Travis had no idea how long he had slept, but he was suddenly aware of an enormous stillness.
The rain had stopped.
He listened a long time, and only faintly in the distance could he hear the slightest hint of thunder. The storm had passed over.
He had no idea what time it was. He could hear the tinny sound of Fahd’s radio. He listened to Fahd’s breathing until he was sure he was asleep, then reached over and flicked off the radio to save the batteries. Nish was snoring.
Travis had to go to the bathroom. He struggled out of his sleeping bag, careful not to disturb the other boys, and unzipped the front of the tent.
The clouds had moved on and the sky was clearing now, allowing for some moonlight. Travis stepped out, his bare feet sinking into the soaking ground. It was like stepping through a swamp, the dirt and pine needles and grass squishing up between his toes and each step followed by a sucking sound that seemed to be trying to pull him back.
He moved to the edge of the glade and relieved himself, careful to ensure that the sound didn’t wake anyone – especially the girls!
He was standing there, waiting to finish, when Travis was struck with the strangest, eeriest feeling he had ever felt in his life.
Someone was watching!
There were eyes somewhere in the dark, and they were boring into him!
Travis shivered. Not from cold – the air had warmed again with the passing of the storm – but from a terrible sense that something menacing was watching him, and waiting.
He was almost too scared to turn. He considered calling out, but was afraid he’d be ridiculed if it turned out to be nothing.
Slowly, Travis turned around, ready to jump if necessary. He could see the tent, the lean-to, and the firepit. He could see where they’d stashed their packs under an edge of the tarp. He could see where the moonlight petered out and the black apron of the woods began.
He could see eyes!
Never in his life had Travis felt such a chilling tremor go up and down his spine. It felt as if his hair were standing straight on end.
The eyes were yellow, gleaming in the moonlight like miniature headlights – and Travis felt himself frozen.
Suddenly the eyes moved.
The creature moved smoothly, catlike. It loped silently past the firepit. A wolf! It was still staring at Travis when it suddenly swept in under the spruce trees and vanished into the darkness.
Travis breathed out. Without realizing it, he hadn’t taken a breath since he felt the eyes on the back of his neck. He was shaking, shaking like a leaf, even though it was hot enough for him to be sweating.
His head was spinning. A wolf? Was it dangerous? Would it attack? And yet, Travis thought, all it had done was stare at him and then move off. No growl, no snarl, nothing. Just curiosity, and then it was gone.
His heart was pounding. He could hear it in the silence, could feel the blood pumping through his temples. He felt light-headed, almost as if he were about to topple over.
Travis made his way back to the tent. He could hear Nish snoring, could pick out, faintly, the breathing of the sleeping girls. Should he waken them? Wouldn’t he just scare everyone if he told them about the wolf?
It was gone, he decided. He should try to get some sleep.
Maybe he hadn’t even seen it at all.
But Travis could not get back to sleep.
He lay in his sleeping bag trying to get comfortable, trying a dozen different positions, but nothing worked. His body might have been tired, but his mind was racing.
Was Muck trying to find them? Was the wolf still there? What was happening in the search? Was Jake Tyson dead or alive?
Travis shook his head and tried to think of other things – his grandparents’ cottage, heading back to school, the upcoming hockey season – but more worrying thoughts kept intruding. He gave in to his fate and simply lay there, waiting for morning to come.
It was so quiet now. Nish wasn’t even snoring any more, not since he had shifted abruptly in his sleep, mumbling something about talking boxer shorts.
Travis tried counting sheep. He tried going over every goal he had scored that summer in lacrosse, then every goal he had ever scored in hockey. He tried to remember his top ten favourite tournament games. He tried to remember the names of all the teams the Screech Owls had ever faced …
… and then he heard the sound.
At first he thought it was his imagination. Or maybe it was the wind picking up. But it was neither. It was a sound unlike anything Travis had ever heard before. A sound like something heavy being pushed or dragged.
And then he heard the breathing.
Heavy breathing.
It was large, whatever it was.
A moose?
A bear?
Travis reached for his shorts and, very quietly, afraid even to breathe, dug around in his pocket until he found his jackknife. He pulled it out and opened the blade, ready to fight back.
He felt like a fool. What good would a little Swiss Army knife do against a bear? One swat and the knife would be flying into the bush. But if he had to fight, he would.
He was ready to jump up. The second he heard the bear trying to get into the tent or the lean-to.
He lay there, shaking, near tears, and listened.
The heavy breathing continued for some time.
And once in a while, the other sound, the sound of something heavy moving.
Then, suddenly, all went silent.
Travis lay, finally able to breathe. He thought he could hear branches snapping some way off in the bush, but soon there was nothing.
Silence.
And then he fell asleep.