He worked his way awkwardly the rest of the way down to the stream. It all looked familiar from when he'd approached in the canoe, in the dimness unde... the bridge he recognized where he'd splashed and struggled.The path worked along the creek. He guessed it was kept clear by fishermen. Dart crackled and thrashed through the reeds, threatening to tangle the flexi-leash. He reeled her in with annoyance. After a few yards the path ended by the stream. He felt faint, overcome by the memory of her. Buddy was a good guide, and a good boy. Buds through thick and thin were Steve and Buddy bud.Steve was scared when suddenly no way was the right way, and Buddy was scared too by how he pressed against Steve’s side, but good old Buddy got to work, and started to guide Steve again through a suddenly scary world full of noise and terror, screams and slaverings and thuds and thunks which went on and on, but good old Buddy bud led the way safely where ever who knew, and only had to break away to get. More

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