Carter's P.O.V.
As the wind began to pick up Carter ran down the big hill that led to a little stream at the end of her family’s territory. She knew that her father had told her to stay close to the house when he and her brothers were off in the forest hunting but she didn’t think one quick trip to the stream and back would hurt anyone.
It was the beginning of November and the leaves were turning from deep greens to blazing reds and burnt oranges. Her mother had always thought this time of year was the prettiest. With all the birds migrating south the bird feeders were always buzzing with a new type. They used to sit and watch them for hours. But that was then.
As Carter leaped from rock to rock to cross the stream she remembered the time that her brother, Jase, and she were racing across the rocks and she had slipped and fell into the water. She didn’t hurt herself more than a twisted ankle and a scrapped hand. Her mother had put ice on her ankle and a band-aid on her cut. It wasn’t much but it made her feel one hundred percent better. Her mother could always do that, do simply things and make you feel better.
A few tiny minnows swam in a distant, deep pool of chilling water. Carter bent down and stuck her finger into the water; it was too cold to try to catch fish with her hand made net that involved a bunch of splashing and running around in the water. She stood up and decided to go back to the house and make a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.
As she began to run up the hill she thought she heard a twig snap in the distance, she ran faster. Papa had always scared her into the thought that with every snap of a stick the wolves get closer. He was only joking around and trying to make her realize to be careful. But she knew what had happened to the Anderson’s goat and she didn’t want that to happen to her.
