the wolf knew she would swing again if he let go—so it would hold tight. And it did. There was no give at all. Its fangs were sharp enough to sink into the wood like it was more like flesh than bone.
But they wouldn’t sink into her, damn it!
Twisting her arms as she went, she lunged forward, grabbing both ends of the stick in spite of the short end being so close to its mouth. Then she spun it, using her own body as leverage, putting all her strength into untwisting her arms.
Something snapped. She both heard it and felt it. The wolf jumped back, yipping. It glanced back at her, over and over, while it ran away, as if it feared she might come after it.
She looked down at her wimpy weapon. There, imbedded in the wood, was the wolf’s fang. Broken below the gum line. Red blood smeared across white wood.
She’d done it!
Before she had a chance to think better of it, she raised the staff over her head and whooped.
“That’s right,” she taunted in the direction the wolf had run. “Go tell your friends, baby. Don’t mess with a Physicist!”
And what if Gabby’s man might have heard her? She had no choice but to change direction again, just in case. She had a weapon now. Well, kind of. No chance she could get the hitter to sink his teeth into it, but it would give her a little false courage to get her out of the forest and to a road.
Surely, there would be a road. If not, she would climb a tree in the morning and get her bearings. If he’d gotten away from Ewan and the Rosses, Gabby’s man was in these woods too. If she gave up looking for a road and circled back, could she get to the tomb first?
If she did make it back, she would linger long enough to meet her sister, give her an earful, and get the woman to hand over her share of the inheritance. Then she’d tell the husband that his look-alike was missing and Ewan needed his help.
If she was lucky, Gabby’s man would be stuck here. He’d use up his bullets, in the darkness, on an angry wolf with only three fangs. Then, for the rest of his life, he’d have to pick fights the old fashioned way.
When the adrenaline wore off, she felt like she’d been hit by a truck. And she kept forgetting what she’d decided to do. Was she hoping to find a road? Was she hoping Castle Ross would be over the next hill? Although her legs moved just fine, she was having a hard time balancing the rest of her body on top of them, so she searched for a climbable tree. She’d never heard of a wolf climbing a tree and avoiding wolves was the only priority she could manage to hang on to.
Finally, in spite of the darkness, she found a good one. A tall thick pine tree with plenty of lifeless branches at the bottom of the trunk, then healthy ones about ten feet up that were dense with pine needles—a little camouflage after she twisted and squeezed her way up through the natural ladder. Every time she figured she’d gone high enough, she pushed herself up a little higher. The only things that could get to her then were squirrels and birds.
And hopefully, they were all asleep.
She picked a sturdy spot and sat down facing the trunk. She hoped the tilt of the branch would keep her from falling backward. Then she wrapped her knee over one branch and tucked the toe of her boot under the next. If she started to slip in her sleep, her leg should catch. The pain would wake her up and she’d be able to save herself. But there was no question about it, she would sleep. She was lucky she hadn’t collapsed already.
Her hair was the most convenient cushion to protect her cheek from the bark. She then hugged the trunk and laced her fingers. Her coat protected her skin. Once she realized she wasn’t at all uncomfortable, she tried to imagine her worries, one by one, falling to the ground like so many brown and crunchy pine needles. It was the last thing she remembered.
When she woke, Jules found that she hadn’t moved a muscle. The sky had a strange blue glow and mist swarmed like a shallow river against the forest floor. She could almost taste the