Chapter 31
Chapter Thirty-One
Peyton
Peyton managed to sleep a little. He didn’t hear the chopper return or any other vehicles.
Just the wind, the rain, the normal noises of the animals, and the land.
He waited until late in the day to cautiously emerge from his den and make his way, still shifted, to the top of the closest hill, where he thought he might have some sort of vantage point.
Fortunately, it had finally stopped raining, and while there were still a few patchy clouds nearby, the skies had cleared.
Around him looked to be miles of wilderness, most of it thick forest. In the distance, more hills, cleared area that might be pasture or farmland, but not even a cell tower was visible anywhere on the horizon.
Fuck.
On the other hand, he also didn’t spot any pursuers, so there was that.
And at least his instinct that he’d been heading westerly was mostly accurate. From what he could tell based on the position of the sun and the shadows, if he continued following this route it’d take him more southwest than he’d originally thought.
The wind had stilled, but Peyton lifted his nose and sniffed.
Nothing unexpected.
Not even the hint of a highway anywhere close by.
He returned to his hideout, his stomach growling.
He needed to eat, and soon. He wasn’t fond of hunting wild animals for his meals, but he was even less fond of starvation.
Since there was no way he could take down a larger animal by himself—especially in his current condition—he started sniffing around the rocks and vegetation near his hiding spot.
Then he remembered the wolves.
He shifted into human form, rebundled his clothes and shoes, and then shifted back, carrying the bundle in his mouth.
It was awkward, but while carrying it he could move faster on four legs than two.
Wouldn’t be an advantage against aircraft if he were trying to run fast over flat, open ground, but if a human showed up and the wolves were still guarding their kill, it might not go well for him.
Fortunately, the wolves had moved on, but the remnants of the carcass remained, currently being picked over by two ravens.
There was very little left. Still, he nosed in and managed to find a few bites here and there.
After he took in as much as he could stomach, which wasn’t a lot, he stayed shifted, ran down to the small stream, drank as much as he dared, then did the best he could to wash the gore and stench off of himself, shaking his fur.
When he returned to his clothes, the ravens were back on the carcass but warily eyeing him.
He shifted into human form and the startled birds squawked, taking off in a noisy flap of wings.
“Yeah, sorry,” he called out. “It’s all yours now, guys.”
He wrinkled his nose at the ripening carcass. At least as a wolf it hadn’t offended his human side. He could only imagine what he would smell like if he didn’t get out of there soon.
Dressing quickly, he departed as the light dimmed and shadows lengthened among the trees.
At least the large moon would help him see better. It wasn’t quite dark yet when he stumbled across a large patch of berry bushes. While many of them didn’t look ripe yet, plenty of them were.
“Can I be this lucky?” he asked out loud.
Peyton picked a ripe-looking one and pierced it with his thumbnail to look at the flesh inside.
“Fuck yeah! Bilberries!” He popped it into his mouth. It tasted pleasantly tart, similar to a blueberry. He picked as many of them as he could, eating others, mindful not to gorge himself on them and make himself sick.
That’d be irony, to survive and escape just to kill myself with dysentery from wild berries.
Stopping himself before eating too many, he pulled off both his socks, filled them with berries, tied the ends together, and looped them around his belt to carry them while keeping his hands free.
Well, it wasn’t exactly haute couture, but he hoped it’d keep him from having to dine on rats or carcasses for another day.
He hiked throughout most of the night, lucking out that the skies stayed clear enough for him to easily pick his path in the moonlight.
He also passed more bilberry bushes and snacked when he did.
Water was a bigger concern for him, but fortunately he was able to find plenty of clean-tasting rivulets and little streams to slake his thirst.
Not long before daylight, he topped another rise, shimmied up a tree, and looked around.
Nothing. Well, lots of things, but nothing human. No cell tower lights, no indications of traffic, no lights in houses—nothing. Just miles and miles of dark land—mostly wooded, a few natural glades here and there. Nothing resembling pasture or farmland.
Shit.
He found himself a dip between two large trees where a third had fallen and created a natural den. Stripping, he spread his clothes out on the fallen tree and then shifted and crawled into the hole. He didn’t want to sleep all day, but between his hunger and exhaustion, he needed the rest.
