Alone in the Wild Read online

  Contents

  * * *

  Title Page

  Contents

  Copyright

  Map of the Oregon Trail

  South Pass, Wyoming: June 19, 1849

  The Journey West

  Page 10

  Page 18

  Page 23

  Page 24

  Page 27

  Page 29

  Page 31

  Page 33

  Page 36

  Page 40

  Page 42

  Page 44

  Page 46

  Page 51

  Page 56

  Page 58

  Page 60

  Page 62

  Page 67

  Page 73

  Page 76

  Page 81

  Page 83

  Page 85

  Page 87

  Page 89

  Page 94

  Page 96

  Page 98

  Page 99

  Page 103

  Page 105

  Page 108

  Page 111

  Page 115

  Page 118

  Page 125

  Page 128

  Page 131

  Page 135

  Page 138

  Page 143

  Guide to the Trail

  Dangers!

  Finding Your Way

  Sample Chapter from THE WAGON TRAIN TREK

  Buy the Book

  Read More from the Oregon Trail Series

  Connect with HMH on Social Media

  Copyright © 2019 HMH IP Company Unlimited Company. THE OREGON TRAIL and associated logos and design are trademarks of HMH IP Company Unlimited Company.

  All rights reserved. For information about permission to reproduce selections from this book, write to [email protected] or to Permissions, Houghton Mifflin Harcourt Publishing Company, 3 Park Avenue, 19th Floor, New York, New York 10016.

  hmhbooks.com

  The display text was set in Pixel-Western, Press Start 2P, and Slim Thin Pixelettes.

  Illustrations and cover art by Gustavo Viselner

  Cover art © 2019 by Houghton Mifflin Harcourt

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available.

  ISBN: 978-1-328-62716-2 paper over board

  ISBN: 978-1-328-62717-9 paperback

  eISBN 978-0-358-05593-8

  v1.0219

  The Journey West

  It’s 1849, and you and your family are settlers on the journey of a lifetime on the Oregon Trail. So far, the trip has been filled with challenges: runaway oxen, bandits, illness, dangerous wildlife, broken wagon parts, and more. You’re lucky you’ve all made it to South Pass, Wyoming—your halfway point.

  As you continue on your trek West, you’ll face even more dangers such as starvation, sickness, frostbite, and bad weather. It will take all your grit and smarts to make it to your destination—Oregon City.

  Beware! Only one path will get you there safely. There are twenty possible endings, full of challenges, twists and turns, and incredible discoveries.

  You come across a hungry pack of wolves—what do you do?

  You’re lost alone in the woods—how do you survive?

  Look out! Avalanche! Where can you go?

  Your choices might send you somewhere unexpected or land you in harmful situations. Or even worse—you might not survive the journey!

  Be prepared! Before you start, be sure to read the Guide to the Trail on page 148. It will help you survive in the wilderness and make better decisions.

  Along the Trail, you might run into other travelers, guides, or Native American peoples such as the Shoshone and Tenino Nations, who may provide advice, assistance, and friendship. At other times, you’ll have to trust your gut to make the right decisions.

  It’s up to you!

  What will you choose?

  Ready?

  LET’S FORGE A PATH TO

  OREGON CITY!

  You have more than 1,000 miles until you reach Oregon City—or at least that’s what you think. Your wagon train captain, Buck Sanders, lost your only map about a month ago when he discarded supplies from the wagons to lighten their load.

  Since Buck lost the map, you’ve all been relying on the kindness of strangers, trail guides, and the position of the sun to find your way West. The oxen in your ten-wagon train are getting more exhausted by the minute on a trail lined with cast-iron skillets and extra wagon parts. Luckily, you’ve stayed calm and stuck to the Trail.

  Today, your wagon is corralled by Little Wind River. Clear skies and sunshine have you and your wagon train in great spirits.

  Mama yells over to you. “We’re going to ford that river soon. Let’s caulk our wagon before sundown.”

  “Anne,” Pa calls to Mama. “Don’t work our sweet child too hard—I’ll need help preparing our meal soon.”

  “Well, well, well.” Buck Sanders approaches your wagon. His overgrown handlebar mustache covers his mouth. “I see the Winters family is doin’ especially well today. I am goin’ ’round and tellin’ folks that we will camp here tonight, get some rest, and get movin’ first thing in the morn’. And, uh, please keep an eye on that dog of yours. He’s gettin’ into other people’s business.”

  “Snap!” You whistle to your lovable dog. “Here, boy!”

  “Buck”—Mama’s face screws up—“the sky is clear and the weather is great. Let’s cross the Little Wind River today. We’re working hard to get all of the wagons caulked and we still have five hours of sunlight left in the day.”

  “Anne.” Buck smiles and tugs on his mustache. “The other folks are exhausted. Not as strong as y’all three, I guess.” Buck whistles to the larger wagon train. “Let’s get these wagons circled up!”

