Pat The Badger

Previously

…That night, they made camp in a hollow log. The silver feather glowed steadily, pointing west. Greg fell asleep listening to Squeaky’s soft snoring and the distant rumble of the waterfall. In his dreams, he saw a dark shape moving under the roots of the forest, whispering, “Two more… two more… then the light will fade forever.” He woke with a start. The moon was high, and the feather pulsed gently. Tomorrow, they would find the Glade of Whispers. And the shadow would be waiting.