Left for Wild Page 9
I support her unsteady legs with a sturdy hold. “Are you okay?”
She nods, a rapid series of bobbles that blur as one. “Yep, just clumsy.”
“It’s rough going. We should slow down. The last thing you need is a broken ankle.”
Her quaking shudder says it all. “That would be awful.”
“Do you want me to carry you?” Having her clinging to me would be well worth the balancing act.
“And all of our stuff? No way. I already feel like baggage while being on my own feet.”
“More like a blessing. One I stole from her previously peaceful existence. You wouldn’t be dealing with any of this if it wasn’t for me.” The churning in my gut is becoming a reflex.
“Not your fault,” she reminds.
I shove the hatchet into the emptier bag. “Come on. It won’t be much longer. I’m sure you’re lighter than a bag of feathers.”
“Are you trying to charm me?”
“Is it working?”
In response, she allows me to scoop her up. “This doesn’t strengthen my macho reputation.”
“But mine is looking pretty great, right?”
Blakely’s gaze latches onto mine, blue slamming into green with the intensity of a turbulent ocean. “Better than ever.”
Being separated from her by only the steam of our exhales is the most gratifying form of temptation. I almost surrender and allow those stormy depths to sweep me away. But kissing her now is a risk I’m not willing to chance. That impulsive instinct is better suited for later, when I can thoroughly enjoy my first taste of her.
I stride off with the most precious cargo in my grip. With each step, the crashing rapids of a racing river get louder. That natural symphony gets my pulse roaring until the combined playlist is deafening. I rein in the urge to erase the remaining distance in a hurry. It would be our luck if we hit the edge of a cliff instead of reaching the shore. Our journey isn’t meant to be easy.
Someone must be looking down on us, though. Directly ahead of us, the nonstop rows of trees come to an end and reveal the most glorious sight. Blakely cranes her neck to the left at my abrupt halt. Her body goes rigid in my arms, but she doesn’t move otherwise.
“You found it.” Her voice is breathy and tinted with awe.
“We did,” I correct. “You’re just as essential to this operation.”
She huffs and begins wiggling in my hold until I set her down. “This is good, right?”
“Very. It’ll be huge if we find fish. That will at least solve one crisis.”
Blakely peeks into the river from where she stands. “Should we, uh, go in and find out?”
“Not yet.”
Both sides of these banks are lined by the dense woodlands. There are only a few sections of shoreline with wider access. Being this close to a source of water infuses the air with a clean scent. This is a place where grime is washed away and sullied slates are wiped blank. A deep inhale grants me a lungful of fresh beginnings.
I motion to a larger gap several feet down. “We can settle in over there. I’ll get a fire started first.”
She gives me a curt nod. “Roger that. What can I do?”
My instincts shout that she needs a job, small as it might be. Who am I to go against that gut feeling? “Can you collect sticks and leaves for kindling? Anything dry is best.”
“You got it, boss.”
I chuckle and shake my head. “If anyone is in charge, it’s you. I’ll gladly follow your orders.”
Her brows wag at me. “I’ll be sure to remember that. Now quit distracting me. I’ve got twigs to collect.”
She prances off with the authority of a foreman. While Blakely is occupied with her task, I begin searching for a smooth rock to sharpen the hatchet. The patchy earth in this area is littered with them, so there will never be a shortage. I dunk the flatter side of the nearest one until the slab appears black. After parking my ass on a broken stump, I get busy. The blade glides across the hard surface, setting off a subtle grinding with each swipe.
“What’re you doing?” Blakely’s voice is just beyond my shoulder.
I peer backward to confirm her close proximity, if only for an excuse to stare. “Just a bit of tool maintenance.”
She watches me slide metal over stone for a second. “I’ll say it again, you’re super impressive.”
“I just happen to have a solid foundation of outdoor skills that most tech nerds don’t.”
“So modest.” She dumps a pile of brush scraps beside me.