  As Buck walks away, Mama takes Pa aside. “John, I knew we couldn’t trust Buck as wagon train captain. He has no experience, and I can’t believe he lost the map—the only map we had!”

  Pa calms Mama. “There’s nothing we can do now, Anne, save for peeling off from the group, which is not smart or safe. Let’s just get our chores done and rest up for tomorrow so we’re fresh for the river crossing.”

  Mama gives him a hug and then you both help Pa finish making dinner—a ration of bacon and steamed dandelions with fresh venison. You’re thankful Pa hunted a deer last night. Supplies are running lower than predicted, so your family is measuring out food—it’s got to last for the rest of your trip. Stopping at general stores and trading posts are viable options, but not always available, and you don’t have a lot of money with you. Plus, with an unreliable wagon train captain and no map, who knows if you’ll pass any of the trading posts or forts. You’ve all worked hard to gather a lot of berries and various edible plants along the way while other folks in your wagon train have been more successful in hunting deer and rabbits. They’ve shared with you so far, but there’s no guarantee that their generosity will continue.

  Rest up, the next leg of the journey is a calamity!

  * * *

  You wake to a loud whistle and a crack of thunder.

  Buck Sanders is running around your corral circle in a frenzy. “We gotta go now! ’Fore the river swells too high, ya hear?”

  “In the middle of the night, Buck?” Pa protests. “It’s not even midnight. The fire embers are still smoldering from when I put it out two hours ago.”

  “Now is the time!” Buck yells as the sky starts to spit. “The clouds are rollin’ in against the moon. We’ve gotta move!”

  Your family could stay behind, but without a map and the protection of a wagon train, you’d have no chance. You follow everyone and roll into the dark.

  Your wagon is last to launch into the river. “It floats!” you yell to Mama. She smiles
by the lantern light, proud of your good work. Snap sits next to her, anxiously whimpering.

  Lightning strikes!

  Torrential rain pours out of the sky and floods the river. Wild rapids develop over rocks. Your wagon isn’t built for this.

  You paddle faster with handmade oars you’ve carved from broken tree branches. You knew they’d come in handy.

  When you’re halfway across the river, fear fills Mama’s face. Then it happens. In a flash, you are tossed into the rushing black water.

  “Overboard!” she screams to Pa, but he is almost across the river, leading the oxen.

  Ice-cold water shocks you. It fills your mouth as you bob up and down. Swimming against the powerful river current is nearly impossible in your drenched, heavy clothes. Your arm muscles tire against the force of the water. You muster up as much strength as you can and grab a wagon wheel spoke, but your grip weakens. You scream to Mama as she holds her hand out. But just as you reach toward her, river water washes over you. Snap yelps and falls into the careening waves. The current is stronger than your grip on the wagon wheel. It takes you under.

  * * *

  You wake coughing up water on the riverbank. You look around. The sun is peeking through the trees in the west. You see no wagons, no animals—no Snap—no one around you. No Mama. No Pa.

  You’re alone. You have no support and no food, and you are lost. You were half awake when your family got the call to ford the river—with only seconds to throw on your clothes and slip a few things into your pockets. How far downriver did the water carry you? There is no one around for miles and miles. There’s no time to waste. You’ll have to use your survival skills to find your wagon train as soon as possible.

  Your head pounds. Thunder rumbles in the gray clouds. As you slowly stand up, dirt and leaves fall off your wet clothes.

  Panic takes over you for a split second. But panicking isn’t an option.

  You wipe your face and look around. No family. No wagons. No oxen. No one and nothing in sight. Judging by the light, it’s mid-to-late afternoon, though it’s hard to tell with the overcast weather. You sit down on a flat rock and try to piece together what happened.

  The storm. Mama. The river. It all comes back to you. You remember you’re close to South Pass, Wyoming—the easiest way to cross through the treacherous Rocky Mountains. Then, you remember Snap. You hope everyone made it out of the river.

  “Mama!” You put your hands to your mouth. “Snap! Mama! Pa! Where are you? Can anybody hear me?” Your hoarse voice is weak. In the distance, lightning charges the sky. Another storm.

  You shiver and wrap your arms around yourself. Your hair and clothes are still damp. You need to find dry clothes—and your family.

  “Hello? Hello, can anyone hear me?” You hear the echo of your own voice.

  No response.

  You swallow. Your throat is sore. Stay calm. You hope camp is close. Your stomach grumbles. You spot a few dandelions nearby. You know from listening to one of your wagon train guides that in the most dire of circumstances, the flowers can be eaten. You pick several dandelions and stuff them into your mouth. They’re nutty and bitter in flavor and taste better than you expected.

  You have to keep moving.

  You start walking, calling for Mama, for Snap, every few minutes. You follow the rushing river upstream, stepping through bushes. The mud pushes through your soaked boots, making every step heavier and heavier. You hope you’re going the right way.

  * * *

  After you’ve followed the river for an hour or two, nothing looks familiar.

  A loud boom of thunder startles you. You bite your lip and brace yourself. If you can’t find your wagon train, you’ll have to start looking for shelter. It’s getting dark.

