8. Lana
Lana
The river roared beside us as we made our way back upstream after locating the source of the second smell, following what I hoped were Dustin’s boot prints.
We’d found another dead bear with its paws removed and all the meat left, just like the first one.
It was even fresher than the last one. Toren had been able to see that most of its internal organs were there, but he hadn’t seen the gallbladder.
I hoped that was the last animal we’d find, but I had my doubts.
On shaky legs, I heaved myself over the yoga ball-sized rock in my path, wobbling as I came down the other side.
My muscles were exhausted, and I could feel hotspots forming on my feet, despite my cushy socks and good boots.
Once we stopped for the night, I needed to tend to them.
Thank goodness I remembered to pack the hydrocolloid bandages.
On the plus side, my sore feet might help take my mind off what we found.
I shuddered as the image of the dead bears flitted through my mind. The smell still permeated my nose and wasn’t one I would soon forget.
As we walked, I kept my eyes on the ground, watching for the prints we followed, but despite my aching body, my thoughts kept straying.
What kind of person did something like that? Who hunted an animal just for parts and left the rest to decompose in the forest?
Someone with no regard for life, that’s who.
That thought bothered me. What if Dustin had stumbled across those poachers?
What if he’d seen something he shouldn’t have?
The prints we followed now were laid down around the same time the bears died, according to Toren.
It was entirely possible we’d find Dustin decaying in the forest just like the bears.
No. I pushed the thought away. He could just be injured. Or lost. That happened all the time in the bush. People came in unprepared or they stepped wrong and broke an ankle. Maybe he tumbled into the river and lost his phone, so he couldn’t call for help.
But that didn’t explain the other boot prints following his. Because they were definitely following. Toren was tracking Dustin, but the same prints from where the river forked were continuing along with Dustin’s. Toren thought they were all laid down around the same time.
That thought bothered me as much as the thought of there being people out here who would kill an animal for no other reason than money.
Another giant boulder loomed in our path.
Toren’s long legs ate it up with minimal effort.
I set my foot in a divot and pushed myself up and over.
I would love to hike further inland, but we’d lose Dustin’s trail.
The riverbank wasn’t terrible, but there were a few spots, like here, where any sort of beach eroded and we were left with rocks butting up to the sharp edge of the bank.
It was either climb over the rocks or get wet. I’d rather climb.
Puffing out a breath, I glanced up. The sky had been overcast all morning, but now it was darkening. The wind had picked up as well. That promised weather system was rolling in.
I checked my watch. It was barely noon. Walker said the weather wasn’t supposed to come in until later. He’d been wrong, from the looks of things.
“How much further do you think we should go before we stop for the day?” I asked.
Toren glanced up at the sky, his expression unreadable. “Depends on how much longer those clouds hold.”
Almost on cue, the first drops of rain splatted on my face. “I think they’re done.”
His lips twisted as a scowl darkened his face. “Dammit. I was hoping to follow these tracks longer. The rain’s going to wash them away.”
“We can keep going. It’s not pouring yet.”
“No, but I’m not sure how long it’ll be until that happens. This system’s moving in faster than expected. We need to make camp before we can’t find any dry firewood.” Reaching into his pocket, he took out the satellite phone. “I’m going to let Walker know he can head back to Juneau.”
I bit back a groan. I’d really been hoping we wouldn’t have to spend the night out here. If this weather system turned to snow, it could end up being more than one night.
Tuning out the sound of Toren calling Walker, I picked my way over the rocks, crouching to look at the prints in the sand. How would we ever find Dustin once we didn’t have this trail?
“Lana.”
I glanced back at the sound of my name.
Toren tipped his head toward the forest. “Let’s go.”
As soon as I was on my feet, he veered away from the river, moving toward the forest. I followed, trying to keep up as he picked his way through the trees. The undergrowth was denser here, the canopy thicker. We were well off any sort of trail now.
