A young man, who looked only a year or so older than Lennon, slammed his hand over her mouth. He was visibly annoyed and rolled his eyes at her typically girlish response to being frightened. "Here." The tan, dark haired boy tossed a towel towards Lennon. Without hesitation she grabbed the towel. Noting the dampness of the cloth, Lennon pulled the rag to her nostrils and sniffed.
"This smells like fish!" She spoke with disdain but still pressed the cloth to her wounded elbow.
"It's a bait rag." The young man stated matter-of-factly. "It's supposed to smell like fish."
"That's kind of gross." Lennon said while squirming a bit.
"What were you running from?" He asked as his eyes squinted and he scanned the perimeter of the clearing.
"I don't know. Nothing, or maybe something." The girl prattled on making little to no sense to him.
"Are you crazy?" The young man asked, dead serious.
Lennon knew instantly she wanted to be his friend.