Peyton startled awake at some point, lifting his head. Nearby, a ground squirrel was creeping up, no doubt drawn by his berry-filled socks. When he let out a low warning growl, the rodent turned and scampered.
Well, that’s not the wake-up call I ordered.
He climbed out of his den and stretched, shaking himself. He thought the sun was past its zenith, but it didn’t look like he’d slept too late into the afternoon. After shifting back and relieving himself, he washed up in a nearby stream and dressed.
At least it wasn’t ungodly hot—or ball-shivering cold—and it didn’t feel like rain in the immediate forecast. Orienting himself with tree shadows, he set off once more.
It was difficult not to think about home, Gillian and Adair, and how sick with worry Gillian had to be.
I hope Ken can keep Dewi reined in.
The last thing he wanted was for anyone to come after him.
He’d already revised his plan in his head.
Instead of finding a population center—in this stretch of nothingness the chances of that were somewhere between zilch and nada—he’d find someone.
There had to be farmers. When he found people, he’d shift and watch, stay hidden until he could approach one of them and then overtake them with his Prime powers to get information.
Maybe steal a phone and a vehicle. At least get some directions out of there.
And some damned food, because the berries were starting to give him the trots.
He felt reasonably certain he wasn’t anywhere close to where he was abducted. The terrain around Bod? looked nothing like this.
As the elevation slowly dropped, Peyton remained on the path of least resistance, figuring that eventually he’d stumble across a larger stream or river he could follow and hopefully find people. Or maybe a boat he could commandeer.
He spent the remainder of the day hiking, occasionally chiding himself for letting his mind drift as he walked. He didn’t do all of this just to get recaptured because he was daydreaming about a steak.
Or about taking a long, hot shower with Gillian and making love to her.
His luck with the weather lasted until dusk, when the sky turned overcast and thickening mist increasingly reduced his visibility.
The wind died down as daylight waned, but that meant the mist coalesced until even he could barely see more than fifteen feet in front of him.
And the cloud cover meant he wasn’t able to take advantage of moonlight.
Goddammit.
He tried to press on, but the ground started to rise again and he kept encountering obstacles like rocky ravines or sharply ascending rock walls that he didn’t want to risk for fear of hurting himself.
He also thought he was hearing things, like the occasional animal noise, perhaps dislodging a rock, but he also knew mist and fog could play hell with acoustics.
Especially so when he was completely unfamiliar with the land.
The other disconcerting development was that he occasionally smelled…something odd. Not a fresh scent, and no discernible tracks he could pick out on the rocky ground.
It was too degraded for him to tell for certain if it was animal or human, but he had come across various animal scents throughout the day.
Maybe it’s time for me to find a hole for the night and wait until morning.
He was just about to do that when he heard another noise, behind him, like a pebble bouncing off rocks.
Fighting the urge to call out, he held his breath and slowly turned, his ears tuned, nostrils flaring.
He also picked up a couple of good-sized stones from the ground.
It’d been years since he’d pitched baseball in high school, but he knew from playing with Trent’s kids that he still had pretty good aim.
He sensed…something.
A presence.
Whatever it was stayed out of range, and the still air meant he had no clue if it was up- or downwind of him.
Moving slowly, he kept his steps light and deliberate, avoiding loose stones as best he could in an attempt to put distance between him and whatever “it” was. He was starting to think large animal, possibly even a non-canine predator, because a creeping feeling of being stalked began to set in.
Then he remembered the carcass he’d snacked on, and if that scent remained on him he might be laying a clear trail for a large predator to hunt him.
Besides, if it were his captors, they would have likely rushed in and tranqued him again.
They had a helicopter—it was also likely they had night-vision goggles or thermal cameras that’d let them see him.
But even with his wolf senses he was currently disadvantaged in both sight and hearing.
If it were an innocent civilian, whether a leisure hiker or hunter or someone searching for lost livestock, they might not realize he was a human and they were trying to conceal their presence.
Without a clue where he was, he didn’t dare speak English.
After another ten minutes of this and with the mist beginning to swirl with the hints of a soft breeze kicking up, Peyton finally had enough. He opted to make a very loud, obviously human cough.
When he did, not far ahead of him he heard another noise, like rock on rock.
And when he cocked his head and froze in an attempt to zero in on the source, pain slammed into the back of his skull, turning his world black.
Again.