Eden by Keith; Korman Read Free Book Online Page A

all sign of the wild man and his donkey. The two must have departed sometime in the night. As Eden’s master prepared to leave, he took with him only what he could carry: a gourd of water, a handful of nuts, a few slices of dried fish.
    Eden took a long drink from the river that morning as her master washed his face, a drink of water that seemed to restore her from nose to tail, the strength of puppyhood returning with every swallow. She ran in circles round her master’s legs, happy to be alive. The sun rose across the flowing water, its sparkles dazzling their eyes. Dog and man bid farewell to that bright, empty shore, and Eden followed her master into the wilderness.
    Though much of her vigor returned, over the course of days the paths they trod weighed down her wagging tail. How many days and nights? Eden could not tell. The dog saw daylight rise and dark night fall about their heads, while the bare earth turned beneath their feet. Grimly they staggered and stumbled through empty canyons of rock.
    The handful of nuts and the gourd of water vanished before the first sunset, yet Eden and her master struggled onward. Though by what power their hunger was held at bay neither the man nor animal could say. And though the desert air closed their throats and their salty tongues swelled to fill their mouths, their thirst did not finish them off. They plodded on.
    Each day the sun rose through naked towers of stone, and each day they grew thinner in face and muzzle, weary in flesh and breath, yet neither lay down to die. And stranger still, Eden seemed to hear the rocks under their feet speak, whispering in low tones as if to mock them.
    â€œWhy are you here?” asked one stone.
    â€œWhere are you going?” whispered another.
    â€œAren’t you hungry?” one rock asked.
    â€œAren’t you thirsty?” taunted another.
    Eden tried to growl, can a dog not walk here? Can a man not follow? But her dry throat made no sound. And as if to tempt her, cold flowing streams filled her mind, visions of rushing water across river stones, dripping combs of wild honey in the trunks of trees, the drowsy hum of many bees, while young lambs bedded down in fields of clover …
    Suddenly Eden realized she’d been standing still for some time, her master no longer walking. She could feel the weariness pour from him. Without a staff for support he sat heavily on a large flat outcropping.
    Another creature had joined them in this stark channel of rock.
    The newcomer looked very much like a man, but lacked a human smell. No scent of sweat or dirt or even the parched desert came from him, just the stink of ashes and tar, charred bones and crushed hope. He crouched on a narrow ledge in a cleft of rocks and looked down, almost blocking their way. In order to go on they would have to pass under him.
    â€œAre you clean?” the man asked. “Now that you’ve bathed in the river?” Eden heard a note of scorn in his voice. As if neither man nor beast could ever be clean. She watched her master look up wearily from the stone.
    â€œClean enough,” her master replied, but did not rise, too weak to go around or push on past. Eden felt the two men strive for a moment, their eyes a battle of wills: her master, a man of flesh and blood, against this adversary on the ledge, wearing the skin of a man, a cloak of abysmal deeeps, hiding nothing but emptiness beneath.
    â€œThat’s a narrow perch on which you sit,” her master said at length.
    â€œYou’re welcome to join me.”
    â€œI cannot balance as well as you.”
    â€œWell, let us find you some place where you can.”
    And with that their adversary stood, brushed himself off and turned, leading them to a steep path—unnoticed till now. The hidden path rose upwards into the cliffs. He beckoned and Eden’s master began to climb. Not too steep for a man to crawl on hand and knee, nor too steep for Eden. She followed, panting as