The thought that eyes might be watching me, that a camera might be looking down from overhead makes me as tense as a guitar string about to be plucked. I close my eyes tight against that thought and I clench my fists. I’m not just scared; I’m also angry and frustrated. How am I ever going to fall asleep? Suddenly the covers are whisked away from me. I jump up with a yell. I’m ready to resist however I can. I’ll kick and bite and scratch. Even though my so-called uncle is bigger than I am, I won’t give up without a fight. I blink my eyes, trying to bring the shadowy world into focus, step back with my hands still held up…and bump into something big and hard and rough. I spin around and find myself face-to-face with the trunk of a giant tree. A tree? How did a tree get into the room? And, for that matter, where has the room gone? “Little Sister,” says a voice from behind me. It is not a human voice. Yet it is a voice I welcome. I know who it is even before I turn around. As I do, I realize that I’m back in deerskin clothing with moccasins made of thick moose hide.
