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Show 157 We walked along the shore, and then decided to climb a nearby hill. It looked small at first but kept extending as we climbed the mossy rocks. The blood was starting to move in my feet again and I was picking up the pace. We climbed all over the hills like they were spiral staircases until we found a view where we could see one of the bison sitting in a miniature valley. Since it was dark, we had to do a triple-take with our flashlights to make sure it wasn't a rock. "Don't bison ran in herds?" I asked. "I think so," Steve said. We moved our flashlights all around, didn't see anything. "Is it alive?" I asked. "I think so," Steve said. "I think I just saw it move. There, see?" I didn't see it moving, though I was sure by now that it was a bison and not a rock, and the sight of it sitting alone in the moonlight was at once eerie, beautiful, and the most depressing thing I had seen in a while. Steve seemed interested in the bison though I was afraid the herd was waiting in the shadows somewhere. He kept his flashlight off, even though I knew he wanted to get a better look at it. We walked around the upper perimeter of that small valley while I listened for more angry bison. I didn't hear anything. We were drank on Antelope Island at four in the morning. When we got to the other side, the bison was still there, though Steve said it had moved. I said, Let's go, and Steve said, Hold on a minute. Let's sit down. I need to rest my feet for a while, which turned into another drink, which turned into an hour, then into another drink, which turned into sunlight and the bison was still there. My feet |