Chapter 4“Running away from home?” Tyler’s mom asked late Monday morning, eyeing his backpack, which sat on the kitchen table while he made a couple of sandwiches.
He knew she was teasing. After all this time she was well aware that when he took it with him, it meant he was going somewhere to do sketches for either a new drawing for the gallery or for his book.
“Yep,” he replied without blinking an eye. “I thought I’d start living rough in the mountains.”
“Watch out for bears and wolves, oh, and lions and tigers.”
“Will do.” He winked as he put the sandwiches in the pack, along with a bottle of water. He ran a mental checklist of what he was taking with him—sketchpads, pens, pencils, and his camping lantern. The last was because he was going into the tunnels since their history was an