The rain intensified as we walked, but under the thick tree cover, very little reached us yet. It hadn’t pooled enough to drop off the overhead branches. The temperature had dropped, though. I could see my breath, now.
“Here,” Toren said finally, stopping at a small clearing, about twenty feet in diameter, backed by a rocky outcropping.
The rocks rose about eight feet and curved around, creating a natural windbreak.
There was an overhang as well. It wasn’t a cave—more of an alcove with a roof—but it would provide some cover from the rain and wind.
Pine needles covered the ground beneath it, offering a nice cushion for sleeping.
I shrugged off my pack with a groan of relief.
Toren dropped his bag next to mine and unhooked a thin, rolled pouch from the bottom. “Why don’t you go gather some firewood while I set up the tent? But don’t stray far. Stay within shouting distance.” He opened his bag and pulled out a piece of fabric with handles. “Here.”
I took it, holding it by one handle to deduce what it was. It was a carrying tote for wood. Folding it back up, I tucked it under my arm. “Where do you want me to pile it all?”
“Over there.” He pointed to a spot against the rocks. “It should stay dry back there.”
“Okay. I’ll be back.” Spinning on my booted foot, I traipsed away from the little alcove.
Without my pack, moving across the uneven ground was much easier. Some of the shake disappeared from my legs as I made my way over small boulders. I was glad of that, because the rain was seeping through the canopy now. I needed to fill up this tote before things got too wet.
Luckily, there was plenty to pick from. I ladened the carrying bag down with small-to-medium-sized logs, some twigs, and some handfuls of dead leaves. Once it was so full I could just get the two handles together, I headed back to camp.
I did that three more times before we had a stack that would last all night.
Setting the tote down next to Toren’s things, I grabbed my water and took a healthy drink as I watched Toren spread the rain shield over the tent. Now my back hurt in addition to my sore legs. There was a massage day in my future once I got back to Juneau.
A gust of wind came up, yanking the rain cover from Toren’s grasp.
It flapped in the wind from the spot where he’d already secured it.
I set my bottle down and hurried over to grab it before it could snag on a rock.
It pulled against my grip, sending water showering over me.
Icy tendrils slid down my neck. A quick shiver went through me.
I was ready to start a fire and retreat inside the tent to take off this gear.
Toren snagged the nylon line hanging from one corner. I held onto the fabric while he tied it down. My gloves were soaked.
I looked up at the sky. Hopefully, we could get and keep a fire going. There was enough wind to blow the rain in under the outcropping.
With the rain cover secure, Toren moved over to the stack of firewood and picked up several pieces. He rounded the back of the tent—which I now saw was actually the front. He’d turned it so we faced the rock wall and not the forest.
I hurried around to the other side, where he’d crouched about six feet from the tent and was clearing debris from the forest floor.
“Go grab some twigs and some of that finer stuff you gathered,” he said without looking up.
Eager to get the fire going, I quickly did as he asked, loading my arms up with smaller bits of wood.
I dumped it beside him. “Is that enough?”
He glanced at it. “Should be. Can you get my bag? I need my fire-starting stuff.” Picking up a log, he laid it onto the bare ground he’d exposed.
Spinning around again, I found his bag. Slipping a hand under the shoulder strap, I lifted, but it barely left the ground.
“Holy crap, Toren,” I muttered under my breath.
“I thought my bag was heavy. What did you pack? Rocks?” With both hands, I heaved and managed to lift it and get it over my shoulder.
How did he manage to hike so far with this much weight?
“This thing is heavy.” I dropped it down beside him.
He reached for it, sparing me a quick look. “Not really.”
I huffed. Of course he wouldn’t think it was heavy. To him, it probably wasn’t. He had at least a foot in height and probably close to a hundred pounds in weight on me.
Sparks flew as he scraped the ferro rod over the starter block, sending a small shower of orange into the dead leaves and bits of plant material I’d gathered.
After several strikes, it lit. A wisp of smoke rose from the pile, then a small flame erupted.