“Thanks for that. Want to dig the pit?”
Her baby blues sparkle from the bright rays bathing us overhead. “Yes, I can handle that.”
Once the hatchet gleams like new, I stride to a neighboring spruce. Most of the lower boughs are bare and optimal for catching sparks. The blade slices through branches faster than butter. Split, toss, repeat. It takes me less than five minutes to gather enough logs to get a decent flame going. All of my warm layers remain intact since I barely have time to break a sweat.
Blakely has shoveled a deep crater once I’m finished cutting enough to last us for the next several hours. I crouch low and set the tripod with her hovering in my personal space. Slowing down my movements, I follow each step for her to see. Thin tendrils of smoke rise from between brittle bark, feeding off the crispy foliage. Soon enough, the air is thick with the sweetest scent of burning pine needles.
“Not sure I’ll ever get over how fast you do that.”
I turn to grin at her. “You can build the next one.”
Blakely twists her lips to one side. “Not sure about that.”
“I believe in you.”
“You’re just saying that to put us on even ground.”
“I don’t have to make shit up for that to be true. Trust me, Blakely. I’m getting the better end of our deal.” The thought of being trapped out here alone sends a murky cloud over any glimmer of joy we’ve created. A punch of guilt immediately follows. I’d trade anything to have this woman safe in her home.
She squints at me, the growing flames illuminate her eyes. “Yeah, yeah. Not sure we’ll ever agree on that. What’s next?”
I step toward the river’s edge with her hot on my heels. “Catching some lunch.”
Blakely’s gaze is tracking the zagging cascade. “Wow, the water is flowing fast.”
“The stream might be flooded, or from a steep slope nearby.”
A set of dimples get aimed my way. “Boy Scouts teach you that?”
I chuckle and rock on my heels. “For once the answer is no. I learned that from living in the country.”
She releases a quiet whistle that’s mostly wind. “Hot damn. Were you a farm kid?”
“My grandparents owned a cattle ranch. The family business is run by my uncles and cousins these days.” A hollow ache kicks up in my chest, but I ignore the misplaced loss.
“Do you have any shares in that trade? Planning on swooping in and taking ownership? You could be the real boss.”
I scrub over the pressure brewing beneath my forehead. “Shit, that’s my parents greatest wish. Computers have always held my interest. Not sure I could do the open range justice. My brother feels the same way. That’s mostly why my mom and dad aren’t involved. Period.”
She winces. “That sounds vague, yet very complicated.”
“I’ll tell you all the messy details of growing up in Trixton Falls once we get out of this disaster. There’s only so much room for anarchy up here.” I tap my temple.
“Fair enough. But I’ll hold you to that.”
“I hope you do.” It’ll give me a reason to stay connected with her, if I don’t find one more significant in the meantime.
“All right, I’m going in.” I bend to grab the spear at my feet. The thin branch I found earlier makes a credible pole for these circumstances.
Blakey’s gaze widens on the sharp tip. “That’s a legit weapon.”
“I’ll make you one later, just in case.”
“No jinxing us,” I remind.
“Knock on wood.” She thumps her fist on an abandoned stump.
“Okay, I’ll try to make this quick.” I tromp onto the wet dirt along the shore.
After trudging through the snow for hours, my feet are still dry. I glare at the reflective surface, my view zeroing in straight to the bottom. I wade into the shallow front with my spear poised and ready. The documentaries I’ve watched on Canadian wild always boasted about an abundant supply of fish. A passing glance shows over a dozen following the current.
It takes me five stabs to snare two. I can only hope my odds improve with practice. After flinging the trout onto land, I try for more. Another three jabs, I have two more on the line.
Blakely claps from her spot behind me. “Damn, Halder. I wish we had a camera to capture this moment.”
“Keep talking like that and my head won’t fit through this forest. I’ll be like a moose.”
She giggles and ducks her chin. “That would be a funny sight to see.”
