It was that thought of balancing points that had led to Oliver finding logs of an appropriate size, and trimming them down with the hatchet dangling from his belt – he'd brought it with the intention of making a fire, hoping for wisdom in staring into the flames, but he had been distracted by something more unusual in the process.
Now three stakes had been driving into the bed of the stream, at various intervals, making a zig-zagging line across it.
He hopped to the first of them tentatively, almost curiously, without testing the security of the stake first. There was a risk in that which made his heart leap for a second. He grinned when he felt the stake give ever so slightly, but he managed to hold. With even more recklessness, he jumped to the second.
