Page 16 of Captured on Film
But what if boozy bees—or whatever these new figments mightbe—were the clue they needed to figure out what in the world had happened uphere?
Shutter Bug
All of the following morning, Caleb kept busy settingup photographs. His goal was capturing figments on film, but he had to figureout how to get them into the frame. Since he’d spent most of his life ignoringand avoiding them, attracting them was a new concept.
Luring them in wasn’t working, which meant Caleb had to gowhere they were. So for the first time since his youngest years, he sat backand watched them.
Gradually, patterns emerged.
The whispery tendrils liked drifting through sunlit places, aimlessand eerie. Types that mostly looked like rodents or amphibians lurked in shade.He spent twenty minutes on his belly in the moss, waiting for an antlered mousethingie to decide he wasn’t a threat.
The instant the shutter snapped, it was gone in a flurry ofwings.
Cute little weirdo. He almost felt bad for scaring it off.
Near noon, there was a shift in the air. Caleb wasn’t surewhat else to call it, but something definitely changed. Suddenly, all the figmentswere moving toward the north. Was something luring them in that direction? Orwere they moving away from some unseen threat?
Caleb sat up and scanned the vicinity.
He stood, brushing off his pants. Yes, they were on themove. But where were they going? He wanted to find out. Because if they werecongregating somewhere, he might be able to snap a much better picture.
Taking small, careful steps, Caleb cut through theundergrowth. He paused to check his compass, marking his direction. It would betruly mortifying to lose his way so close to camp.
Wait.
Why was he so certain they weren’t going far?
Although Caleb couldn’t come up with a logical reason forthe impression, it stuck. Moving with the mini migration, he waved a hand todiscourage passengers while looking for signs that the previous campers had comethis way.
Tracking was more Josheb’s thing.
Caleb had a vague idea about footprints, broken twigs, andbent grasses, but that was mostly gleaned from old movies and bore noresemblance to the uninterrupted carpet of leaves and needles that made up theforest floor.
Focused on the movement of airborne figments, Caleb nearlystepped off an embankment.
A river lay below, sliding by with hardly a ripple. And onthe opposite bank, shored in by rocks, stood a low plinth. Lines shimmeredagainst stone. A faint note seemed to reach for him, emanating from a pale bluecrystal.
He had no idea what to do.
Just then, something rustled in the bushes. Caleb held hisbreath, deathly afraid that he was about to meet an apex predator. But it wasonly a deer. The young doe high-stepped through the ferns, her ears swiveling. Allvery dainty and lovely and harmless.
Except that she wore a collar. Knotted cords hung withbeads. No, they were crystals. And her rump was branded by a pattern thatgleamed against her pelt.
While he watched, she browsed her way unhurriedly toward theplinth.
Suddenly the air fizzed as if charged by a power source, anda scent wafted his way. The same he’d picked up earlier, but stronger now—thickand ripe and boozy.
The sun vanished behind a cloud.
The air filled with an ominous tension.
The doe took another step. And vanished.
Onto Something
“You’ve got to see this.”
Josheb followed, asking, “How far did you go?”
