Rogue's Revenge - By Gail MacMillan Page 0,60

He stood and turned to her. “I’ll find lunch.”

“I can’t wait to see what you come up with this time. I’m so hungry almost anything you deem edible will be accepted.”

He narrowed his eyes, pulled his knife from its scabbard, and ran his finger along its blade.

“Heath, no! Not some animal!”

“Hand me the cooking pot, there. I’m off to harvest nuts and berries.”

“It’s too early in the season.” She caught the teasing in his tone and knelt to open the packsack. “Although I said I could eat almost anything, I’m not fond of twigs and roots.”

“Noted. Avoid roots and twigs.”

He took the pot and headed off into the fog toward the alders along the river. Allison adjusted the pack into a headrest, lay down, and stretched out to wait. Weary after an arduous morning, she dozed. For how long, she couldn’t be sure. But she was certain that when she awoke it was with a feeling of being watched.

“Heath?” She jerked to a sitting position. The fog had thickened. She could see no more than a few feet in any direction. “Heath, is that you?” Her words sounded hollow and eerie.

There was no answer, but something moved a few yards away in the veil of whiteness.

“Heath?”

The answer was a grunt. A huge, hulking, hairy creature materialized out of the mist. It shambled toward her, hirsute hands extended toward her throat.

“Heath!” Allison stumbled to her feet, grabbed the packsack and started at a dead run in the direction in which he’d gone.

When she slammed into the hard wall of his chest, he caught her in his arms.

“Allie, what…?”

“Sasquatch! Back there!”

“Wait here.” He moved her aside, pulled his knife, and headed into the mist.

She stood trembling. Silence returned to the mist. Its surreal ambience and the memory of the monster that had threatened her made her stomach churn. Time moved like a slug. Finally she decided she couldn’t wait passively any longer. What if the creature had attacked Heath, overpowered him? Maybe at that very minute, the hairy giant was throttling the life out of him. She had to find some way to help. An inspiration took hold. She remembered the fire Heath had lighted on the riverbank near where she’d fallen asleep. Animals are afraid of fire. If I get back to the fire, I can help Heath…

Keeping the river to her left, she started back downstream. When she finally found the fire site, she was so relieved she barely noticed the pot of greens bubbling over the flames. Grabbing a stick, she thrust it into the coals and waited. If that thing came back, all she had to do was pull out her torch and, hopefully, he’d flee in fear. Hopefully.

Hugging her bent knees, she hunkered down beside the fire and waited and hoped and prayed. What was taking Heath so long? Since no sounds of a struggle rent the silence, she could only assume he hadn’t accosted the creature. But then maybe the thing had gotten behind him, struck him down without a sound. Maybe Heath was lying somewhere out there in the fog—wounded, dying, dead! Oh, dear God, let him be all right.

“Lunch ready?” Grinning, he stepped out of the mist. Relief flooded through her with strength-sapping force. She tried to get to her feet but stumbled and fell, unable to make her knees support her.

“Allie!” He squatted in front of her and put his hands on her shoulders. “Whatever it was, it’s gone.”

“What was it?” She collapsed against his shoulder.

“Some guy in a Halloween costume.” He kissed her mist-dampened hair. “Ran like a rabbit before I could get a good look at him. We’re okay for now, but I think we’d better eat up and get moving.”

“You don’t believe what I saw was a sasquatch?” She stared up at him.

“No, not a sasquatch. Someone sent to scare us, maybe do us actual physical harm if that scare doesn’t work.” His tone lightened as he pulled her to her feet with him. “Come on. I’ve cooked up one of nature’s truly exotic dishes, available fresh for only two weeks of the year. I came back while you were sleeping and started them boiling. I went back to look for more but couldn’t find any. I was returning when Hairy Harry decided to give you nightmares.”

He swung about on his haunches and used a stick to lift the pot from its place above the flames. With a triumphant grin, he set the steaming dish in front of her.

“What is