After hours of looking for his son, Francis returned home that evening empty-handed. He had started out that morning sure the boy would turn up somewhere; he would find him at the fishing hole, in the Cranberry marsh, or hiding in his grandma's barn. But The eight-year-old had disappeared a full day ago, and as dusk dropped over the small-town, Francis was feeling defeated. The boy had vanished; he was nowhere to be found.
As the dense shade of night was pulled down on the first day in the Black Ridge forest, Tony looked for a dry comfortable place to sleep. He found shelter under the immense branches of an old Red Oak. There was comfort there as the tree closed around him like a huge shroud and shielded him from the unknown darkness. Feeling safe at last, Tony's biggest concerns were hunger and thirst. He tried to wet his mouth with his own spit, sucking on his cheeks to gather it in the hollow of his tongue and re-swallow it. But that did little more than occupy his mind.
Old Ben would befriend the boy, confiding in him about Mimi, his only family and how she had recently passed away leaving him all alone. In return, Tony told Ben why he was there, and Ben volunteered to help Tony get a turtle, one that would make Francis proud of him. Bens true intentions were not to help the boy.