Moonlight (9 page)

Lucas had designated that I go last. I didn’t fool myself into thinking that he thought I was special. He’d probably read my sherpa application and knew I was a strong swimmer. I’d been on the high school swim team and had tried out for the Olympic team. I missed making it by a few hundredths of a second. So although no one was watching my back, I wasn’t worried.

Since we were leaving Dr. Keane’s group and would return to the ranger village using this route, we were just going to keep the rope secured here so it would be ready when we got back to this spot. Most of our supplies would remain with Dr. Keane, so we could move more swiftly heading back.

I waited until Lindsey was almost three fourths of the way across before I started making my way. I gripped the rope hard and fought against the powerful rushing water. Without the rope, I knew I couldn’t have kept my balance, couldn’t have stayed upright. The currents were wild and turbulent. The water had risen to my waist when I felt a quick tug on the rope. The strange vibration reminded me of the way the fishing line grew taut when I went fishing with my adoptive dad and we had a nibble.

Brittany and Monique had made it to shore. Lindsey continued on—she hadn’t felt the unusual jerk on the rope, as it had started behind me and traveled only up to my hand. Suddenly I felt another one of those strange sensations of being watched that had dogged me ever since that first night when Lindsey had arranged the surprise party for me. In spite of the warnings sounding inside my head, I stopped and glanced back. Because it was so late in the afternoon, the shadows were lengthening. I couldn’t see anything. I supposed it could have been a bird—a big bird—landing and flying off.

“Kayla!”

Even over the roaring of the river, I recognized Lucas’s voice and the impatience in it. I turned back toward the distant shore. Lindsey was just making her way out of the water. I knew why Lucas was upset with me. I was the holdup. Lucas wanted to make some more progress before nightfall. The guy didn’t know the meaning of meandering or taking it easy. With him it was all about pushing to the limits, his limits and—

The rope suddenly snapped. The tumultuous water pushed my legs out from beneath me and I dropped beneath it. I lost my hold on the lax rope and started frantically searching for it. It was gone. But worst of all, I couldn’t draw in air. I was completely submerged and caught in the current. My lungs were burning, my chest tightening.

I fought to get my footing, but the chaotic water was propelling me along. I couldn’t find the river bottom. I must have gone into deeper—

Slam!

I hit a boulder or a rock or something incredibly huge and hard. It knocked the last of my breath out of me. I started battling to get to the surface. My lungs were on fire; my chest was aching. I didn’t know if it was going to cave in or explode. It felt like it was capable of doing both at the same time.

I broke through to the surface, gasped for air, and went back under the water. I had to get control. I fought back the rising panic and the fear of dying.

I’m not going to drown. I refuse to drown.

I struggled to lift my face out of the roiling current and rolled to my back. Where had the turbulent rapids come from? The water moved faster here. It was stronger. How far had I traveled? It seemed like miles.

Out of the corner of my eye, I caught sight of a large branch floating nearby. I lunged for it. It kept me afloat, gave me a chance to gather my thoughts and my breath. I had to get to the bank. I kicked, trying to use the branch as a floatation device, but the rapids were playing with it as though they owned it. I let it go and began trying to swim to shore.

I wasn’t that far away. I could do this. I could make it.

Something scraped along my knee. It stung, but it also made me realize the water was suddenly shallower. The current was still strong, pushing me along the rocky bottom, keeping my feet from gaining stability. I dragged myself until I was almost to shore. Then I lurched up and over the edge, onto the grassy bank.

My stomach and chest ached as I coughed up water. Then I collapsed, breathing heavily. I hurt all over. My arms and legs were scraped raw and bleeding in places. I began shivering, not only from the cold but from the shock of it all. I didn’t want to think about how close I’d come to drowning. I’d taken water rescue classes a couple of summers ago when I’d worked as a lifeguard at the city pool, but the river was more dangerous than a pool. I’d been lucky . . . so far. I knew from the survival classes I’d taken that I didn’t have the luxury of resting. It was imperative that I get warm.

