Troll Daddy's Arc

Chapter 8 of 13

Troll Daddy looked up at the ridge trail ahead. The path was clear and dry, winding through open ground toward home. Troll Mother stood beside him with Troll Baby pressed against her shoulder. Troll Brother and Troll Sister sat on a fallen log, still catching their breath from the crossing. The sun hung low over the trees. He checked his father's compass and calculated the distance. Three miles, maybe four. Two hours in good conditions with adults who knew the trail. But his children had never walked this ridge before. A ranger station sat at the trailhead, its glass front reflecting the orange sky. Troll Daddy walked to the porch and found a map posted beside the door. The ridge trail was marked with yellow ribbons tied to posts every quarter mile. He traced the route with his finger. The ribbons would be visible in twilight if you knew to look for them. But darkness would erase them completely. He studied the terrain features—a granite outcrop two miles in, a creek crossing near the halfway point. His children wouldn't recognize these landmarks. They would only see shadows. He called Troll Brother and Troll Sister over. They stood on either side of him while he pointed to the map. "See these yellow posts?" he said. "Count them as we pass. When we reach the eighth one, we'll be at the creek." Troll Sister nodded. Troll Brother asked what happened if they lost count. Troll Daddy showed them the outcrop on the map and described its shape. "You'll know it when you see it," he said. "Even in low light." He made them repeat the features back to him until they could describe the route without looking. The shadow of the ridge crept across the valley floor as they started walking. Troll Daddy set a steady pace with Troll Mother beside him. Troll Brother walked ahead, watching for the first yellow post. Troll Sister carried Troll Baby and hummed softly to keep him calm. The first ribbon appeared around the bend, bright against the weathered wood. Troll Brother called out and kept moving. Troll Daddy felt the weight in his chest shift. They wouldn't make it home before dark. But his children knew what to look for now. He had finally stopped deferring the lesson to next weekend. He had taught them to read the trail while the light still held.