Read Online Freewalker by Dennis Foon - Free Book Online Page A

water.” Roan isn’t sure which thought makes him more uncomfortable.
    â€œAnd what, do you suppose, could have done that?”
    â€œA predator that eats bullfrogs at night.”
    â€œI was afraid you’d say that.”
    â€œMaybe we’re sharing their safe haven and don’t know it.”
    â€œWhat sort of predator, do you think?”
    â€œSome kind of fish?” Roan replies.
    â€œIt’d have to be a pretty big fish to eat one of these giant frogs.”
    â€œSnake?”
    â€œI don’t like snakes. And I really wouldn’t like a snake that eats frogs this size.”
    â€œIt might just be that they’re attracted to the dry ground. Or maybe it’s mating season.”
    â€œI don’t see any mating going on.” Lumpy looks nervously at the water. There’s no sign of movement, apart from the swaying of the tall, red-tendrilled stalks. Then his eyes narrow. “Wait—the plants... they’re moving.”
    Although they only appear to be bending with the breeze, Roan can see that the plants are actually mobile. Very slow, like the sea anemones he once read about, but there’s no question they’ve changed their position.
    â€œWeren’t there only a few around here when we came?”
    Lumpy shudders. “They brought friends.”
    Their island is now encircled by the stalks and the pale glow of daybreak reveals that more are on their way.
    One of the stalks closest to the shore suddenly bends over, its tendrils grasping a struggling frog. It’s over in a blink. The bullfrog is still, then gone. As if on cue, the other plants bend over, each scooping up its supper.
    â€œTell me it’s a crazy idea,” says Lumpy, “but could these plants have herded them here?”
    â€œThat would be a pretty complex hunting strategy.”
    â€œHave you ever heard of a plant doing this kind of thing?”
    â€œNope,” says Roan.
    The feeding frenzy goes on. By the time the sun peeks over the horizon, the only surviving bullfrogs are the few that have managed to leap onto a branch out of the tendrils’ reach.
    â€œNatural selection in action,” Roan comments dryly.
    â€œYeah. I’d be fascinated if we weren’t surrounded by a forest of carnivorous plants.”
    Though the vegetation now stands straight and motionless, its relentless carnage is so fresh in Roan and Lumpy’s minds that they remain glued to their spots, staring and waiting.
    â€œThey haven’t fed for a while now,” says Lumpy.
    â€œThey’ve probably all eaten their fill.”
    But the two friends stay safely aloft until all the remaining bullfrogs jump off the island and survive their venture back into the water, undisturbed by the plants.
    â€œAs good a time as any,” says Roan.
    Slowly, they slide down the tree. All remains still. Roan lifts up his pack, which, apart from a bit of slime, seems intact. As they carefully step toward the water, Lumpy instantly lurches backwards. A stalk has swallowed his left hand. He frantically attempts to extricate himself, but within moments his arm is sucked in up to his elbow.
    Slipping his hook-sword from his pack, Roan slices the bulbous head off the plant with one hand while the other pulls Lumpy up and away. Two more plants strike, but by then the friends are huddled against the tree, just barely out of range.
    â€œGuess we’re the second course.”
    â€œAre you okay?”
    â€œI’ll be a lot better once I have this thing off my hand.”
    The neck of the severed stalk gives way easily, but Roan finds removing the sticky tendrils a delicate and painstaking task. Once the last one is detached, Roan sniffs it. A sharp, almost sickeningly sweet scent. Before Lumpy can stop him, Roan tastes it.
    â€œWhat’re you doing?”
    â€œTrying to figure out what it is.”
    â€œWhy—you sure you want to know this thing better?”
    â€œThis