Hannah regained consciousness slowly, disoriented at first, then stunned by the magnitude of her dilemma. She was at the bottom of a deep ravine, surrounded by walls so sheer she had no hope of climbing out. Even if she could climb.
She assessed the damage. There was blood in her hair, but the wound on her scalp felt superficial. Her body ached, but everything seemed to be in working order except her left ankle. It hurt to move, and she could feel the swelling already pressing against her boot.
It was amazing that she’d survived such a fall with so little damage. She had her thick winter clothing to thank plus the scrub brush that had broken her long plunge.
She remembered slipping over the edge, remembered her surprise, then her outrage. At first she’d thought, I can’t believe this, then as she’d tumbled from bush to bush, Ok, this is not so bad. I’m going to be all right.
And then there was that last rude shock. She’d landed on her wings. That’s what her daddy used to call her shoulder blades. As she scooted and came to a stop her left foot had ricocheted against a rock. Pain shot through her, but still she was thinking, It’s over, when her neck whiplashed and her head bashed against a rock.
Then silence. How long had she been knocked out?
Her watch crystal was broken but the dial still glowed. Six o’clock.
A long ululant cry filled the night. She could make out the shape towering above her, the wolfman with his head lifted toward the pale sliver of moon.
“Hello, up there,” she yelled. “Is there a way out of here?”
No answer. What had she expected? She was on her own.
Hannah felt around in the dark for her supplies. Parts of her camera were scattered across the rock. Her backpack had burst open and its contents spilled everywhere. She found one piece of jerky and started to eat it then reconsidered. That was all that stood between her and starvation. She’d ration it while she tried to figure out what to do.
Where was her cell phone? Her water?
She crawled in ever-widening circles trying to locate them, and finally gave up. She had no idea what was out there in the dark.
Huddled against the shelter of a rock she rolled herself into a tight ball for warmth. Tomorrow she’d find the rest of her things. Tomorrow she’d find a way out of here.
With her head pillowed against her backpack she gazed at the top of the cliff. The wolfman was still keeping watch. Somehow that comforted her.
In the morning she found the dead cougar. At first she thought another animal had killed him, then she saw the single jagged neck wound.
“You did this?”
She glanced at her protector. He had not moved from his spot atop the cliff, and in the daylight she could see why. It commanded a view of the entire area.
She wondered if he had slept. Probably not. He had the look of someone who was keeping guard, a tense, ready-for-action look. Hannah wished she had her camera.
She covered her mouth to stifle a giggle. Hysteria wouldn’t do. She had to stay calm.
“Did you kill the cougar to protect me?” she yelled.
This time she got a response. He moved around the edge of the cliff so he could position himself right above her.
“Did you make the shot from up there or did you come down here?”
She searched the rock face for footholds. Her head hurt, her ankle throbbed and her throat was parched. There would be no relief. She could see the bright red rim of her thermos on an outcropping of rock near the top of the cliff, with what appeared to be her cell phone lying nearby.
“This does not look good,” she said, and then she began a systematic search for a way out of the ravine.
Darkness dropped like a curtain, and Hannah sank onto a small boulder, exhausted and weak. Her hands were bloody from failed attempts at climbing. She’d had only one small bite of jerky all day and no water. There was no way she could survive without water.
The wolfman was still up there watching her. He’d watched all day, adjusting his position as she’d roamed looking for escape.
She had made no further attempts to talk to him. What was the use? He couldn’t understand her and she had to conserve her strength.
Maybe she’d think of something tomorrow. She crawled into her bed of rocks and tumbled into the blessed oblivion of sleep.
Someone was calling her name. “Hannah… Hannah. Can you hear me?”
“I hear you. Daddy? Daddy, is that you?”
“Yes,” he said, and suddenly Michael was there, not the fading father she’d last seen lying in a narrow white bed but a younger, robust version of him, the black-haired, green-eyed laughing man she remembered from childhood.
“How did you find me, Daddy?”
“You called me.”
“I want to go home now, but I’ve lost the way.”
“You’ll find a way. Don’t give up, Hannah. Don’t give up.”
She wanted to ask him questions. She wanted to say, How will I find a way? but Michael was fading and in his place was the shadow of a tall man backlit by the moon, a man with long flowing hair that glinted silver under the stars.
Hannah woke up crying. High above her the wolfman looked like something carved from the mountain.
“Help me,” she called, knowing that soon her voice would be too weak to carry. “Help me.”
There was no movement from above, no sound. “Please, please help me.” Still he didn’t move.
She lay back in her rocky bed, spent.
Don’t give up.
“Daddy,” she called, but she knew he’d only been a dream. There was no one to help Hannah except a man who had lived among wolves so long she didn’t know whether he had any language left or any capacity for human feeling.
Suddenly inspiration seized her, and she yelled at the top of her voice.
“Hunter Wolfe!”
He dropped into a crouch and leaned far over the edge of the cliff to peer down at her. Hannah couldn’t believe it.
Did he recognize his name? Did it trigger some memory?
She dragged herself into a sitting position and lifted her arms toward him.
“Hunter Wolfe, help me. Help me!”
He leaped into the air and for a heady moment she thought he was flying. Then she saw the rope, and as she watched in amazement the man she’d called Hunter Wolfe descended into the ravine.