When I look up the girl is gone. The leaves that were quivering the grass that was waving became still. The wind was now still, but looking up the clouds were building on the horizon. A storm was brewing, although that was the least of my present worries. 

I no longer recognized where I was. The town, the road, the field was all gone. And in their place was a forest where trees rose straight from the ground and only branching out 15 feet above the forest floor. It was dark with little light filtering through the dense canopy, the ground was covered with ferns lichen and a spattering of bizarre mushrooms. There was a circle where the canopy had been cleared above my head, the sides were unnaturally sharp as if cut with a great big hole punch.

I was in trouble.

With a storm coming in I would have to find shelter, and on all sides was an unfamiliar forest. With me was my caisson (with my officers saber and my great great grandfather’s Henry rifle), the cannon, and two horses. 

Because of the storm I hurry about getting everything ready. First the horses are drawn into the harnesses and attached to the caisson where the cannon is towed behind. This makes what basically amounts to a bourse drawn four wheeled wagon. 

Taking the reins I lead the way on foot.

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Last chapter I spelled caisson wrong. Nobody pointed it out, so I probably got away with it. From here on out I will “English” wright. ~Hat