Chapter 14
Fourteen
The only positive thing about being an adult is being fairly certain there is no monster under the bed. Hopefully.
—Constance to Odin
Constance
I dropped Wendy off at school quite a bit later than I intended, then went home to grab a distraction.
That distraction being Possum.
At least when I had Possum with me, I wouldn’t dwell on what had almost happened earlier.
At least, not the entire time.
My mom eyed me as I came into the rehab facility, half her attention on me, and the other half on the wolf juvenile she was trying to get to eat a chunk of meat.
I waved her off, knowing she was worried about me after I’d called her to tell her what happened earlier.
My dad met me by the car as I parked.
“You okay?” he asked.
I nodded.
This wasn’t the first time I’d been attacked by an animal.
Hell, it wasn’t even the tenth.
It wouldn’t be the last, either.
That’s what happened when you lived in an animal rehab facility.
Animals were unpredictable. Animalistic beings acting on what was in their nature, and if that was attack, then that’s what they did.
I just hadn’t been expecting to be attacked in the middle of town after getting donuts…
“I’m fine,” I sighed. “I feel worse for Wendy. She was terrified. Clinging to me and not understanding what I needed to do. Luckily, all her teachings here worked out well, and she listened immediately, took off to safety. The doctor that I’ve been telling you about was in town eating at Hopps.
He was able to get her inside before he came to help. ”
“Jan from your mom’s sewing circle sent her a video,” he said. “It’s shaky at best, but you can see what happened. You’re lucky that man knew what to do.”
I knew that.
I also knew that my mother was going to grill me on situational awareness again when I got home.
She was always drilling that into me.
Again, you had to when you worked with wild animals.
Not to mention, wild animals in containment facilities drew other wild animals not in containment facilities. It wasn’t abnormal to go outside and see wolves in the front yard investigating. Or elk.
Or bears.
Hell, even other raptors came to check out the area.
“I know.” I sighed. “Do you think you can pick up Wendy from school? I’m getting a later start than I intended. And I have to get some photos taken, or I’ll be late on my project.”
I contracted for a natural wildlife magazine that expected new photos every month from the region I was in. Usually, I had them turned in by this time of the month.
“Of course,” he said. “Be careful. Make sure you turn on your GPS locator, too.”
I nodded.
My mom and dad took hiking very seriously.
They’d taught me to always be cautious and always have a line to the “outside world.”
My mom had been stuck on the side of a mountain for a week before Dad had found her.
She’d gone out on a solo hike, bound and determined to “live off the land.” Though she hadn’t meant to live off the land quite like she had been forced to.
A storm had surged in, forcing her to take shelter.
That shelter had then swept away her bag, her phone, and anything else she could’ve used to help guide her home.
Forcibly making her stay still until rescue had arrived in the form of my papa bear dad pissed off that his mama bear had been missing.
From then on, they’d been super cautious and always prepared.
It was easier to agree than argue.
Plus, I had a kid to think about.
I knew that my parents would take care of her if I wasn’t here, but still, it was better to be safe than sorry.
A short, sharp whistle and Possum flew to me from wherever he happened to have been .
He landed on my arm, and I smiled when he eyed me with his bright, raptor eyes.
“You want to go on an adventure?”
“Be careful,” Dad ordered for a second time.
I gave him a thumbs-up, got Possum’s curtain rod set up in my cargo area, and headed to the trailhead I would be taking for the day.
After sending several messages on where I’d started to my parents, I set Possum free and started my hike, breathing easy for the first time in a couple of hours.
There was nothing better than spending time in nature.
Alabama was nice and all, but we didn’t have views.
There were a bunch of trees, some hills, and that was about it.
Here there were mountains, and hills, rocks and…snow.
Dammit.
I forgot about the snow.
I turned around to see how far I was away from the trailhead entrance and grimaced.
I was a good half a mile…
I turned around and went for my jacket.
Possum gave a mournful cry that he had to turn around, and I just smiled.
When I got back to the car, I grabbed my jacket and threw it on.
Possum landed on a nearby tree, and I resituated my camera and headed back out to the trailhead.
Possum took off with a flap of wings and wind, giving a shrill cry before disappearing above me.
I walked with my eyes peeled, my bear spray in easy reach thanks to a couple of hikers I’d met early on in my move here. They’d told me all about the rabid bear attack that a woman had been through, and it’d worried me enough that I kept the spray in easy reach now.
