Diamond Willow Read Free Page A

moving together, I don’t see any way to stop them.
    Usually, I wouldn’t want to stop them, or even slow them down. I fly faster than that myself.
    But I’ve seen what’s ahead. At the bottom of this hill, just around the curve, a dead tree fell across the trail, not too long after Willow’s father went past this morning. Broken limbs are sticking out all over it.
    If she were coming from the other direction, she’d see it in time to stop. But from this direction, at the speed she’s going, Willow won’t have time to stop her dogs.
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    The
    dogs love
    going fast as much
    as I do. When we come to
    the curve at the bottom of the hill
    I’ll slow them down a little. But not yet—
    this is too much fun! Here’s the curve. What?
    Whoa! Easy, Roxy! I brake hard, the dogs stop—
    but not fast enough. Roxy’s howl cuts through me.
    I set the snow hook, run to her—as fast as I can
    through the deep snow. I stumble; a branch
    jabs into my leg. Oww! It’s my own
    voice I hear, like the fault line
    of an earthquake, with
    everything breaking
    around it. Roxy
    sticks her face
    in the snow.
    The snow
    turns
    red.
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    Roxy,
    look at me.
    I hold her head
    and stare at her face.
    She’s bleeding from her eyes
    and she won’t stop yelping. I pull the
    tarp off the sled—oh, I don’t believe this!
    I kept saying, Dad, I know I have everything!
    But I didn’t bring the first aid kit! I don’t have
    any bandages, or any thing like a dog bag to carry
    Roxy in the sled. I’m about two hours from home.
    It’s too far to turn back. This is serious. Hush, Roxy.
    I’ll think of something. My shirt. It’s clean enough.
    No one’s around, and I won’t freeze to death while I
    take it off and put my sweater and jacket back on.
    Okay. I think I can do this. I have to. Roxy,
    just let me hold this on your eyes. Please
    trust me. Thank you, Roxy. Good dog.
    There, I finally stopped the bleeding.
    Now, I have to get her in the sled.
    I can lift her. But how can I
    keep her from shivering
    in this bitter
    wind?
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    I
    kick the
    side of the sled.
    How could I be so
    stupid? Dad will kill
    me! Calm down, my dear.
    Weird—it seemed like I heard
    those words. I look around: Who
    said that? All I see is a spruce hen
    sitting on a low branch just ahead,
    quietly preening her feathers. I watch
    her for a minute, take a few long, deep
    breaths, let my heart slow down a little,
    and then it comes to me: Feathers—use
    my down sleeping bag. I manage to get
    Roxy into it and strap her to the sled.
    I give the dogs some of my smoked
    salmon and eat some myself.
    (Thank you, Grandma!)
    Cora—you’ll have to
    lead us home. I’m
    counting on
    you.
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    Jean, Willow’s great-great-great grandmother (Spruce Hen)
    By the time they pull into the yard, the sun has set behind the mountains. Willow’s mother and her father and her sister, Zanna, all run out to meet her. Her mother is all smiles; Zanna’s jumping up and down.
    Her father looks at Roxy in the sled.
    Before he has a chance to say a word, Willow’s mother takes her daughter in her arms and pulls her close.
    Willow’s shoulders start to shake. Her mother makes a gesture to her father: You take care of Roxy. I’ll take care of her.
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    My
    leg is
    bruised
    pretty badly.
    Mom says it’s lucky
    I didn’t get hurt worse.
    We shouldn’t have let you go.
    At least, someone should have gone out
    this afternoon to be sure you were okay. It sounds
    like Mom is mad at Dad or herself, but not sure which.
    She fusses over me , covering me with a warm blanket,
    making me hot chocolate, telling Zanna to turn
    down the TV so I can rest. She doesn’t
    say a word about Roxy. When Dad
    comes in, they go into their
    bedroom to talk. I want
    to hear what Dad
    has to say, but
    he doesn’t
    seem to
    want
    me
    to.
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    Roxy’s
    eyes