A Little River Crossing

Found myself starin' down a muddy creek with nothin' but slick mossy boulders and a thick hanging vine between me and dry land. Without my flyin' mojo, I had to test the bark the old-fashioned way—givin' the vine a good hard yank before trustin' it with my weight. Swung clean across just as a little prehistoric lizard snapped at my boots, landin' square on the dirt without so much as scuffing my heel. Guess boots made for walkin' work just fine for swingin' too.