To The Peaks

Twelve-year old Quinn Dasher walked down the street, away from his house. He was supposed to be helping unpack, but right now he didn’t really want too. Besides, they still had almost a month till they had to move. Quinn didn’t understand why he and his dad were going to move, but as least they were going somewhere that sounded exciting, even though he had no clue why they were going to a place so far from anyone. His dad’s exact words when he first announced they were moving were, ‘We’re moving to the peaks,’ which prompted Quinn to believe they were moving to the mountains. And he was right. In the middle of nowhere.

Quinn quickened his pace. Would he have friends there? Would there even be people there? In those mountains, Quinn didn’t think there would be any people. But his dad said that there would be lots of animals there, which would be fine with Quinn. He loved animals, especially birds.

“Dad said there would be lots of birds there…” Quinn muttered to himself. “That’s something.” But birds aren’t friends...

Quinn looked around the neighborhood. He had never really liked all the houses being so close and the yards so tiny, but of course he couldn’t help that. But now that they were moving to the mountains… most likely there wouldn’t be any other houses for miles. And miles. And miles. And lots of land. Not open land, Quinn’s dad said it was mostly forest.

Finally, Quinn turned around to head back home. The sun was setting, and oranges and yellows and golds and pinks were lighting the cloudless sky in the west, while a deep, dark blue scattered faintly with dim stars crept up from the east, quickly swallowing the bright sunset.

Quinn pushed open the front door to his house and stepped in. He started for his bedroom to start packing again, but a hand shot out of the kitchen and swung the boy into the room. Quinn yelped and jumped back. His dad grinned down at him.

“You scared me!” cried Quinn breathlessly.

“I can see you haven’t been packing,” Quinn’s dad, John Dasher, said sternly.

“No. I went for a walk though. I’ll go pack now.” Quinn turned to go, but John reached out and pulled him back again.

“Not yet. You can do that after dinner. I got pizza,” chuckled John.

“Yes!” Quinn pumped his fist in the air.

“And salad!”

“Even better,” said Quinn, grinning.

“And don’t forget to set the table!” called John. Quinn ran off to set the table.

His thoughts were turned away from moving. For now.

Almost a month later, Quinn sat staring out the window of their truck, bored out of his mind. He had books to read, of course, but he got carsick way too easily. The moving truck followed closely behind them, rattling along the dusty road, kicking up even more dust then John’s truck.

“We’re almost there,” John said, looking in the rearview window at Quinn.

“You said that an hour ago,” moaned Quinn.

“Fair point, I guess. We’ll be there in ten minutes, I believe.”

“But you said that fifteen minutes ago!”

“True enough. We’ll be there—you know what? Never mind, I’ll just keep my mouth shut.” John closed his mouth. Quinn grinned. This time, as he would soon realize, Quinn’s dad was right. Ten minutes later they pulled off the long, winding dirt road onto another long, winding dirt road. Maybe it looked closer to a deer trail then an actual road.

“Are we almost there?” asked Quinn eagerly, peering up ahead. All he could see was the dirt road and trees. Lots of pine trees. His feet had long since fallen asleep.

“This is our driveway!” said John.

“Oh.” Quinn wrinkled his nose. This is our driveway? You have got to be kidding me. I thought it was… well, I guess I don’t know what I thought it was, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen a driveway this long before. I didn’t think any like this existed! Quinn tried to see through the pine trees, to get a glimpse of their new house, but he couldn’t see anything. Except pine trees, of course. And more trees. And more.

Finally, a few minutes later—but what seemed like an eternity to Quinn—they stopped in a large clearing, with a river to the left, more mountains sloping up in front of them, and a small log cabin towards the back of the clearing. John parked the truck next to the cabin and Quinn, slinging his backpack over one shoulder, jumped out and closed the door behind him. The moving truck parked next to them.

Quinn took in a sharp breath. It was amazing here. The air seemed so pure, so sweet, compared to the city air, full of gasoline and who-knows-what-else.

He breathed in deeply. The birds were chirping too, more birds then Quinn had heard before in one place. But even with the birds, and the wind and river, it seemed so quiet and peaceful compared to the din of the city. Maybe life here will be better then I even hoped!

“Well, Q, what do you think of it?” asked John, coming up to stand beside Quinn.

“It’s amazing… I… I can’t believe it!”

“What were you picturing?” chuckled John, resting his hands on his hips.

“I don’t know. I never thought there could be this many birds singing all at once… it’s amazing here!” he repeated.

“Well, why don’t we help the moving men unpack, and then you can go explore.” John squeezed Quinn’s shoulder and left. Quinn lingered for just a moment longer, then left to help unpack. Sure, this place is remote—well, not just remote, it’s super-remote—but beautiful. I can’t wait to explore here, thought Quinn in excitement. For the next few hours, he helped unpack the moving truck, and after it had left, he helped his dad somewhat set up their new home. It would take some time to get fully settled in. The house was small, only two bedrooms, one bathroom, a kitchen, dining room, and living room, and even those rooms were small. Finally John gave Quinn permission to explore.

