On a very warm, muddy day in the forest of Nowhere, Rachel Springfoot bounded through the trees on

My heart pounded as my feet slammed along the beaten path in the woods. When I was certain I had gained enough ground, I dove under a bush. I began to crawl from the path, the branches tugging on my hair. I smiled as flowers danced across my face.

“You’ll be fine, I’ll go on it with you, it’s not scary. It’s perfectly safe.” Elizabeth stated, as if it was a fact, as we neared the park.

A bush caught her dress, and she had to pick off the thorns that got stuck to it. After that, she comes across a log that is laid across the creek which she would have to climb over to continue her path. This is easier said than done, because one has to keep in mind that she is small, and old. After she successfully made it over the log, her next task was to climb through a barbed-wire fence. "There she had to creep and crawl, spreading her knees and stretching her fingers like a baby trying to climb the steps" (DiYanni). Though the barbed-wire fence is dangerous, she made it through safely. The woods were an obstacle all on its own and she is still not even halfway where she needs to be yet. Just for her carrying on her path after going through the woods shows that she is brave, and that nothing is going to stop

Without a breath of hesitation I make the jump, the leap into the chasm of green maple leaves below. Yes, feeling the air pour through me, gliding through the breeze as though I were a hawk on the hunt, has bequeathed a sense, a feeling I have not felt in quite some time. Even now as I glide onto a high branch in the maple forest, it gets my blood going, in the best way

Bill Bryson the author of the short story ‘A Walk in the Woods' constructs the story in a certain way to try to get the reader to accept his attitudes and values about how dangerous and death defying Earl V. Shaffer and other's are in attempting to travel the trail. He uses the techniques of emotive language, unusual language and use of first hand accounts in the short story ‘A Walk in the Woods‘ . The use of descriptive and humorous language, combined with conversational text has allowed Bryson to express his feelings and opinions on his and others experiences on the Appalachian Trail to the audience. <br><br>The language that the author uses in the short story is very emotive and expressed the feeling which have been felt by others on

Her long brown hair tied back in tight bun and brown dirty dress and matching wool jumper that is two sizes too big. She heads down towards the running creek the bank starting to flatten. Dead trees creating hurdles and the thrones pricing her numb feet. The slug becomes deeper as she get closer to the water. Animals in the night scratching and yelling, light hitting her left shoulder… ‘RUN’. The only way out is the creek and he is getting closer the water reaching her lower back sending shivers up her spine. Wading through the water she sees it. The bag and the world has gone dark again silent and serine she scrambles up the other side of the bank pulling the bag with her. A big oak fallen about 15 Meters away she knows by the unsettling silence he’s not far away. Pulling the bag on her damp back she crawls to the hollow tree and lays down behind it. She holds her breath for what feels like fifteen minutes not moving a single tired muscle in her body. After about half an hour more of twilight and damp forest floor she realises he’s given up. Not for good but defiantly for

It was one of the best Saturday practices during the cross country season: The run to the chapel in the St. John’s woods. It was the end of September, and fall was beginning. The St. John’s woods were cool, colorful, and mysterious. Four girls, all best friends; Brooke, Gina, Abbie, and Kristine were all running together. Kristine was a state runner the past year and was ahead of the rest as always, but not far enough that they couldn’t laugh and tell terrible puns together.

Like all good mothers, the tree is no doubt happy to know that she could help when needed. However more importantly, like the ideal mother she is, the tree seems to understand both the character and limits of her own motherly powers. She knows the very sensibilities she so carefully encouraged when the boy was young would one day cause him to want a life of his own. She knows she must understand and accept the choices the boy makes even when they seem unwise and misguided. She knows she cannot predict or arrange the boy’s future.

“I go up there all the time! I could be your tour guide... if you want, of course.” She said laughing. I didn’t think she was being serious about that, but maybe I should take her up on that offer.

Most days they only ate what they killed or caught and most times it was nothing. Most of you reading this story is wondering why he got the name Tree Man in the first place, well I’m about to tell you. He got the name because when the family didn’t have any food, he would get hungry and start crying and his mother would run him off because she didn’t want to hear him cry. So when he run off, he would go climbs trees and chew on the young leaves of

to this poem for help. It is a beautiful argument that clearly shows that she climbed

The author made Sylvia into a Hero through the climbing of the tree. First the author talks about the call to adventure. Sarah begins the story with, ?Half a mile from home, at the farther edge of the woods, where the land was highest, a

Night was starting to fall as she finally climbed down the whitewashed walls of the landmark. She never missed the feeling of rough stone rubbing against her hands as she grabbed onto cracks, holes, and ledges in order to reach the ground, though she loved to climb. It acted as a somewhat cathartic release from her usual activities. As a child she would climb trees when her parents scolded her then, as she grew older, she started scaling buildings.

I watched with worry in my eyes, hoping she would be able to get me down so we could get out of here. The whimpers coming from my mouth grew louder as pressure was put on my ankle when she tried to take hold of the rope. I knew from trying for the past minutes to climb up the rope that it would be too slippery to get a good hold on. She seemed hopeless for a minute, but then she opened her mouth and crouched down so that her mouth was near the rope. I began to feel more hopeful that we would get out of here when suddenly Sophie stopped what she was doing and began to climb further up into the trees, away from sight. I cried out in distress, my only hope had just left me!

trunks and when they couldn´t reach water or branches they stretched their trunks and then the