“Do you know where canyons come from?” Mom asked, cheating as usual. Whenever she gets stuck, she uses science to invent some improbable story because she knows a dog can’t argue with science. This time, she didn’t even wait for me to guess. “Rivers dig canyons over millions of years.”

“Can’t the Witch call for help or something?” I asked. “You think there’s going to be cell service all the way out there?” Mom challenged. “We just left the only town big enough for a stop sign for 100 miles in any direction.” 

As my ears roamed juice boxes, my eyes stayed stuck to the door where Mom had disappeared. Every time the door opened, instead of Mom, a bandit or a veterinarian came out carrying big bags of loot.

Mom’s shoe reached under the table and hooked the loop. I clamped my butt to the floor and braced all four legs. The leash pulled taut and my collar dug into my neck. 

“You sure are lucky you’re leaving the City when you are. It’s coming…” She paused for a meaningful look and her eyes added, You know what I’m talking about and how monstrous it is. 

“You don’t have to beat all of life’s levels by yourself. Sometimes someone has already made it easier, but you have to take their hints.”

“You don’t have to beat all of life’s levels by yourself. Sometimes someone has already made it easier, but you have to take their hints.”

I stepped into the river and made a big show of stopping for a drink to show the water that couldn’t push me around.

“They can’t catch us if we outrun them.” Mom leaned forward and fell uphill in what looked like the sprint of someone who just grew legs

“They can’t catch us if we outrun them.” Mom leaned forward and fell uphill in what looked like the sprint of someone who just grew legs

“It must be a river,” Mom said in a sleepy voice. “This place is called Mad Gorge which means—"

“It must be a river,” Mom said in a sleepy voice. “This place is called Mad Gorge which means—"

I must have been behind a rock by the time Mom came by. The next time I heard her, she was bellowing my name from farther down the trail.

I must have been behind a rock by the time Mom came by. The next time I heard her, she was bellowing my name from farther down the trail.

"Ack! Do you feel that?” Mom gasped. “The barometric pressure! I feel like I’m choking.”

"Ack! Do you feel that?” Mom gasped. “The barometric pressure! I feel like I’m choking.”

“I don’t see why someone has to sit out in the rain all day just to do something for me that I’m perfectly capable of doing myself...”

“I don’t see why someone has to sit out in the rain all day just to do something for me that I’m perfectly capable of doing myself...”

We ran down the paved road with the shadows of branches on our heads and the smell of clouds in our noses. Ahead, on the other left , a dirt car-trail came to meet the road. Where they came together, a fan of dirty tire prints smeared the pavement, as if nature were trying to reclaim its territory. “Look! Mom! Another road, just like you said there’d be!” I ran ahead to show her the way. “And there are sticks!” Mom hurried to catch up. “Yes! I remember that log now. This is d

“I thought you said we couldn’t get lost!” I gasped. Suddenly, the mailman van felt very far away.