Gathering it into his hands, Toren blew on it gently, then stuffed it under the stack of small twigs he made.
Blowing on it some more, it soon caught the larger pile on fire, and he sat back.
Warmth rose, heating the cold skin of my face. I yanked off my wet gloves and held my hands out.
Toren unzipped the tent. “Get in there and take off that wet gear. I’m going to rig up another wind break and keep the fire’s heat from escaping.”
“I’d rather stay out here for now. It’s warmer, even with the wind blowing in. There’s no heat in the tent yet.”
He stared at me for several seconds, then shrugged. “Okay.” Reaching into his bag again, he pulled out a folded tarp, some rope, and some stakes. “How about you heat up some water, then? So we can make lunch.”
“I can do that.” Glad to have something to do—and something that kept me close to our heat source—I dug into my backpack for my cooking supplies. Finding my little pot, my camp stove, and the small bottle of propane to light it with, I set it all up near the fire on a flat rock.
“I have a tripod that collapses, if you want to hang a pot over the fire instead,” Toren said.
“Maybe for dinner tonight. Right now, I just want to get some warm food in us, so we can get dry.” I lit the stove. Pouring water into the pot, I set it on the burner, then dug into my bag for my dehydrated meals, grabbing two.
With everything laid out, I moved into the doorway of the tent, shielding myself from the breeze and the little bit of rain making it into our shelter, and watched Toren work.
By the time he had the windbreak up, the water was boiling, so I scooted forward, cut off the propane, and added the water to the meals.
Toren tossed our bags into the tent, then motioned me inside. Holding both meal packets, I went in, handing him one as he sat down.
“Thanks.” He looked at the pouch, his eyebrows dipping. “Is this one of yours?”
I nodded, digging my utensils out of my backpack.
“You could have grabbed one of mine for me.”
I shrugged. “It’ll all even out eventually, I’m sure.”
“True. Well, thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” Giving my food a stir, I lifted out a bite and blew on it. The slightly processed smell of the food wasn’t enough to keep me from eating it. I was ravenous. And freezing.
The hot food hit my tongue, burning it. I sucked in some air in a reverse blow, trying to cool it down before I chewed up the bits of chicken and rice and swallowed them. It wasn’t the tastiest thing ever, but the warmth sure hit the spot.
“So, what do we do now?” I shifted on the tent floor, wishing I’d spread out my bedroll before sitting down.
The chill from the ground underneath had permeated the thin nylon and my pants, turning my butt to ice.
I shoveled in another bite of food, hoping to counteract the cold seeping through my clothing.
“We finish eating, then I’m calling the Fish and Game warden I know. I want to find out if he knows anything about these poachers. Then we just hang out until the weather calms down.”
“What happened to not wanting to burn daylight?”
He raised one black eyebrow. “The weather wasn’t supposed to move in so fast. Do you want to search in the rain and get soaked?” His eyes tracked over my body. “More soaked.”
I shrugged and ate another bite of my food. “I’m already wet, but my jacket is waterproof, and I brought extra pants and gloves. What’s a few more hours? We made camp, so why not keep walking a little longer and see where the tracks lead before the rain washes them all away?”
That midnight gaze, studying my face, was impossible to read.
“You’re sure you don’t mind being out in the rain?”
“I don’t love it, but I also don’t love the fact that Dustin could be out there injured in it. My minor discomfort at being damp and cold pales to what he could be facing.”
“All right.” Toren scooped the last of his wild rice and beef entrée from the pouch in his hand and stuffed it in his mouth.
Swallowing, he folded the packet and reached for his bag.
“We’ll walk some more. But you’re going to put on those dry gloves and hang your wet ones up. Do you want to change your pants?”
“No.” I took a quick bite of my lunch. “I’m not that wet.” Shoveling in the last of my food, I cleaned off my spork and stuffed it and my trash into my pack. Rising to my feet, happy to be off the cold ground, I picked up my bag and slung it over my shoulders. “Let’s go.”