I forced myself to sit up. I squeezed as much water as I could out of my clothes, but it brought no immediate relief.

I wanted to just lie down and sleep, but I knew I had to begin making my way back to the others. Running would help heat my body. I needed heat. I struggled to my feet and staggered forward through the trees.

A loud ominous growl froze me in my steps.

I’d thought the river would be the most dangerous thing I’d face today. I’d been very, very wrong.

An angry bear was much worse.

SEVEN

The bear was huge! Standing on its hind legs, it looked like it was close to seven feet tall—although my perception of its height could have been skewed by my terror. I didn’t know if bears reacted to the smell of blood or fear, but I was still bleeding—and I was definitely scared.

I’d read that if you were confronted by a bear the best approach was to drop to the belly and stretch out. Although I’d also read to curl into a fetal position. Decisions, decisions. I was still recovering from the ordeal in the river and could barely think, let alone decide which strategy to follow. I did know enough not to panic or run. But I couldn’t bring myself to go submissive. If anything happened, I wanted to be in a position to at least try to save my life.

Shaking its head, the bear opened its mouth and roared. Its teeth were huge and its paws were monstrous. Then it dropped to all fours and began to charge.

Instinctively, I turned to run. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught a blur of movement. A low threatening growl—different from the bear’s—reverberated through the area. I spun back around in time to see a wolf leap onto the bear.

Scrambling back, I tripped over something and landed hard on my butt. I thought I should use the distraction of the wolf’s attack to run, but somehow I couldn’t tear my gaze from the animals that were snarling and snapping at each other. The bear slapped at the wolf. I heard it yelp and I could see streamers of blood on its hindquarters where the bear’s claws had ripped through.

But it didn’t back down as it crouched, placing itself between the bear and me. I didn’t want this wolf to die. It wasn’t the one I’d seen last night. Of that I was certain. Its fur was different, a mixture of colors. It bared its teeth.

Standing on its hind legs, the bear growled. The wolf snapped, a low warning sound vibrating from its throat.

I knew I should have been running, but I just didn’t have the energy. Now that I was back on the ground, I didn’t know if I’d ever be able to get up. I wanted to scream. I wanted one of the sherpas to find me, to help me.

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>The bear made another swipe at the wolf, tossing it in the air as though it were nothing. After landing hard, the wolf scrambled up, went into a crouch, and began circling the bear. Then it sprung forward, went in low, and nipped the bear on the leg. The bear released a little yelp, turned tail, and ran.

Still crouching, the wolf turned toward me. Was I about to become its victim? I remembered what Lucas had said: A healthy wolf had never attacked a human. I tried not to cower. I didn’t want it to sense that I had reservations, that I was wary of it. But exhaustion, fear, and everything I’d endured since the rope snapped were claiming me, and I began trembling violently.

Trying to regain control of myself, I focused on the wolf rather than on how badly I hurt. It reminded me of a big dog. It was the most beautiful creature I’d ever seen. Its fur was a strange mixture of deep, luminous colors. And its eyes were a lively silver, not the dull gray of the wolf I’d seen last night. I had this odd sensation that it was looking me over, trying to determine—what? Why was it watching me? Why was it just standing there?

The longer it stood there, the more comfortable I became with it. I felt this strange sort of bonding that I couldn’t exactly explain. The wolves in my nightmares were always fierce, but this one had saved me, had put itself between me and the bear. All these years had I let what happened to my parents affect my dreams? I was afraid of something, but it wasn’t the wilderness or this wolf. It was something inside me, something I didn’t understand.

I heard a cacophony of voices. The others. I thought of Dr. Keane and his obsession with wolves.

“Run,” I whispered harshly. “Be safe.”

He turned his head at a quizzical angle. Then he bolted away, disappearing behind the dense foliage.