  Your hope wanes, but then you see something familiar: an oddly shaped rock in the distance, Lizard Head Peak. It was your wagon train’s North Star on the trek here. You recognize the surrounding area. Your spirits lift, and despite your exhausted body, you pick up your feet and break into a slow jog. You’re so close—you have a good feeling.

  “Pa? Mama? Snap! I’m here! I’m all right!”

  Faster and faster you weave your way through the brush along the riverbank and down into the nook where your wagon train had set up camp before crossing the river. You finally push through a thick grove of trees, step out into the clearing, and look to the other side of the river.

  No one.

  Nothing.

  No evidence of your wagon train or your family. They’re gone.

  You blink, not believing your eyes. In a daze, you stumble, staring at the blackened circle of rocks and ash that once was your campfire.

  You scan the horizon, your heart pounding rapidly. You can’t even find footprints or wheel ruts in the mud. The heavy rains have washed away any trace of your wagon train.

  You feel a new rush of panic. You have no idea if your family made it across the wild river or if they, too, were swept down the river like you.

  An owl hoots nearby, and you jump. Darkness settles in. Should you continue to search for your wagon train, or set up your own camp and make a fire?

  To search for your wagon train, turn to page 115

  To make a fire, turn to page 138

  You decide to put your limbs closer to the fire. You want to listen to Tatsa, but you’re so cold that you can hardly breathe. More than that, you can’t contain your growing panic about your numb hands and feet. You need to know that they will regain feeling—and soon. A little warmth couldn’t hurt.

  You inch closer to the fire and stick your hands and feet near the edge of the flames. Minutes pass. To your alarm, nothing happens. Your shaking has gotten worse. You wiggle even closer. A gust whips the fire toward you, igniting your feet in a spreading flame. You shriek and stamp out the flames, but your feet have been badly burned.

  You never make it out of these snowy mountains.

   THE END

  Return to page 73

  You decide to get to higher ground. You won’t be near the river, but maybe if you climb high enough, you’ll be able to get a better vantage point and maybe even spot a flag flying above Fort Hall in the distance. Lizard Head Peak is no longer in sight. You’re not sure how far you’ve traveled in these mountains, but you know that you have a long way to go.

  With Snap trotting at your side, you begin trekking to higher ground. The terrain grows rockier and steeper by the minute. You have to stop constantly to let Snap catch up to you, or carry him yourself. It’s a more treacherous route than you’d anticipated—you almost slip and fall several times.

  As the afternoon wears on into evening, you try to find your way around the sharper cliffs and steeper inclines. Finally you reach a tall boulder, wipe your brow, and look around. You see nothing but mountains for miles and miles. What’s worse, it looks like the path to the northwest—the way you need to travel—only gets more challenging.

  You plop down onto the boulder, watching the sun sink into the mountains. You have to keep going.

  “C’mon, Snap.” You slide off the boulder and start toward a patch of trees to build a shelter and rest for the night. You eat some of the dried rabbit meat left over from earlier, but there’s hardly enough for both you and Snap.

  The next morning, you come across a grassy nook full of flowers you’ve never seen before. Maybe some of them are edible. It would be a huge risk—some plants are poisonous—but you know you need to eat. Should you try to eat the flowers, or keep looking?

  To eat the flowers, turn to page 31

  To keep looking, turn to page 125

  Return to page 99

  It’s better to keep the fire going all night. That way, you’ll be warm until the morning, and it will ward off any predators. Your clothes are still drying by the fire. At this point, it’s too dark to build a shelter to protect you from the elements.

  Dizzy from exhaustion, you hurry to find several large sticks and add them one by one to the fire. When the flame
s are roaring and crackling, reaching up nearly three feet into the air, you curl up nearby. Finally, the heat wraps you up like a blanket.

  Maybe someone will see the smoke from the fire and come to rescue you. You fall asleep, lulled by the sound of the crackling flames.

  Minutes later, you burst awake, coughing violently. Smoke fills your lungs. You bolt upright. There’s smoke in your eyes, making you tear up. Forest fire! Sparks from your campfire caught onto branches overhead, and now the landscape around you is burning.

  You stumble through the smoke and flame-filled woods, ash and embers falling all around you. You can’t breathe. You won’t make it out of this forest, never mind getting all the way to Oregon City.

   THE END

  Return to page 115

  You run, but the wolves surround you, their fangs bared and gleaming, their ears curled back against their heads. They’re twice as big as you are!

  It’s probably better to face the wolves down, to stare them in the eyes to show them you’re not afraid. But as they draw closer, terror overwhelms you. You turn and bolt into the woods. You trip and scramble to pick yourself back up. You smell their stinky breath. One of them snaps at your ankles.

  Just as all hope seems lost, you find a tall rock formation. You swing yourself up and climb onto the rocks, just as one wolf lunges for you. The wolves surround the rocks, growling, until they finally retreat into the woods.