Chapter 75
Me and the kid hike down the hill all morning. After about thirty minutes, I take the lead. He may be brave, but Lark sure don’t know where he’s going. Instead of heading west over the tall grass of the plains, we go east. Straight into the cast-iron woods. The name is accurate. Long, narrow post oak trees sprout up from dead leaves, mingled with leafier blackjack oak. Both types of tree are so black and hard that they seem closer to metal than to wood. A year ago, I never could of guessed how useful that would turn out to be. Three hours into the hike we get close to where we’re going. Just a little old clearing in the woods. But this is the area where I first found the tracks. A trail of rectangular holes pushed into the mud, each print about the size of a deck of cards. Near as I coul
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