“Kayla!” Lindsey yelled.

“Here!” I stayed where I was, striving to gather my strength.

“Oh my God!” Lindsey cried as she, Brittany, Rafe, Connor, and Mason broke into the clearing. I was surprised Lucas wasn’t in the group.

Lindsey rushed over to me, dropped to her knees, and began rubbing my arm, careful to avoid the scrapes. It felt so good.

“We were afraid you’d drowned,” Brittany said as she joined Lindsey and began rubbing my other arm. The additional warmth was heavenly.

I gave a weak laugh. “No.”

Rafe removed his shirt. “You should take off your wet shirt.”

Lindsey snatched his shirt and shooed the guys away. “Lucas has ink like that,” I heard Mason say as they walked away.

On the left shoulder of Rafe’s back was a tattoo, something that looked like a Celtic symbol. Very much like the necklace I wore. I touched it now, relieved to find that I hadn’t lost it in the river.

“Yeah, frat initiation,” Rafe said. “Crazy, huh?”

Considering the circumstances, my first thought was wildly insane: I couldn’t picture Lucas joining a fraternity. The thought after that was that he’d stayed behind with the others and the supplies, rather than make sure I was okay. I couldn’t squash my disappointment.

Lindsey nudged my shoulder, bringing me back from my distracted musings. “Come on. We need to get you out of these wet clothes.”

I took off my shirt and bra. Brittany bundled them up while I drew on Rafe’s shirt. It still carried his body heat and was as comforting as a warm blanket. It made me feel so much better. My shorts were made of a quick-drying material, and while I wasn’t toasty, I wasn’t nearly as chilled as I had been.

Once I was wearing Rafe’s shirt, the guys came back over.

“Should we build a fire here or just get her back to camp?” Connor asked.

“Get her back to camp,” Rafe said. “Can you carry her?”

“Yeah, sure,” Connor responded.

“I can walk,” I insisted. “The movement will help warm me up some more, don’t you think?”

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>“Yeah, probably,” Connor said. “Can you stand? Start moving around?”

I nodded and he pulled me to my feet.

“What about Lucas?” Mason asked. “The way he was running shouldn’t he have beat us here?”

He isn’t at the camp? He came after me?

I felt this small spark of joy that made my eyes sting. How weird was that? Another delayed reaction to the trauma. That’s what it had to be. I wasn’t special to Lucas; he wasn’t special to me, except in a we-are-sherpas kind of bond.

“He probably lost sight of Kayla in the water and ran right past where she ended up coming to shore,” Rafe explained. “The guy’s going to university on a track scholarship. He runs like the wind. I’ll search down a little farther, see if I can find him. You guys head back. Kayla needs to drink something warm—the sooner, the better.”

He didn’t wait for anyone to argue with him. He just started walking in the direction that the wolf had gone.

“Be careful!” I called out. “There was a wolf and a bear.”

Rafe stopped as though he wanted to say something, but Mason beat him to it. “Where?”

“Here. They fought. They both ran off. The wolf is hurt. If you run across him—”

“Don’t worry. I won’t approach him. Wild animals and I don’t get along.” He hurried away to try to find Lucas to let him know I was okay.

When we got back to camp, I was glad to see that the tents were set up. I slipped into mine. I couldn’t get out of my damp shorts fast enough. I pulled on some warm flannel pants and a sweatshirt. The scratches I’d received were no longer bleeding, but I put some antiseptic on them. Couldn’t be too careful in the woods. Then I grabbed a blanket, wrapped it around me, and went out to sit by the fire. I needed some comfort food. A big bag of Double Stuf Oreos would be nice. But alas, I hadn’t packed our provisions.

Lindsey handed me a mug of soup. “Drink that. It’ll help warm you.”

She sat beside me. “We were so worried.”

“Not as worried as I was.”

“Okay, don’t take this wrong, but I’m glad it was you and not me. I’m not a strong swimmer.”