He was cold, he was hungry, caked in mud with twigs clinging to his clumped up dirty fur. He was tired and wanted to sleep but he couldn’t find anywhere dry to lay his sleepy head. Had he been older and more experienced with harsh weather and the conditions they left behind, he would have known that walking through the wet mud was a bad idea. Elliot Moon was just a boy though and little boys don’t know all that much about such big worlds. Little boys were naïve and the world was cruel. The swarthy, filthy child had stumbled into a particularly dangerous situation. His right paw was stuck in the muck and his left was sinking fast. The more he struggled, the stronger the mud held. The more it held, the more he struggled. It was an endless cycle and he was starting to panic, his thoughts all jumbled as he tried to pull himself free from the cold, wet hold.
He yelped and barked, dull orange eyes that were once so bright desperately searching for someone to come and find him, to help him so he could leave. He didn’t like it! He wanted it to just let go! But it simply wouldn’t, the almost sentient mud’s suction was as stubborn as a mule. Elliot barked again. And again. And again and again until it just became a continuous string of calls, panicked and tired against the silence of the Red Fern Forest. For the second time in the Moon child’s life, he was at the mercy of nature. All alone. <b style="font-family:georgia; font-size:11px; color:#7e0b46">