47 - Legend of the Lost Legend Read Free

sleeping bag, trying to get warm.
    On the other side of the tent, I could hear Dad snoring lightly. Dad can fall
asleep in seconds. And he’s such a sound sleeper, you practically have to hit
him in the head to wake him up!
    Marissa and I are not like Dad. It takes us hours to fall asleep. And
the tiniest, tiniest sound wakes us up instantly.
    So now I lay on my back in the sleeping bag, staring up at the dark ceiling
of the tent. Trying to clear my mind. Trying not to think about anything.
    Trying to fall asleep… asleep… asleep.
    I had almost drifted off—when an animal howl cut through the silence.
    An angry howl. A menacing howl. So close!
    Right outside the tent.
    I jerked straight up. Wide awake. Breathing hard. I knew this wasn’t a
storybook creature. This creature was real.

 
 
5
     
     
    The air in the tent felt cold against my hot skin. I realized that I was
sweating.
    I listened hard.
    And heard a shuffling sound. A low growl. The crackle of heavy paws over the
leafy forest ground.
    My heart pounding, I slid the sleeping bag down. Started to crawl out of it.
    “Oh!” I let out a whispered cry as someone pushed past me.
    “Dad—?”
    No. I could still hear Dad’s steady snores from across the tent.
    I knew it would take more than a terrifying animal howl to wake Dad up!
    “Marissa—” I whispered.
    “Sssshh.” She held a finger up to her mouth as she crawled toward the tent
flap. “I heard it too.”
    I moved quickly beside her. We stopped in front of the closed flap.
    “It’s some kind of animal,” Marissa whispered.
    “Maybe it’s a werewolf !” I whispered back.
    There goes my wild imagination again.
    But aren’t werewolves supposed to live deep in the forests of Europe? I think
that’s where all the old werewolf movies took place. In a forest just like this
one.
    I heard another low growl.
    I grabbed the tent flap and pulled it up. Cold air rushed in. A gust of wind
ruffled my pajama shirt.
    I peered out into the night. A mist had fallen over the small clearing where
we had set up the tent. Pale moonlight shining through the mist turned
everything a shade of blue.
    “What is it?” Marissa whispered from close behind me. “Do you see it?”
    I couldn’t see any animal. Only swirls of blue mist.
    “Get back inside,” Marissa ordered.
    I heard more shuffling sounds. A loud sniff.
    “Hurry. Get back in,” Marissa urged.
    “Just wait,” I whispered. I had to see what was out there. I had to see what
was making those noises.
    I shivered. The air felt heavy and damp.
    Wisps of the blue fog seemed to cling to me. I took a step out of the tent.
The ground sent a shock of cold up from my bare feet.
    I held my breath and took another step.
    And saw the creature.
    A dog. A big dog, tall. Like a shepherd, only with long, white fur. The white
fur shimmered like silver under the misty moonlight. The dog had his head
lowered. He sniffed the ground.
    As I stared at the animal, he raised his head and turned to me. And started
to wag his tail.
    I love dogs.
    I’ve always loved dogs.
    Without thinking, I reached out my arms. And I ran to pet him.
    “No! Don’t !” Marissa screamed.

 
 
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    Too late.
    I knelt down and petted the fur on the big dog’s back. It felt soft and
thick. My hand touched leaves and small twigs tangled in the fur.
    The dog’s tail wagged furiously. I petted his head. He raised his eyes to me.
    “Hey—!” I cried out. The dog had one brown eye, one blue.
    “He might be a wolf!” Marissa called. I turned to see that she had taken only
one step from the tent. She clung to the flap, ready to duck inside at any
instant.
    “He’s not a wolf. He’s a dog,” I told her. I studied him again. “At least, I think he’s not a wolf,” I added. “I mean, he’s too friendly to be a
wolf.”
    I rubbed the top of his head. Then I scratched the thick, white fur on his
chest. I pulled blades of dried grass and weeds from his fur.
    The dog wagged