Crock Time Traveler

CHAPTER TWO THE STORM OF ALL STORMS

Crock was standing just pasted the life tree by the opening of the family cave looking at the night sky. Another raining night. It was unusually bright out for rain . Crocks mind ran in many directions, lost in thought He was cold and finding it hard to stay warm.He didn't like sleeping with his smelly sisters but in order to stay warm they pile up like cubs. He was warm but he was also fighting for air.He almost always was in the bottom.

Crocks father was also looking at the nights sky. It had been many moons since heed seen anything like it. He asked his own mother if she remembers ,"THE DAY" Yes, his mother answered.How could she forget.

As he watched the sky a sudden crack came from above. Then rolling thunder. Not long after that came the down pour.

Crocks' father nudged his son gently. "Come on, Crock. Let's go inside. It's not safe out here." He led him towards the family cave, where the rest of their family was waiting. As they entered, they saw Crocks' grandmother sitting by the fire, her fur gray and matted. She looked up at them with a weary smile. "There you are, my boys. I was worried about you." She motioned for them to join her. "Sit down, sit down. I have something to tell you."

Crocks' father sat down next to his mother, while Crock curled up beside him. He felt his father's warmth and strength, and he felt a little less afraid. He listened as his grandmother began to speak. "You see, this is not the first time I have seen such a thing in the sky. When I was a young , just like you, Crock, there was a night when the sky was filled with bright flashes and loud noises. It was terrifying. We thought the world was ending."

"What happened then, Grandma?" Crock asked, his eyes wide with curiosity and fear.

"Well, we hid in our cave, just like we are doing now. We prayed to the Great Spirit, and we waited for the storm to pass. And it did, eventually. But the next day, when we went outside, everything was different. The trees were burned, the grass was scorched, and the air was thick with smoke. And there were strange things lying on the ground, things we had never seen before. They looked like metal and plastic, and they had wires and buttons and screens. They were the things that the humans of future used, the things that they made the sky angry with."

"The humans, we are human?" Crocks repeated, confused. "Who are the humans of future?"

"The humans of the future are the ones who live in the big cities, far away from here. They are the ones who have no fur, no claws, no tails. They walk on two legs like us, and they use tools and machines. They are the ones who are destroying our world, Crocks. They are the ones who are taking our land, our water, our food. They are the ones who are hunting us, killing us, putting us in cages like our animals. They are the ones who are causing all this trouble, all this pain, all this suffering."

Crocks' father sighed. He knew his mother was telling the truth, but he also knew that there was more to the story. He had seen some humans of the future who were kind, who helped them, who protected them. He had also seen some of his own kind who were cruel, who betrayed them, who sold them out. He knew that the world was not black and white, but shades of gray. He knew that his son needed to learn that too, someday. But not today. Today, he needed to comfort him, to reassure him, to make him feel safe. He wrapped his arm around Crock, and said, "Don't worry, Crock We are here for you. We love you. We will always be here for you. No matter what happens, we will always be your family. And we will always be free."

Crock fell asleep, feeling more puzzled than ever. He woke up to a loud noise. "Good Morning, Crock!" his sister exclaimed. "What are you doing?" he asked. "Listening," she replied. "To what?" Crock wondered. He tried to hear what she was hearing. "The elders, silly. Be quiet. They are talking about what is coming soon." She lowered her voice. "What is coming?" Crock whispered. "The storm and the future humans," she said. "The elders want someone to scout the abandoned." Crock nodded. He crept back into his family cave.

He had an idea.