“But be back before supper! And don’t go too far—this place is remote enough you could be wandering alone for days before being found if you get lost!” called John as Quinn hurried to the door. “And don’t let the mountain lions get you!” he joked.

“I won’t!”

“Or bears! Or cougars!”

“I get it!” Quinn laughed and ran outside and blinked in the sudden light. Before darting into the forest, Quinn looked back at the cabin. It was snuggled back against the forest, with a small stream of smoke coming out of the chimney where John had just started a fire. It looked picturesque enough to be in a puzzle or something, thought Quinn. Then he turned and raced into the forest. There wouldn’t be much time to explore before the sun set, a few hours at most, so Quinn wanted to start sooner rather then later.

He had taken his backpack with him, where he had stashed a coil of climbing rope, a compass, a drawing journal, some pencils, and a few energy bars, along with other things. His binoculars hung around his neck.

After a few minutes of jogging under the trees, Quinn found a small clearing with a fallen tree leaning against another on the edge.

He perched himself at the top of the fallen tree and took out his drawing journal and a sharp pencil. He sat still and waited for birds, letting his thoughts drift. I wonder why Dad wanted to move… I know he never liked living in the city—neither of us did—but why didn’t we move sooner? At least now there’s a ton of birds. And speaking of birds… Quinn lifted his binoculars and gazed at the two birds flitting about in the branches of the tall pines that had just arrived. Those are easy enough: cardinals. A male and a female. Quinn watched the birds for a minute, then started sketching. He only did a rough drawing, but he could add to it later.

More birds arrived soon after, unaware of the boy sitting almost as still as a stone not far away, besides his sketching. He also spotted some black-capped chickadees, sparrows, and a few hermit thrushes, among others.

After a while of drawing and watching, Quinn stood and stretched. The birds startled and flew away. Putting his things away, he started off into the forest again, checking his compass before heading off.

He came across a cliff not long after, no more then fifteen feet tall, if Quinn had to guess. It was full of handholds and footholds, a great place for climbing. Quinn stared at it for a few minutes. Then he took off his backpack, still staring at the cliff, and slowly took out the climbing rope.

He and his father had gone rock climbing a few times, but not very high cliffs. This shouldn’t be too hard at all. Quinn looked down at the rope in his hands. He would have to attach it at the top to actually use it… instead, he clipped it to his belt and stepped up to the cliff, studying it to find the best spot to begin. Once he was satisfied, Quinn started his ascent. Hand after hand, foot after foot, shift to the left, shift to the right, up, up, up. And up. He made it to the top after a few near-falls, but made it up fine nonetheless.

The view from the top was amazing. Quinn could see their new cabin from where he stood, with a small curl of smoke still swirling from the chimney.

While he had been hiking to the cliff, Quinn had noticed the ground sloping upwards, and then there was the cliff’s height, which just barely put the boy above the trees, giving him the stunning view he had, perched on the edge of the cliff. Some were still taller then him, though.

He could see the city spread out to his right, far off in the distance, lights twinkling, ready for the oncoming night. The mountains were off to his left as far as he could see, fading into the distance. They were tall, swooping, majestic, covered in trees and little squiggly lines of blue—rivers. Some tumbled off a cliff into waterfalls, or flowed into lakes or ponds.

And also to the left, on a ledge higher then the one Quinn was on, though some distance away, perched an animal. A mountain lion. Quinn’s heart seized. He didn’t know much about mountain lions, except that he did not want to be stuck with one. It didn’t seem to notice him. At least he isn’t that close, thought Quinn, though it barely helped calm him.

Slowly, ever so slowly, Quinn took out his binoculars and peered through at the mountain lion. It was actually pretty cool, he admitted, to be seeing this. He wished he had some sort of camera.

The tip of its tail twitched as it peered around with narrow, calculating stares. Dusty brown fur, twitching tail, and cunning eyes—that was what Quinn would remember most of all about the cat.

After another few minutes, the cat left, bounding away, and Quinn stared after it, long after it had disappeared. Quinn turned away from the spot where that cat had been, back to the breathless view stretched out in front of him, though he jumped at every noise behind him, half thinking the cat had snuck around behind him.

Once again, the sight of the mountains ahead took Quinn’s breath away. He stayed there for quite some time, enjoying the view. Once he spotted a bald eagle soaring on the currents of wind far above.

He still jumped and looked behind him at almost every noise.

When he finally stirred himself to get home, and with night descending fast, Quinn scrambled down the first ten or so feet, slipping more then once, and fell the rest of the way. Luckily there wasn’t far to fall, and Quinn bounced back up again, uninjured. Then he jogged off towards home, after slinging his backpack on his back again. Home. What a wonderful word. And now these mountains were Quinn’s home. Even though Quinn still didn’t know why they had moved here, he was glad they had moved to this remote place far from any civilization. It was wild, untamed, free. Home. It was home.