An exciting and deeply moving story of survival, courage, and friendship on the Appalachian Trail. Toby has to finish the final thing on The List. It's a list of brave, daring, totally awesome things that he and his best friend, Lucas, planned to do together, and the only item left is to hike the Appalachian Trail. But now Lucas isn't there to do it with him. Toby's determined to hike the trail alone and fulfill their pact, which means dealing with little things -- the blisters, the heat, the hunger -- and the big things -- the bears, the loneliness, and the memories.When a storm comes, Toby finds himself tangled up in someone else's mess: Two boys desperately need his help. But does Toby have any help to give?The Trail is a remarkable story of physical survival and true friendship, about a boy who's determined to forge his own path -- and to survive. Praise for The Trail:"A must-read for anyone looking for a great adventure novel. I could not put it down." -- Roland Smith, author of Peak "The Trail brings Toby's epic hike fully to life. It's a journey that's as much in the heart as on the map, and it's not one you want to miss." -- Michael Northrop, New York Times bestselling author of TombQuest: Book of the Dead"In The Trail, Hashimoto has created an honest and tense tale that reminds us that there's more to survival than just living." -- Eliot Schrefer, two-time National Book Award nominee for Endangered and Threatened Meika Hashimoto grew up on a mountain in Maine. She has traveled the world in search of calm forests and beautiful peaks, and found them a'plenty. When she is not hiking and climbing, she is a children's book editor in New York. Just when I am crouching over the boiling pot, calculating the last nuggets of food in my pack, I hear it. A growl in the shadows.My heart slams into my throat. Bear. I've been so busy thinking about the little things, that I lost sight of the big ones. A bear is a big thing. And not a good one.I am alone, with only a Swiss army knife for protection. And I'm pretty sure a two-inch blade covered in last night's cheese crumbs won't stop much of anything. But I slide the knife out of my back pocket anyway and point it out ahead of me, jabbing at the night. The growl gets louder. It's coming from a choked tangle of bushes fifty feet from my campsite. In the thickening darkness I can't see when it might attack.I think I read somewhere that if you see a black bear, you shouldn't run away or they'll think you're prey. You're supposed to look big and make loud noises. So I stand up slowly. I open my mouth to shout at it.Nothing comes out.I also read somewhere that animals can see and smell fear, which is really too bad because I'm trembling all over and I can feel myself breaking into a cold sweat. Look big, I tell myself again. Be brave. But then my mind empties out and I'm just praying please don't eat me, please don't eat me. Bristling fur. Sharp teeth. Snarling lips. I cry out as it comes hurtling out of the bushes like a burst of crackling gunfire and -- it's a dog. Shaggy faced and flop eared, eyes brave with desperation. Pitch black except for a hollowed-out chest that's so mud-spattered, I can't tell if it's brown or white. A tail bent at the tip, as though someone had tried to snap it in half. It's definitely a mutt. Mangy and starving and as ugly as sin. I can count his ribs.The dog rushes at me but I feel my heart start beating again. I leap back out of his way as he stalks over to my cook site. A swift kick with his hind leg upsets my dinner pot. "Hey!" I shout, but it's too late. Spaghetti and foaming starchy water spill to the ground. The movement was practiced, smooth. This dog has done this before. He grabs a mouthful of scorching noodles and beats it back to the bushes.I have never seen a dog hold boiling food in its mouth. The rest of my fear melts

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