Читать книгу Shadow Bones - Colleen Rhoads - Страница 10

Wilson New Moon hummed as he walked through the meadow with his balsam airplane. He loved to watch it soar into the clouds. Sometimes he was tempted to throw it with all his might and see if it could reach heaven.

The preacher said God was in heaven, and Wilson was curious about that. Did God sit on a throne? Did He like balsam planes? A big man, Wilson knew he wasn’t smart like other men. He’d once heard a teacher say he’d always have the mental capacity of a twelve-year-old, but Wilson didn’t think that was so bad. Twelve was practically an adult.

Wilson knew he wasn’t supposed to be here. The mine area was off-limits. That’s what his mother said. Wilson didn’t quite understand what off-limits was, but his mom said the mine was dangerous. He wasn’t a scaredy-cat, though. He loved this particular meadow in the springtime. Mushrooms would be popping up any day now. He could take what he found to the hunting shop in town and sell them for enough to buy material to make more planes. This one was getting tattered, and The Sleeping Turtle in town needed more of his creations to sell.

He let the wind take the plane and shouted with exhilaration as it soared on the breeze. Capering in among the wildflowers, he screamed with the wind. He wished he could be a plane himself.

By the middle of the afternoon, he was exhausted. He tucked his plane under his arm. Maybe he should leave it here instead of hauling it to his cabin. Wilson had seen a cave around here somewhere. He scrabbled through the underbrush.

There it was. He uprooted a shrub and revealed the opening back into the mine. It was bigger than he remembered—big enough for him to explore.

Smiling hugely, he got on all fours and crawled inside. This could be his hiding place. He could play tricks on other mushroom hunters from here and scare them away.

He heard a sound, and his blood boomed in his ears. He looked behind him and saw a black face atop a figure dressed in black. White teeth bared, the creature reached for him.

A scream tore from his throat, and Wilson backpedaled as quick as he could. It was Asibikaashi, the Spider Woman. Weaver of dreamcatchers, Asibikaashi had always terrified Wilson. Though the Ojibwa were encouraged to protect and revere her, he wanted nothing to do with anything that had eight legs.

The shriek that issued from his mouth hurt his ears. He turned and ran for his life. Every moment he expected to feel the silken thread of the Spider Woman’s web entangle him and the sharp sting of her teeth entering his back. He didn’t dare look behind him as he ran for safety.