Phantomâs sister wasnât the frightened, desperate horse sheâd been in the winter.
Right now, for instance, Hoku was sniffing around for a last bit of dinner. Sam wouldnât be surprised at proof of the mustangâs ability to adapt, but Darby would bet sheâd be proud.
Darby crawled into her sleeping bag and turned off the lantern. Blackness surrounded her, but she immediately blotted out all forest sounds with ayawn. Her hours of riding and hiking caught up with her, and she fell asleep.
In her dream, Darby sat on the Sun House lanai, telling her mother of her Hawaiian adventures. As she did, a voice boomed out like a movie ad for coming attractions, saying, âSeason of the cave spider!â
Darby woke kicking. She tried to pull her legs clear of the sleeping bag, but only managed to hit her knees against her chin before rolling out of the lean-to and knocking the lantern over.
âFire,â she gasped, but sheâd turned off the lantern before sheâd fallen asleep. And she couldnât have dozed for more than a few minutes, because the lanternâs wick hadnât lost all of its glow.
Darby wiggled free of her sleeping bag, then stood and listened.
What had wakened her?
Not Hoku. Darby could just pick out her fillyâs silhouette by the glint of her eyes. The mustang watched her, but she didnât seem agitated.
Branches creaked in a warm wind.
The spilled lantern fuel smelled like gasoline.
Leaves crunched and pricked her heels. Darby could not believe sheâd gone to sleep barefoot.
Maybe her brain had been trying to remind her of happy-face spiders or cane spiders or tarantulasâdid Hawaii have tarantulas?âbecause sheâd heard of a dance called the tarantella that people did to flush outtarantula venom, and the way she was hopping around now, trying to tug her socks back on so that nothing crawled between her toes and bit her, she was probably doing it!
Mud. Darby held her breath at the sound of something walking in mud.
With her second sock safely stretched to her shin, she eased her foot down so that she wouldnât tip over, and concentrated.
A squishy sound, like a foot pulling free of mud, came to her ears again.
Please, not Manny, she thought, but nothing as big as Cadeâs creepy stepfather could move that way. She remembered the reek of perspiration coming from his tattooed and sweaty torso. Not only would she be able to smell him, Hoku would, too.
Darby heard no underlying plunk, like a horse hoof, splashing in the stream. And if it had been a horse, Hoku would have greeted it. Or warned it away from her hay.
No, the creature sounded too aimless. Equines didnât blunder around, between the stream and stream bank.
A sucking sound reminded Darby of the third set of tracks beside the water. Smaller tracks, and sheâd thought it was marks from a fawn.
A fawn!
How dumb are you? Darby asked herself. Have you seen a single deer on this island?
What else had cloven feet and moved around the forest in the dark?
Darby heard quarrelsome grunting, and suddenly she knew.
Chapter 5
I f you think you hear one, you do.
Thatâs what Jonah had said about wild pigs. Heâd also told her they gobbled down birds and rooted trenches that she could trip over.
Darby took a deep breath.
Calm down and think, she told herself.
But she couldnât help wondering how pigs did that rooting. Her curiosity wasnât the usual Discovery Channel variety, either. She pictured medieval tapestries with wild boars goring hounds and horses.
They couldnât do that ripping with their snouts. They had tusks.
She bet Hawaiian pigs had tusks, too. If so, howlong were they? Why hadnât she asked more questions when Kit, Auntie Cathy, Jonah, Megan, Cade, and, shoot, everyone around her had warned her about pigs?
Still listening to the muddy meandering, Darby wondered why this pig didnât move more stealthily. It was wild, or
Right now, for instance, Hoku was sniffing around for a last bit of dinner. Sam wouldnât be surprised at proof of the mustangâs ability to adapt, but Darby would bet sheâd be proud.
Darby crawled into her sleeping bag and turned off the lantern. Blackness surrounded her, but she immediately blotted out all forest sounds with ayawn. Her hours of riding and hiking caught up with her, and she fell asleep.
In her dream, Darby sat on the Sun House lanai, telling her mother of her Hawaiian adventures. As she did, a voice boomed out like a movie ad for coming attractions, saying, âSeason of the cave spider!â
Darby woke kicking. She tried to pull her legs clear of the sleeping bag, but only managed to hit her knees against her chin before rolling out of the lean-to and knocking the lantern over.
âFire,â she gasped, but sheâd turned off the lantern before sheâd fallen asleep. And she couldnât have dozed for more than a few minutes, because the lanternâs wick hadnât lost all of its glow.
Darby wiggled free of her sleeping bag, then stood and listened.
What had wakened her?
Not Hoku. Darby could just pick out her fillyâs silhouette by the glint of her eyes. The mustang watched her, but she didnât seem agitated.
Branches creaked in a warm wind.
The spilled lantern fuel smelled like gasoline.
Leaves crunched and pricked her heels. Darby could not believe sheâd gone to sleep barefoot.
Maybe her brain had been trying to remind her of happy-face spiders or cane spiders or tarantulasâdid Hawaii have tarantulas?âbecause sheâd heard of a dance called the tarantella that people did to flush outtarantula venom, and the way she was hopping around now, trying to tug her socks back on so that nothing crawled between her toes and bit her, she was probably doing it!
Mud. Darby held her breath at the sound of something walking in mud.
With her second sock safely stretched to her shin, she eased her foot down so that she wouldnât tip over, and concentrated.
A squishy sound, like a foot pulling free of mud, came to her ears again.
Please, not Manny, she thought, but nothing as big as Cadeâs creepy stepfather could move that way. She remembered the reek of perspiration coming from his tattooed and sweaty torso. Not only would she be able to smell him, Hoku would, too.
Darby heard no underlying plunk, like a horse hoof, splashing in the stream. And if it had been a horse, Hoku would have greeted it. Or warned it away from her hay.
No, the creature sounded too aimless. Equines didnât blunder around, between the stream and stream bank.
A sucking sound reminded Darby of the third set of tracks beside the water. Smaller tracks, and sheâd thought it was marks from a fawn.
A fawn!
How dumb are you? Darby asked herself. Have you seen a single deer on this island?
What else had cloven feet and moved around the forest in the dark?
Darby heard quarrelsome grunting, and suddenly she knew.
Chapter 5
I f you think you hear one, you do.
Thatâs what Jonah had said about wild pigs. Heâd also told her they gobbled down birds and rooted trenches that she could trip over.
Darby took a deep breath.
Calm down and think, she told herself.
But she couldnât help wondering how pigs did that rooting. Her curiosity wasnât the usual Discovery Channel variety, either. She pictured medieval tapestries with wild boars goring hounds and horses.
They couldnât do that ripping with their snouts. They had tusks.
She bet Hawaiian pigs had tusks, too. If so, howlong were they? Why hadnât she asked more questions when Kit, Auntie Cathy, Jonah, Megan, Cade, and, shoot, everyone around her had warned her about pigs?
Still listening to the muddy meandering, Darby wondered why this pig didnât move more stealthily. It was wild, or
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