I had just enough time to dive behind a fallen log as a snorting, furious and hugely antlered buck leaped through the underbrush and sailed majestically over my hiding place. The rising moon gave me just enough light to admire him as he vanished again. While he was a beautiful sight to behold, he wasn’t exactly the rescue I would have preferred. Sort of hard to fully appreciate him, too, considering the pounding terror that shoved me down against the ground to cower like a terrified child.
Weird how my brain was happy to see animals had returned to the mountain despite Frieda’s attempt to scare them away.
The snorting, squealing sequel I heard coming long before the boar appeared and I knew if it caught sight or wind of me I’d be in serious trouble. While the buck was happy enough to leave me alone, wild pigs in these parts had a terrible reputation for their temper. Yes, I had my own anger issues, but I had zero illusions about who would win in a Fee vs. pissed off pig contest.
Fortunately for me, the boar veered and rumbled by, just visible through the underbrush in the low light. If it did know I was here it clearly decided I wasn’t worth the effort, though I wasn’t going to hang around and let its friends choose otherwise. Because from the sounds heading my way, it wasn’t alone. Caleb must have still been driving game toward me.
My head might not have been screwed on properly, but I knew better than to run in a straight line. Okay, so the trees prevented straight lines, but I quickly remembered how many times I’d yelled at the TV or the movie screen for the heroine to run sideways out of the path of the oncoming danger instead of fleeing straight ahead of it. Sure, it made for better visuals in a film or show, but in real life? I chose living over drama, thanks.
The underbrush tugged at me, thick enough I had to flounder through it, hard in the best of circumstances. I fell several times, feet sliding over wet leaves, catching on tree roots, the deepening chill of the November night (or was it morning yet?) devouring my strength and chattering my teeth together. I finally collapsed, panting, the sounds of fleeing wildlife long behind me, and hugged myself against the cold. Realizing only then I had zero idea where I was and that Caleb might get his wish after all. If I didn’t find my way back to the main building, there was an excellent chance I’d die from exposure.
And not the quick, devouring end that I’d almost suffered the Valentine’s night I’d found myself locked out in a snowstorm, either. Nope. As I wiped at my running nose, the cold making my nostrils ache, chest heaving ice in and precious warmth out, I knew I was in for a very bad end.
Not that I was quitting. I looked up at the moon, hoping for some directionality. But without knowing the time or even when it was meant to rise, I had little in the way of guidance there. Though, at least I’d have some company when I perished from exposure.
Pessimist.
I coughed softly, throat aching, tried to call out. Surely someone was looking for me by now? Jill or Bill and Moose? They had to know I was missing. Except, of course, I hadn’t told anyone I was out of my room, wandering about and making myself a target for the murderer. And Caleb wouldn’t be making any announcements I was no longer safe and sound under the covers. The gunshot, though. I perked at that memory. They would have heard it, surely realized it meant something was amiss. If, that was, Caleb hadn’t taken me so far from the main building the shot would have gone unnoticed. I exhaled and shook my head at my lack of faith. I’d been in this position before. And I’d made it through. I just had to keep moving. Thing was, if I chose the wrong way? I’d be walking into the depths of the mountains and no one would ever find me. But if I sat here, stayed put, I’d freeze to death. Nice options. And despite my training to the contrary, that Dad would kick my butt for not holing up and making a shelter, covering myself in leaves for warmth, something, anything, I chose to keep moving. Stubborn much?
Pick a direction, Fiona Fleming.
I have no idea how long I staggered through the dark woods, though I did finally figure out I was heading west, at least according to the moon’s path. I altered my trajectory slightly, pushing a bit more north, best guess at the retreat’s location, happy to find I’d been moving in the right direction all along. Gave me the strength to carry on despite my aching legs and the way my arms and hands dragged at me as if the cold had turned them into dead weights, pulling me down.
A deep, threatening grunt woke me from my stumbling daze. I looked up slowly, heart quivering, and froze in place, a giant, black bear standing at the crest of the small hill just above me. It glared down at me, huffing its anger while I stood rooted, unable to scream or run or do a thing to keep it from coming after me.
It wasn’t until it barreled into me and carried me to the ground, the fuzzy muzzle rubbing against my cheek, wet nose burrowing into my neck I realized, for the second time, I’d been saved by this particular creature. And, for the second time, I’d mistaken Moose’s giant shagginess for a bear.
I hugged him, crying and burying my face in his mane, hearing Bill’s voice, unable to call out past a squeak through my painful throat. He appeared at my side, scooping me up into his arms and carrying me, while I faded in and out, through the trees. Also familiar and I really had to find a way to thank him for saving my life. Again. At least this time I was conscious when he brought me inside, the sound of my mother’s strident voice muffled before my ears cleared and her sharp fear came through loud and clear.
“Here! Put her here.” I tried to tell her I was okay, that Moose and Bill saved me again, but she was shushing me, hands on me, feeling my forehead, my pulse, the warmth of a fire crackling and making me moan while she grasped my fingers in hers and gasped. I was so cold, she felt like molten lava. I almost jerked away, draped in a blanket a moment later, Jill coming to hover next to me, her face near mine as she crouched by the sofa in the study, expression tight and terrified.
“Fee,” she said. “What happened?”
“Caleb,” I croaked. “Find him.”
She looked startled, then nodded, Bill cursing softly.
“Tunnel,” I said, wishing I could get out a full sentence. “Under. To the river.”
She seemed to get what I meant, though. And was gone in a flash, Bill with her, while the heavy, familiar form of my now anxious pug settled on my chest, Petunia’s long, warm tongue sweeping across my cheek.
***
I knew that scent, adored it. It reminded me of warmth and soft lips and long, lingering hugs that did more to heat me up than any fire. I opened my eyes to the gorgeous blue ones that always made me happy and smiled.
“Crew.” My voice was still harsh, barely there. But he was here, so it didn’t matter.
“We caught Caleb,” he said, his own tone low and steady. “He was trying to escape across the bridge. We only got him because of you.” Why did he suddenly sound so angry? And his lips were trembling, his hand shaking as he brushed hair from my cheek. “Frustrating, stubborn, busybody.” All true. “What the hell am I going to do with you, Fiona Fleming?”
Stupid tears leaking out of my eyes. Traitors. I shook my head, wanting to sob on his shoulder, but he was kissing me so there wasn’t time for that just yet.
All good. I could wait.
***