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The Wolves

by Sarah Gordon, age 10, from US


My feet were cold and my legs ached as I walked in the cold, hard, crunchy snow. It was in Nevada, and I was on a camping trip with some other hikers. I had been walking for hours in the morning sun and my nose tingled and I was sore all over.

"Let's rest," I panted, because I was so sore.

"That sounds like a good idea, Lucy. We've already hiked sixteen miles," the lead hiker said. He looked pretty tired too.

I helped my group set-up tents, which had gotten cold and stiff, but as soon as we managed to put them up, everybody settled down.

I took my journal out of my camping bag and wrote all I could, including all about the snow. It was my first time using the journal, so I took good care of it. I got that journal from my mom, at my last birthday when I turned thirteen. She knew that I was going on a camping trip in the mountains, and she also got me some clothes.

Remembering my birthday was bringing the subject of my old friends to my mind. I remembered my best friend, Kate and the time we used to play card games. We used to color pictures of horses and rainbows. We painted pictures too, and when we did, we would admire each other's pictures and laugh at one another's when we were being silly and painted just blobs. I remembered the time when we sat on the hill where we had built a tree-house, and on that hill it was a sunny day, so we looked up into the sky and spotted animals in the clouds. Kate would laugh, because most of the time I would spot wolves. Wolves were my favorite animal, and they still are. I was only seven when my best friend Kate and I last played together, and remembering this mad me drowsy.

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