Ancient Forces Collection Read Online Free

dark soon.”

    A few hours later, Becka leaned against Ryan’s shoulder. The group sat around the fire, cooking hot dogs and baked beans. It wasn’t as elegant as room ser vice in some fancy hotel, but it was definitely more romantic, and Becka loved it. She would have loved it even more if Ryan had paid some attention to her.
    It wasn’t that he ignored her, but she definitely got the feeling she came in second when compared to the sights and sounds around them: the mountains, the desert night sky, and all of the Indian culture. Well — Becka glanced around them — who could blame him? How could anyone compete with such majestic beauty?
    When they finally crawled into their tents, Becka was surprised at how much the ordeal at the bridge had taken out of her. Despite the hard ground, when she slid into her sleeping bag, she was asleep within seconds.
    The next morning she woke up to the sound of a hawk screeching overhead. For the briefest second she remembered her dream on the airplane. But the memory quickly faded in the peace and tranquillity of early morning at Starved Rock. Though she heard Scott and Ryan shuffling about making breakfast — most likely cold cereal and milk — she gave a long stretch and decided to stay with Mom a bit longer in the tent. Something about the chilly morning, the warm tent, and the complete and utter peace Becka felt made it more than a little difficult to rise and get moving.

    After breakfast, Scott and Ryan decided they’d explore the village a bit. Last night when they had arrived, it was nearly dark and they really hadn’t seen much. So now they were ready to go.
    They spotted the Indian boy who ran the campground, and Scott asked him what there was to see.
    “Not much, I’ll tell you that. But if you want the grand tour, I’ll take you.”
    “Great,” Scott said. “But don’t you have to check in people coming to the camp?”
    The boy smiled sadly. “Nobody comes to this camp. Not anymore.”
    Scott and Ryan exchanged glances.
    “My name is Little Creek,” the boy said, extending his hand.
    “Hi, Little Creek.” Ryan reached out and shook his hand. “My name is Ryan.”
    “And
I’m Scott Williams,” Scott added, also shaking Little Creek’s hand.
    “I’m very glad you have come to visit,” Little Creek said. “We used to get tourists but not for several months now . . . not since the drought. Come on, I’ll show you the sights.” With that, he turned and started down the road. Scott and Ryan fell in step beside him.
    “How long has the drought been going on?” Scott asked.
    “It started during the last growing season, killing most of last year’s crop.”
    Ryan scowled. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
    Little Creek nodded. “And it’s continued into this year. Many people didn’t even plant this spring because the soil is so dry.”
    “Can’t you irrigate or something?” Scott asked. “I mean, isn’t that what modern farmers do?”
    “Wealthy modern farmers, sure. But it costs too much to run irrigation pipes all the way up into these mountains.”
    “That’s not a great situation,” Ryan said.
    “Our people have always depended on the rain,” Little Creek answered. “The crops we grow don’t need much, but there has been no rain for so long that many people are thinking of leaving the village and moving.”
    Scott glanced about as they moved past the small shacks and sod huts. “Why don’t you just pack up the whole village?” he asked. “Doesn’t seem like it would be too hard. There’s not that much stuff.”
    Little Creek smiled. “Things are easy to pack, but people aren’t. Our traditions weigh much more than our material goods.”
    “What’s that supposed to mean?” Ryan asked.
    “It means the old people are too stubborn to move.”
    Soon the three came to the end of the village. Just beyond it was a huge rock, bigger than any boulder Scott had ever seen. “Check it out,” he said, pointing to the colossal rock.