out. Then two legs with long claws poked out of the water, followed by a large shell almost as big as Cain’s whole body.
“You thought that was a snake?” Abel cackled from behind him.
Cain felt his face grow hot with embarrassment. He suddenly wished he was back at home, in his bed and under his blanket. He regretted ever agreeing to come on this hike, forgetting for the moment that he had actually begged to come along.
“Now, now Abel, cut that out.” Adam said pinching Abel’s leg. “That right there is a very big turtle,” Adam whistled. “And it’s better to be cautious. Turtles can bite.”
Cain watched his dad pull out a scroll and his heart leaped. This was a new animal and he had discovered it. “Can we call it . . .” Cain paused, unable to think of a name.
“How about river turtle?” Abel shouted.
“Let’s let Cain have a try. He found it,” Adam said as he continued to sketch the turtle’s large shell.
Cain watched the turtle relax its claws into the warm sand, its head lowered onto the sand and its small black eyes following their movements. Cain wasn’t sure if it was relaxing or waiting to strike, but he had seen his brother touch every animal he named. He was determined to name it so he took a deep breath and took a few slow steps closer. The turtle didn’t move and finally Cain reached out his finger.
The wet shell was softer than the turtles in the river behind their house.
“It’s soft.” Cain said surprised.
“Soft-shelled turtle is a great name!” Adam smiled. Cain watched his dad write soft-shelled turtle beside the turtle drawing.
“Soft-shelled turtle.” Cain whispered to himself with pride.
After the turtle slumped back into the water, Cain beamed with pride, nearly bursting with excitement as they continued walking along the bank of the river.
Abel, determined to outshine his older brother, climbed down from his father’s shoulders and pulled out his small bow. He spent the rest of the day scanning the bushes for creatures, a short wooden arrow at the ready.
Adam sat in the sand engrossed in his scrolls, drawing and re-drawing the branch snake and soft-shelled turtle. Cain watched his younger brother miss two foxes, six rats, and four rabbits.
So Cain sat in the warm sand and waited. But as the afternoon wore on, Cain started to worry about his mom. He had never left her and baby Seth home alone this long. He skipped stones in the current to distract himself, but a long list of chores kept stacking up in his mind. He needed to milk the cows, pick the berries, get fresh water, change Seth’s soiled clothes . . . and as the sun disappeared behind the trees Cain couldn’t wait any longer.
“Do you want some help?” Cain asked, knowing he was a much better shot.
“No. I’m gonna bring home dinner.” Abel yelled as he searched for an arrow lost in a bush.
“Dad, we should probably get going,” Cain said, throwing the rest of his smooth stones into the river.
“Not until I get something!”
“Let’s let your brother catch something first,” Adam said, not looking up from his scroll.
The clouds overhead were a deep reddish purple by the time one of Abel’s arrows stuck in the neck of a baby rabbit.
Cain sighed with relief. He nudged his father, who was still drawing.
“Let’s go,” Cain pleaded. As they climbed the hill it was Cain who was leading the way. His robe was wet again but now the water felt cold against his skin. The forest bustled with new sounds, hoots and croaks. His stomach rumbled with hunger and he worried that there were other hungry mouths with sharp teeth and big claws out there, watching them. Cain cluched his stomach and pulled his father’s hand forward.
But Adam couldn’t be rushed. Stopping to sketch flowers and mushrooms he saw dotting the trail, even as the last light faded from the sky. Abel up on his shoulders, his tired eyes closing for long stretches. In the shadowy trails they got turned around, and after they passed what Cain was sure was the same fork in the path, the trail opened into a large clearing.
At the center of the clearing was a tall tree, twice as tall as those around it. Its main branches were as thick as Cain’s body and covered with long stringy branches that hung down like snarled hair. Each branch ended with a beautiful red and orange fruit with an almost skin-like rind. The clearing was filled with long thick roots that climbed under and over each other in every direction. There were no shrubs, and the dirt was cold and dry. The tree must have drunk all the water, Cain thought.
Adam whistled, “That is a beautiful tree.”
“Let’s bring some of the fruit home!” Abel said, his short arms grasping for a fruit hanging just out of his reach.
“It looks delicious.” Adam grabbed a fruit with both hands and gently tugged it from the branch.
“I bet it’s a healing fruit!” Abel smiled.
“It sure smells delicious.” Adam breathed in deeply. “Cain open your bag, buddy.”
Cain held his small leather satchel open as his father gently placed three of the fruits, each the size of his head, inside his now bulging bag. Cain winced as the satchel’s leather strap dug into his shoulder.
“You gonna be able to carry it?” Adam smiled, steadying Cain’s shoulder.
“I can carry it.” Cain leaned hard to keep his body from tipping over.
“I want to carry one!” Abel shouted.
“You carry your rabbit. That’s enough for you,” Adam replied.
Cain shot a smug smile up at his brother who was perched on top of their dad’s shoulders. “Put me down! I want to walk.” Abel insisted, his small hand punching Adam’s shoulder.
The three walked through the dark in a tired silence. Cain switched the heavy satchel from shoulder to shoulder every few paces.
When they finally left the forest, the sky was purple and dotted with red clouds. Cain could hear the cows calling from home. He felt his chest tighten and the day’s excitement was replaced with worry over all the things he had left undone. The vegetables needed watering, cows and goats needed milking, the eggs gathered, the tall grass around the house still needed to be burned, firewood chopped, the berries needed picking . . . and the list went on. Cain pulled the satchel up against his back and hurried along the winding dirt path home, leaving Adam and Abel behind him.
Once he was through the wooden gate, he hurried to the stable and milked the first cow he saw. Then using the weight of the satchel to counterbalance the nearly full jar of milk, Cain made his way along the small path though the tall dry grass into their darkened house.
Cain could hear his mother and baby brother Seth gently snoring in a duet from her bedroom nearby. He quietly struck the flints together a few times to light the oil lamps on the dining room table.
“Cain?” Eve called with a gravelly voice. “Cain, is that you?” She had clearly been sleeping.
“Don’t worry, mom, it’s just me,” he whispered, peeking his head into her dark bedroom. Her back was propped against the wall and her legs were hidden under blankets. She was exactly where Cain had left her. The only change in the room was that the water, berries, and bread he had left her that morning had been eaten. He dropped the satchel on the dirt floor and one of the fruits rolled out toward the bed.
“We missed you,” she whispered.
“I missed you too.” Cain smiled and kissed her on the cheek before he lit the bedside lamp. The warm glow illuminated Eve’s tired eyes and sallow cheeks. He picked Seth up off the bed and gently lay his sleeping brother on the floor.
“Hey, buddy,” Cain whispered in a light, bubbly voice, gently