Arlo’s Creek Crossing

Arlo held a smooth blue stone in his mouth and stared at the wide creek. Kit was waiting on the other side.

Water slid over pebbles with a cheerful shushing sound. Ferns leaned from the muddy banks, and tall reeds nodded in the breeze. Beyond the creek, Kit stood beside a flat rock.

“Is it the blue one?” Kit called.

Arlo set the stone down on the bank. It was round and cool, the color of a clear pond. He had found it beneath a curled fern that morning and carried it all the way to the creek. Kit collected beautiful stones, and this was the bluest Arlo had ever seen.

“It’s for you!” Arlo called back.

Kit raised both little arms. “I can see it from here!”

Arlo searched for a way across. The creek looked wider than it had from the hill. He took a few steps toward the edge, then stopped. The bank was slick, and the water tugged at a twig as it carried it past.

A grown-up dinosaur was nearby, gathering reeds. Arlo called over, “Could you help me find a safe way to Kit?”

“Of course,” said the grown-up, coming to stand beside him.

While they looked along the bank, Arlo noticed giant footprints pressed into the mud. They ran down toward the water and disappeared beneath the ripples. Their edges were old and rounded. Rain had filled some with little puddles.

Arlo had seen tracks like these before, far from the creek. Long ago, a huge dinosaur had crossed this muddy ground. The mud had dried hard, and layer after layer had covered it. Now the old tracks showed like shallow bowls in the earth.

A dragonfly skimmed above the water. Arlo watched its wings pass over the footprints. Kit waited quietly on the other bank, and the blue stone rested beside Arlo’s toes.

“I’ll find a way,” Arlo said.

The grown-up pointed upstream. “There’s a sturdy footbridge just around that bend. We can cross together.”

Arlo looked once more at the giant prints. The last visible one sat at the edge of the water. Across the creek, another print showed beneath the ripples.

Arlo and the grown-up followed the bank to the footbridge. It was wide and sturdy, with a low rail on each side. The grown-up walked right beside Arlo as they crossed over the flowing water.

From the other bank, Arlo could see the old tracks beneath the ripples. The creek was shallow near the edges, but in the middle it ran over a smooth, muddy hollow. No stepping stones poked above the surface.

“Those prints go all the way across,” Kit said.

Arlo looked again. Some tracks were easy to see on the muddy banks. Others lay under the water, their rims bending the ripples into round shapes. Each print was broad and shallow, like a little muddy bowl.

“They’re amazing,” Arlo said. “But we’ll leave them to the water.”

The grown-up nodded. Arlo, Kit, and the grown-up walked back over the footbridge together. Arlo picked up the blue stone from the dry patch where he had left it, then they all crossed the bridge to Kit’s side again.

This time, Arlo reached Kit without a slip.

“For you,” Arlo said, placing the stone in Kit’s hands.

Kit turned it over. “It’s perfect.”

Kit held the blue stone between both palms. A thin line of water ran down its smooth side and dropped into the grass.

“I’ll keep it where I can see it,” Kit said. “And I’ll remember how we crossed.”

Arlo looked back at the creek. The old footprints made a winding row beneath the water and across the muddy banks. When a breeze brushed the surface, little rings spread from one track to the next.

“Those tracks are like an ancient path,” Arlo said.

“Made before either of us was born,” Kit replied.

They settled on a grassy stretch of bank, with the reeds whispering nearby. Kit placed the stone between them, where the last daylight rested on its blue surface. The creek kept moving, while quiet pools of water gathered in the old footprints.

Arlo pointed to a print on the far side. “That one must have belonged to a very big dinosaur.”

“Maybe the biggest,” Kit said.

“Maybe it had the biggest toes, too.”

They compared their small feet with the giant track. Arlo stretched out his toes. Kit stretched out both feet and wiggled them.

“Not even close,” Kit said.

A few water bugs skated over the creek. Reeds brushed together with a dry, papery whisper. The old track hollows filled slowly, one by one, as the creek slipped into them. The ripples softened, then spread toward the banks.

Arlo leaned against Kit’s shoulder. His legs felt tired in a pleasant way, like they had finished a long walk. Kit tucked the blue stone beside a small pile of other treasures on the flat rock.

“You can visit it whenever you like,” Kit said.

“And next time,” Arlo said, “I’ll look for the footbridge first.”

The creek murmured beside them. Its water traced the shapes of the ancient tracks, while the friends watched little pools catch the moonlight. Soon the reeds stood still, and the two dinosaurs rested side by side on the bank, listening to the water’s low, sleepy song.