Children's Fiction
He passed a note across the counter. THIS IS A BANK ROBBERY. YOU WON'T GET HURT IF YOU DO AS YOU'RE TOLD. I knew what the note said because I had written it.
The skinny dude looked frightened. "I think my boot's stuck," he whimpered.
The bear took another swipe, this time catching the edge of the guy's jeans. They tore easily. The bear grunted deep in his chest. Now the terror stood out on the skinny dude's face.
Holly felt helpless and alone. She was cold and stiff from standing still. The mist closing in was creepy. She peered down the rapidly disappearing track, wondering if she should follow everyone.
"I can't stay here," she mused out loud. "The tide will cut me off." She stepped onto the track.
Her toe kicked a small stone. It rolled before her, black, shiny and perfectly round.
Holly picked it up. It was a bead, a polished jet bead.
Belle hadn't meant to stay so long. It must be after eight o'clock, way past breakfast. How was she going to explain? Suddenly Belle stopped, listening intently as an unfamiliar sound drifted to her on the early morning breeze. Then she recognized what it was. Gunfire! Batoche was under attack!
