Whatever was happening, Sherman figured that he and Smitty were on their own for now. He wasn't sure where to go, but he needed to find Gramps.

And that required someplace out of the rain so that he could use the computer.

He could follow behind his family and watch them until he figured out where they might be headed. That would let him get Gramps to help them later.

Sherman couldn't hear anything they were saying. Everyone just walked along the stream. He tried to stay in the taller grass and near the woods when possible. The mud made walking more difficult, but he was smaller than the adults, so he didn't tire as quickly.

He followed them for a few miles until they reached a bridge underwater. They crossed the road and kept on.

They were climbing away from the river. By now, the water from the dam would have reached the town. The church steeple wouldn't peek out through the trees after this. The water tower next to the school would only be next to something if the school or tower were even there after today.

Sherman’s stomach growled. It had been a while since breakfast. They had passed a few houses, but he couldn't go in without drawing attention to himself or losing sight of them. Smitty would also need to eat sooner or later, but that’s what rabbits were for.

Perhaps there would be a garden with something he could pick. That would fill his stomach and let him keep his eyes on the party.

A sound came from near the stream. The grass parted, and a wild hog ran in front of him.

Sherman’s stomach churned.

“Oh, shit,” he said under his breath.

Smitty growled.

Wild hogs were bad business.

Hopefully, the hog would keep running. The group ahead might notice a fight. If he crouched down, he would make a smaller target.

The hog stopped and looked at Sherman and Smitty.

Or he could climb a tree. A few were hanging over the stream.

Smitty growled again.

Two against one, but the hog had vicious teeth and attitude on its side.

Sherman added his attempt at a growl to Smitty’s growl. The hog knew they were there, so a little show of anger wouldn’t make things any worse.

Smitty and the hog postured, lowering their heads.

The hog pawed the ground and shook.

Smitty crouched down and kept growling deep in his throat.

Perhaps the roar of the water would drown out anything. Besides, the adults were getting farther away every minute he and Smitty dealt with the hog.

“Come on,” Sherman said to himself. “Get away.”

He raised his voice a bit.

“Go! Run! Scoot!”

The group ahead disappeared around a bunch of trees. They were leaving the river valley and climbing into the hills. It would be harder to keep up with the group but easier to hide.

The hog stood its ground, as did Smitty. Neither wanted to back down, but neither wanted to get in a fight either.

Sherman looked around for some rocks. If the stream weren’t swollen, there'd be plenty within reach.

Perhaps a branch from a tree, if it was easy to get. He couldn't break anything off the tree if it weren't already coming down, and if it was already falling, it wouldn’t be any good, but there wasn’t anything better.

He spotted a branch that had fallen recently in a storm. It wasn't too big. He could hold it, but barely. The rough bark bit into his hands. Swinging it was going to be difficult.

But he managed to bring it around to the hog. The combination of shouting, growling, and poking it with the stick might make it go away.

Instead, the hog charged at him.

Smitty jumped for the throat in a blur and knocked the hog aside, away from Sherman.

He dropped the stick and turned to see Smitty and the hog tearing into each other.

He stood there, unsure what to do.

As it became clear that Smitty was keeping the hog away from him, Sherman looked for a tree he could climb. He didn't think hogs could climb trees. He might be safe until the fight ended and either the hog was dead or wandered off. He'd have a lot of catching up to do to get to his parents, but he couldn’t catch up if he was hurt or, worse, dead.

He looked for a tree that slanted over the water and was strong enough to hold him.

He couldn't tell if Smitty was winning or not.

The ground was wet.

Blood was flying everywhere. The rain couldn't wash it away.

Smitty’s hair was matted. An ear was missing or lost in the confusion of fur and blood and mud.

The hog wasn't doing much better. It had skin torn on a leg, and one eye was puffy.