Frederic Remington The Cowboy

Frederic Remington The CowboyThomas Kinkade veniceThomas Kinkade HOMETOWN MEMORIES
as she turned the corner of the path and looked upward, she saw no golden monkey, no patient woman seated at the cave mouth. The place was empty. She ran the last few yards, afraid they had gone forever, but there was the chair the woman sat in, and the cooking equipment, and everything else.
Ama lookedAnd now that golden monkey was squatting in the entrance, sniffing and turning his head this way and that. Ama saw him bare his sharp teeth, and felt her own daemon burrow into her clothes, mouse-formed and trembling. into the darkness farther back in the cave, her heart beating fast. Surely the sleeper hadn't woken already: in the dimness Ama could make out the shape of the sleeping bag, the lighter patch that was the girl's hair, and the curve of her sleeping daemon.She crept a little closer. There was no doubt about it, they had gone out and left the enchanted girl alone.A thought struck Ama like a musical note: suppose she woke her before the woman returned...But she had hardly time to feel the thrill of that idea before she heard sounds on the path outside, and in a shiver of guilt she and her daemon darted behind a ridge of rock at the side of the cave. She shouldn't be here. She was spying. It was wrong.