Not that it hadn’t been within easy reach before, but now it was right by my hand just in case.
I saw Possum quite a bit over the next half hour of my hike. He’d appear above me, between clouds and tree branches, coming in tight to make sure I was still close.
I’d just topped a massive rock when I spotted the river down below.
My smile went wide when I spotted a mother bear and her cubs.
There were four of them in total, playing in the river while their mother hunted behind them.
I took a seat on the rock and got my camera out, along with my tripod.
Keeping an ear out in my immediate surroundings, I started snapping away at the bear cubs having the time of their life.
The snow got heavier about ten minutes into the photoshoot, and the pictures started getting tricky.
They’d probably be pretty darn cool, though.
Ears and hands freezing and satisfied that I’d gotten a good couple of photos, I started back up the trail, smiling when I spotted Possum on the tree branch right above my head.
“Are you getting hungry?” I asked him.
He chirped at me.
I pulled out one of the dead fish that my father had slipped me on the way out and tossed it into the air.
Possum caught it, swooping down almost to the ground before rising back up and taking it somewhere that I couldn’t see to eat.
I walked for another hour or so, spotting several mule deer, a bull moose, and a bighorn sheep.
The moose would be a favorite, I knew.
I was close enough that I could capture some good shots, and the snow gathering on his back was so pretty.
Plus, his eyes had been directed right at me.
He hadn’t been amused, and I’d decided to leave before he got any more curious as to why I was there.
I was mostly in the woods when I heard rocks sliding, indicating that someone was coming down the trail.
“She has to be here somewhere.”
I froze, my camera tucked close to my chest.
“Her car’s still here.”
My stomach soured at the man’s words.
“I’ve walked this trail back and forth twice now. I haven’t seen her,” the man said, frustration clear in his tone.
I scanned the trees, making sure that I couldn’t see him, which meant he couldn’t see me.
“No, damn.”
He must be on the phone.
“I’ve looked everywhere,” the man replied. “She’s not here. Maybe she took an off-path course down to the river.”
I bit my lip. “I tagged her car for you like you asked. That was really all you wanted.”
Tagged my car?
“Well, if you want her so bad, you come find her. It’s getting cold, and I’m not waiting around.”
My stomach sank.
Fear slithered down my spine.
“Well, she’ll have to see you eventually, won’t she?”
My fingernails dug into my palms.
A screech sounded from above, and then Possum landed in the tree above me.
“Oh, man. That’s the biggest bird I’ve ever seen!”
I heard the cock of a gun, and then I was screaming.
I don’t know what came over me.
I screamed so loud that the man must’ve startled and dropped his gun.
The gun went off, and I found myself running before I’d thought it through.
My fingers closed around the bear spray almost on autopilot, and then I was yanking the pin free and spraying it before I’d gotten much thought into what I was doing.
The man, who’d appeared in my line of sight as soon as I passed the big trees between me and the trail, froze.
I sprayed, and he was crying out and screaming.
The moose I’d been watching scrambled off.
Possum screeched again.
And I stopped, picked up the man’s phone, the shotgun, and started to run down the trail.
The man stayed behind screaming, likely hating himself and the world as the bear spray did its thing.
My sore foot protested the quick movements as I all but tripped over every single fallen log, rock, and uneven surface on my way down the mountain.
By the time I got midway, I was dying.
I was tired, out of breath, and had no idea what to do with the items I’d collected.
Hell, I didn’t even know how to shoot.
I should call someone.
Tell the police what had happened. Let him know that someone had put a tracker on my SUV. That the man who’d been trailing me had been talking to someone on the phone about me.
I didn’t know what the man’s plans were for me, but I did know that I wasn’t going to be here to find out when he finally came up for air.
I was so focused on what I was doing—that being not falling down the mountain—that I didn’t spot the burly looking man in the game warden uniform until I all but ran into him.
An “oomph” left his lips as he caught me and kept us both from eating dirt.
“What the…”
I gasped and stepped back out of the man’s arms, my eyes wild.
He must’ve read the desperation on my face because he stepped back with his hands up.
My brain finally caught up with my feet, and I thrust the gun at him and said, “Take this!”
He did, eyes wary.
“There’s a man that I bear sprayed.”
He blinked.
“He was talking to someone on the phone.” I gasped. “He was going to shoot my bird!”