I scoop up my haul and carry them to the flat slab. “Are you squeamish?”
“Is that a nice way of asking if I have a weak stomach?”
“I’m about to slice into these fish with nothing more than a hatchet and my fingers. It won’t be a pretty sight.”
Her nose scrunches, and she spins around. “I’ll leave you to handle the gore.”
“My butchering talents are subpar at best.”
“But that won’t impact their taste. It’s all about the effort.”
The mess I make with a few chops is fairly gruesome. Bits of flesh and scales decorate the snow. The putrid stench permeates my nostrils, and I chuck the remains into the river. Not a single twitch attacks my gut. The sights I’ve seen tip the scale on murderous. I skewer the hacked filets on a makeshift spit and hold them over a section of low flames. The aroma of cooked meat fills our camp within moments.
With a shrewd gaze, I inspect my handywork. “I could probably whip up a rotisserie stand. That would make this process easier.”
She plops onto a dry spot beside me. “Of course you can. I have no doubt.”
Once the trout have a decent char, I pull them off the fire to cool. I unpack our bowls and separate the portions, giving her more than half. Blakely raises a brow when I pass over the fuller dish.
“I don’t need all this.”
“Just enjoy what you can. After those protein bars, we need a good meal. There’s plenty more where that came from.” I nod toward the stream.
We eat in near silence, only the mutual humming of our appetites being fulfilled bounce between us. Then Blakely lets a moan loose that borders on indecent. The food in front of me is forgotten as I watch her lick pieces of fish from her slender fingers. She sucks on her thumb, devouring every morsel. The satisfaction pounding into me far outweighs that from yesterday. I will cook every hour of the day for her if this is the reaction I get. She doesn’t notice my piqued interest, or the puddle of drool slowly forming in the dirt.
Blakely smacks her lips together. “This is so freaking delicious. Way better than fake ice cream.”
“I’m glad you think so.” My voice is little more than a croak.
Before I can attempt to redeem myself, the crunch of crumbling brush under approaching footfalls has me searching our perimeter. In the shadows cast by branches, a red fox slinks in our direction. His scampering approach is stealthy as fuck. Sly as these creatures are, that’s no surprise.
Blakely follows my line of focus, zeroing in on the scavenger. “Oh, what a cutie.”
I grunt. “I guess.”
She cocks her head to the side, gaze still latched onto our visitor. “He’s harmless, right?”
“Yeah, mostly curious. Probably hungry. He’s small and poses no threat to us other than stealing our scraps.”
“But feeding him will attract his friends?” Her tone holds a hint of hope that the opposite is true. Not enough to make me feel bad for confirming her assumption, though.
“Correct. If we ignore him, he’ll go elsewhere. We’re scary enough that he won’t dare getting too close.”
And that’s exactly what happens. After doing a thorough sniff of our general area, the little guy wanders off the way he came. Blakely stands and stretches once we’re alone again.
She gestures at my dish. “I’ll clean these out.”
I study her smooth movements as she bends toward the shallow waters. Is this a rustic spin on domestic bliss or what? That has me jostling the loose screws inside my brain. I’ve probably had too much fresh air. That’s been known to do strange things to a man’s proper functioning. I force my attention elsewhere and gather an armful of logs. Tending to the fire will reinstate my man-card.
“Um, Halder?”
I don’t turn from stoking the coals. “Yeah?”
“We have company.”
“Another fox?”
“This is a bit bigger. And by bit, I mean quite a lot.”
The shaking edge to her tone gets my full concentration. I peer over my shoulder and freeze. Where the inquisitive scrounger was lingering five minutes earlier, a massive gray wolf now waits.
“Shit,” I spit. My muscles flex at the sight of this dangerous predator. When I glance at Blakely, her face is pale, and she’s visibly trembling.
She covers her ghostly cheeks with quaking hands. “What should we do?”
