• The lantern flickered feebily, but did not die.
    The dull golden glow from the single battery-powered lantern was the only light. The moon was completely blocked by the canopy of branches and leaves that acted as a roof over the still river. Even the rapids seemed to have rested and were only slowly crashing over the smoothe river worn rocks. The bird song had refrained, all signs of life had disappeard hours ago - now deep in sleep, besides the lone owl that cooed softly in the distance.
    It was peaceful, and worrisome, traveling by canoe at the height of the night. The wind whistled quietly now and then through the trees. Every time a new breeze rustled some leaves, my heart quickened, even though I knew that there was nothing there - just rippling water that seemed to have been set to slow-motion, barely carrying the boat but a couple feet a minute. My arms had long been sore, and were clutching the oars tightly - paranoid me.
    Many times I began to drift off, but I managed to catch myself seconds beforehand. I would hardly let myself doze off when danger could be lurking anywhere, ready to pounce the first second I left unaware.
    A small muffled snore uttered from the small child across from me. Abigail rolled over in her place, rocking the boat slightly. I adjusted the wool blanket that had been slowly sliding off her tiny figure. She instantly reacted - her cheeks became the warm rosy pink they usually were and the goosebumps on her pale arms relaxed.
    I remembered the ecstatic look on her face when I agreed to take her. Her strawberry blonde curls looked lighter than ever when she danced around me, and her freckled face glowed so heavenly that I could have sworn she was an angel from God, and her bright blue eyes twinkled more than if she had just been announced a princess.
    I regreted it. Dreadfully.
    It was hard to away from the feeble bodied child that shivered silently beside me that always flooded my mind. Two months of travel had worn that bright girl into a dull, sick, hungry child that was so weak that she could hardly raise her eyelids.
    I had promised that I would take care of her, but I had failed. I wasn't even sure if she could make it for the return trip home. There was nothing that mattered more to me than seeing Abby safe at home again - happy, loved, well cared for, healthy, worry-free.