This was all Scott had now to remember the greatest adventure of his life, a letter in Varian’s flowing script, and a single photograph, taken using a camera Willaway had put together during one of the infrequent pauses in their journey across the island.

It was a simple enough picture, the five of them and the cat, Sil-El, laughing at some teasing remark Fred had made, although by now Scott couldn’t remember what he’d said. It had been funny at the time though, and looking at the photo made him smile.

The journey had been long and difficult, months of walking across all kinds of terrain, in all kinds of weather, except for snow and ice. There’d been injuries along the way, most of them accidental but a couple the result of their small party being attacked. There’d been times they’d had trouble finding food, or shelter, and they’d often been tired and bedraggled, and yet…

Looking back at those months when he was thirteen, travelling with this mismatched group of people, the struggle was all but forgotten, and what he remembered most was the camaraderie, the support, and the laughter.

He’d never been happier than he’d been back then.


The End