Skeleton Man by Joseph Bruchac

around and fall to one knee.

    The creature is there, on top of the slope above us. He’s no more than a hundred yards away from us, and the light of the moon that shone so gently on me is stark and hard in the way it lights up the creature that looms there above me. He is taller than a tall man. He wears tattered buckskin clothing, clothing that hangs from him in shreds. But he has no need of clothing to warm his flesh, for whatever flesh he once had is gone. Shiny white bones can be seen through the rips in his buckskin shirt, and his head is a glistening skull.
    But even though he is a skeleton, he has eyes. His eyes are green and burn like strange flames, and there is a darkness about his teeth that I’m sure is dried blood. The creature turns his head, as if sniffing the air. Then he stares down toward us and he opens his mouth in a wide grin. He raises his arm and points down toward us. Correction, toward me. For when I look around for my guide, I realize that the rabbit has disappeared,
    â€œMy niece,” the Skeleton Man cries, in a voice that is both scream and whisper, “I am coming for youuuuu!”
    I’m ready, more than ready, to wake up now.

12
Across the Log
    A S THE S KELETON Man starts down the hill toward me, he seems to have a hard time keeping his balance on the steep slope. Waving his long arms, he begins to slide. His bony feet are too slippery! He begins to fall and then, crashing through the brush and fallen limbs, he rolls right past me and splashes into the river.
    â€œWe have to keep running,” says a voice next to me. I look down. It’s the rabbit.
    â€œWhere were you?” I ask. I’m reallyupset that it deserted me.
    â€œI knew the creature would fall,” the rabbit says. “That is why I took us down this trail. But he has not been killed. He will climb out of the river again and follow us. Hurry, I have found the place where we can get across.”
    The rabbit starts up a trail I hadn’t noticed before. We climb higher and higher. A roaring sound is getting louder and louder. Then I realize what I am hearing, and I know where we are. We’re going up toward the top of the falls where the river is narrower. There is another bridge there in my time, one that a road goes over. But what will be there now?
    I am panting hard when we reach the top of the steep trail.
    â€œOh no,” I say as I see what we have to cross.
    â€œOh yes,” says the rabbit.
    I look hard at the rabbit, for it sounds as if it’s making fun of me. But all it does is keep pointing with its paw toward the place where we must go. There is nothing more than a dead tree that has fallen across the river, right over the falls. Even though the tree was tall enough to reach the other side, its trunk isn’t that thick. Going across will be like walking on a tightrope.
    The moonlight glistens on the white foam of the water striking the rocks far below. It is a long way down. I’ve heard that when you fall in a dream you always wake up before you hit the bottom. I don’t want to find out if this is true. I also have a feeling that this dream isn’t just any dream. If I get hurt in this dream, I think it won’t just be a scary memory when I wake up—if I wake up.
    I want to protest again, but there’s no time. The rabbit is already halfway across and I know that I have to follow. I’ve never been afraid of heights. After all, I’m the daughter of a Mohawk man who worked the high iron before he went into the banking business and met my mom. My dad and other Mohawks like him built places like the World Trade towers. But even though I’m not usually afraid of heights, I’ve never done anything like this before. Maybe, I think, I could crawl across. I stand there, not ready to put even one foot on that tree trunk.
    â€œAyyyyy-aaaahhhh!”
    The scream is now so close that I am on the log before I have time to decide whether to