3. The Storm and the Mermaids

My feet tumble to a stop at the end of the dock. I hear a commotion behind me. I turn to see the cabin shaking and hear the roaring of a bear. I look back down at the dock, the canoe, the clear water. Something about that water...
THUMP! Bernard! He's crawled out of my bag and is making for the lake.
"Oh, no you don't." I snatch him up. The bear roars in the distance. I turn.
It doesn't seem right to leave Spindlewind alone in there. But what can I do? The smoke that was pouring out the chimney is swirling above the cabin now, turning itself into a storm cloud.
Don't panic. Think.
I breathe in. I breathe out.
Spindlewind said that the "enemy" only blocked the doors and windows. That's why I could get out through the chimney. So if I create a new opening, perhaps Spindlewind can get out too. I don't have any better ideas right now.
Don't these creepy old houses usually have an axe lying around somewhere?
Keeping my head as low as possible, I dash around the cabin. I can reflect on the stupidity of my actions after I figure out what the heck is going on here.
Exactly as if it's a prop in a low-budget horror movie, there it is -- a pile of wood in the backyard with an axe buried into it.
I feel the iron poker jabbing at my leg as I run. I pause to unhook it from my belt and wield it in front of me, ready for whatever inanimate object might attack me next.
A lightning bolt lights up the sky. I drop the poker and drop to the ground. The back of my neck tingles. I look up. Lightning cracks down onto the axe. It implodes and disappears.
"No!"
The storm cloud swirls in a circle, darker and stranger than any storm I've ever seen. Another CRACK. A light behind me. I flip around and see the cabin get hit. It collapses into itself and vanishes. The storm cloud disappears too.
Now I'm on my butt in a patch of grass, behind a square patch of dirt where a cabin used to be. In the middle of the patch of dirt is a large ball of brown fur.
"Spindlewind!" 
I force myself back to my feet. All the hair on my body is standing on end.
The ball of brown fur is shaking. The static in his fur makes him look like a hedgehog.
"Spindlewind, are you okay?"
Spindlewind lifts his big brown head and opens his mouth. 
"Grrr-arrrg," says Spindlewind. 
I find my poker in the grass. At least the storm left me that. I wish it had left the axe.
"What was that, Spindlewind?" I say.
Spindlewind roars and whimpers. He paws at his throat.
"So we've escaped from the cabin and now you can't talk anymore. How convenient. How am I supposed to get home now, huh?
Spindlewind whimpers again and shrugs.
"Come on, Bernard, there has to be a road around here somewhere." I peak inside the pocket of my tote bag. Bernard is gone!
"Bernard!" I yell. I spin about, looking in the grass around me. Nothing. "Bernard, where are you?"
Spindlewind springs to his feet, rears up on his toes, and avoids the grass.
"Oh, come on, bear. He's just a little turtle."
Spindlewind grunts.
I stand as still as possible, looking for movement in the grass.
"Bernard?"
How far can he have gotten? How am I going to explain to my family that my turtle ran away?
Spindlewind roars. He shakes his mass of fluff and takes off running toward the dock.
"Wait! Spindlewind, wait!" I run after him, one hand with a tight grip on the poker, which has so far been useless, and the other hand clutching closed the tote bag, which has done a terrible job of the one thing it's supposed to do -- hold things.
I hear Spindlewind's paws slam against the dock and stop. He paces at its head.
I catch up to him and glimpse over his shoulder a turtle moving surprisingly quickly down the wooden planks toward the water. I duck between the bear's legs to get past him.
Bernard pauses at the end of the dock only long enough to look back at me. Then he walks right off the edge.
My turtle...
I know I shouldn't get so sympathetic about a turtle, but I do. I am. Bernard's the perfect companion: he's quiet, he's independent, and he's durable. He's always been there for me. He wasn't even supposed to be a turtle. He was supposed to be a goldfish. A goldfish was about all the responsibility I could handle, according to my mom. But that day on the way to the pet shop, when I swerved into a ditch to avoid hitting a rock that turned out to be Bernard, I knew. Bernard would always walk with me into danger.
So where is he going? Should I let him be free? Maybe he--
The full weight of a grizzly bear hurls against my back, and both Spindlewind and I tumble into the lake, the back of my shirt locked into his jaw.
I am not a serene warrior. I'm freaking the heck out.
I flail and gasp and try to disentangle myself from the bear.
Bad idea. I sucked in water.
Don't breathe... can't breathe... lungs hurt...
I no longer feel the bear on my back. Something that feels like a hand touches my neck. Seaweed?
Suddenly, I get the sensation of the water rushing out of my lungs on its own. I reflexively breathe in again and am surprised to discover that it's okay.
I'm inside a giant bubble, but I'm still going downwards. Or is it upwards? How deep is this lake?
Creatures with hair like seaweed and tails that look like fish, if the fish were also made of seaweed, swirl around me.
"I don't believe in mermaids," I say.
"Yeah, well maybe we don't believe in Glass," says one of the mermaids before smacking my bubble with her tail.
I float upwards. Up. Up. My bubble breaks the surface of the lake. I breathe deeply and tread water. Behind me, I hear a plop and a splash. Spindlewind calmly swings his giant legs and propels himself toward me. He treads a moment, allowing me to grab on to his fur as he paddles me toward the surface. 
I breath. This place looks like the same lake and the same woods, but it's strange now. Well, stranger. I don't feel like I'm in the same place at all.
When we're close enough to the shore for me to get my feet in the mud, I let go of his fur and trudge toward land. One of my shoes is missing and my socked foot absorbs every molecule of gunk that lies on lake beds.
Looking forward toward the grass, I see him.
There you are, Bernard.



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