The wolf prowls forward another step. I’m no coward, but this beast will rip us apart. “Find a hiding place.”
“Aren’t they scared of us?”
“More like indifferent, unless they’re hungry enough. Come here.” I wave at the space between her and my side.
She inches toward me on wobbling legs. “Should we run?”
“I wouldn’t recommend it. Can you climb a tree?”
“Will that work?”
“Either that or take our chances trying to scare him off with fire.”
That doesn’t sound safe. The lone intruder puts one menacing paw in front of the other, looking ready to attack. Blakely’s gulp is audible. “Okay, tree it is.”
I sling the bag with our food over my shoulder and clasp onto Blakely’s hand. Her grip is white-knuckled and rattles my arm. I do a quick scan of the available options within close sprinting distance. A sturdy spruce with low branches snags my gaze. I point at our chance for escape. She bobs her head while blinking away tears.
“Ready?”
Another nod is all it takes for me to propel her on a fast getaway. Blakely slips on the first gnarly limb, and my stomach crashes to the icy floor. A thundering whoosh slams into my ears, thrashing with the force of a hurricane. I lift until her feet hover above the ground. When she whimpers, I give her a boost onto the next accessible bough. Sap and bark stick to my palms. Twigs whip my face with fiery lashes, but I hardly feel a sting.
Our upward jaunt isn’t graceful, but we get out of danger’s way all the same. Watching Blakely’s ass shimmy up the trunk is almost hypnotizing enough to make me forget my own name. The threat of a killer savage is ancient history. But the rumbling growl from below slaps me into the right frame of mind.
Once we’re out of grabbing range, I guide Blakely onto the nearest branch large enough to support her weight. I choose a spot farther up on the left. After testing the strength, I prop my ass on a forked section and sit backward so she remains in full view.
Blakely’s eyes are blown so wide that more white than blue shows. “Holy shit.”
I wrench off my hat for some much-needed relief. The blast of frosty air singes my sweaty flesh. “That was too fucking close.”
“You saved my life.” Her panting exhales steam up the space separating us.
“We’re not out of the woods yet.”
“Close enough for me.”
We glance down, tracking the wolf as he stalks around our site. His nose
presses to the snowy ground as he searches for anything of value.
“Now what?”
I comb through my damp hair. “We wait until he loses interest. Are you comfortable?”
The rustling of her clothes follows my question.” I guess so. Why?”
With iron in my gut, I scowl as the mangy beast parks his ass at the base of our tree. “This could take a while.”
Survival tip #13: The scent of fear doesn’t overpower everything.
Who knew a wolf could be the size of a freaking bear? Sure as hell not me. From my vantage point up in this freaking tree, that frothing beast looks enormous. I’ve never been in direct harm like this. It’s a very chilling experience, chattering my bones with an intensity that leaves me colder than the arctic wind. Sheer panic took over my entire body until I was a quivering mess. If it wasn’t for Halder, I’d be wolf food. And that’s only if I survived this long in the first place.
I was certain my eyes had been playing tricks when that hulking form popped out of the stationary background. Those beady eyes glowed with malicious purpose. His dark gray body was a sore sight among all the green and white. Based on Halder’s initial reaction, this was a very unwanted party crasher.
Goosebumps attack my flesh as a single chomp of deadly fangs destroys our fishing spears faster than toothpicks. There’s nothing quite like a wild animal chasing me to get some perspective. That clarity is snarling fifteen feet below me. The hazards in these woods are not meant to be downplayed. So, we’re stuck in a damn pine tower without a ladder. Just when our luck began turning for the better. I should’ve been more prepared for disaster to strike. But pessimism isn’t my jam.
An exhale carrying a load of bad news escapes me. If I force it all out, nothing will be left to plague me. I allow my neck to roll until the cloudless sky appears above me. With the adrenaline wearing off, a numb coating is wrapping around me. The glittering reflection from the sun between the needled branches is dazzling.