Damien picked up a rock. Smooth, shiny, round. He stuffed it into his jean pocket. Continued on his way. Cattails lined the dirt path. Mosquitoes and dragonflies flew all around him. He stopped. Another smooth, shiny, round rock was stuffed into his pocket. He continued walking. Puffs of dirt rose with each step. He walked with his head down, eyes searching the earth. He spotted another rock. Stuffed it into his pocket. Then something else caught his eye. Black. Pointy. Buried. He carefully clawed away the dirt. Underneath was a blunted arrowhead. He picked it up and examined it. Stuck it in his pocket. Continued down the well worn path. Out from the cattails hopped Damien's friend, Croak. He hurried to catch his frog friend. He scooped him up and continued, stopping every now and then for a rock. He soon came across the muddy bank. He let Croak go. Walked across the mud to the small creek. Croak croaked loudly and jumped into the creek with a splash. Damien pulled out a rock. Ran in between his fingers. Felt the smoothness on his skin. He flung it hard. Smiled as he watched it hip-hop across the surface. Pulled out another rock. Flung it too. He kept flinging rocks until they were no more to fling. He then started catching and releasing the dragonflies. Catch, release. Catch, release. Catch, release. He soon turned for home. Picked flowers along the way. Face smudged with dirt, he gave them to his mom.