Ch 4. False Freedom

              Deron hit the ground running, saw a fence and some men, ran straight through the fence, and left it all behind in a cloud of dust.  He ran as hard and fast as he could, completely oblivious to his surroundings.  After several miles Deron began to tire, and settle down.  As he did, he slowed to a trot, and started to survey his surroundings.  He was in a vast, flat valley of hard packed white dirt, dotted with little bitty, scruffy looking bushes, and nothing else.  In the distance he could see mountains, but they looked short, stumpy and just as desolate.  He suddenly stopped in his tracks, and panic set in.

         He now realized that he was very far from home. He was obviously in a very harsh and strange land.  He had no idea where he was, and just as little of an idea where to go.  The next thought that entered his mind was that he was thirsty, and maybe a little bit hungry.  There seemed to be no immediate answer to his thirst.  In the mountains, no doubt, he would find a stream to get a drink.  Meanwhile, Deron figured he’d fill his belly a little. He bent down and took a mouth full of one of the scrubby little bushes. 

         The flavor that attacked his tongue was violently bitter, and somehow the bush managed to suck more moisture out of Deron’s already parched mouth.  Thorns stuck in his tongue and cheeks.  Deron gagged, and spit out the wicked little plant.  Deron glanced up at the sun that was beating down on him, and he realized he’d better get moving.           Deron the moose was in trouble indeed.