A snapping noise caused a twig to spark, and the ember became a small flame. More twigs. The flame licked softly at the surrounding twigs, growing on them and enveloping the pile in a warm, orange glow. I grabbed several larger branches and twigs to add them to my campfire, and the flames greedily consumed them while the fire grew larger. The fire popped as a yellow spark leaped into the air before it landed on the rough grey face of a rock from the surrounding fire pit and dimmed, becoming an invisible fleck of ash.

I reached down to grasp a forked branch in my hand, and I handled the picked cattails in the other, sticking one piece on each of the ends. This was dinner for me. Cattails... I shook my head. It was not as good as the delicious burger I gorged on yesterday, but it was better than what I had in the city; nothing at all. The stick was waiting above the flickering flames to roast the food. I had some fun waiting for them to roast with my own experiment. I turned the stick so that one cattail was in the top part of the fire, and the other was above the fire where the flames could almost reach it. The finished products were pulled out of the fire, and I observed them as I sniffed. The hot sausage-like cattails smelled bland and hot. The scent was not repulsive, and my stomach growled as I took a deep inhale of the roasted food. The lower piece was burned and grey smoke rose into the air from its charred surface. I waited a moment before poking the singed cattail, trying to find out what the temperature of my intended meal was. I wanted to know if I could stand eating it right then.

The food was too hot, so I waited several more seconds to hold it under my shiny nose. Reluctantly, my jaws clamped down on a small bite of the cattail, and I could taste something bland. It still was food. The burned cattail was very crunchy on the outside, and the inside was somewhat drier than I would have liked. The second, less cooked cattail was soft and spongy, like bread. I cooked the three remaining cattails less than I had cooked the first one, and soon I was full and content. I threw several large branches onto the fire and crawled into my shelter to wait.

The sky was darkening as the evening advanced, and the bright white sun was dimming into a glowing yellow orb that floated in the distant sky. The shadows around me became longer as they stretched from the sun's lower angle, and the shadows seemed to get much denser, bringing contrast to the landscape as it became a redder color. The green grass was a yellowed green color now, and the stones of my fire were lit up orange on the inside where they faced the fire. The soft hiss of the flames and the occasional crackle of the sticks was a natural song, a song of the flames. I lay there on the downy moss and closed my eyes to sleep. This trip to the woods has cost me the whole day. Costing the day or not, it soothed my nerves as my eyes closed and crickets started to chirp, relaxing me even more. I was hiding in my own little cave. The view I had was the trunk of the mighty chestnut and the orange glow upon its furrowed bark from the fire as it continued burning. My body felt heavy as my breathing slowed down. I was sound asleep...