Supernatural Fresh Meat - By Alice Henderson Page 0,66
cooler.
Dean wondered where Sam and Bobby were. They must be out there looking for him. He had to get to a phone or electricity.
Grace was warming up; at least that was going well. If she had fallen into unconsciousness or hypothermia, he would have had to hike out and get her help.
It had been dark for a couple of hours when she stirred next to him and spoke. “Dean?”
He looked down, meeting her blue eyes. “Grace.”
“What happened?”
“The meadow turned out to be a lake. You fell in.”
She brought a hand up, rubbing her forehead. “My head’s killing me.”
“I’m not surprised. It was pretty dicey for a while there.”
“Good thinking with the sleeping bag.”
He smiled.
“So where are we, then?” she asked. She tried to focus on his face, but her head tilted to the side.
“That’s a good question. Figured we could look at the map once you were compos mentis.”
She looked at him groggily. “So where is it?”
Dean reached his hand out of the sleeping bag, and felt around in his pack until he grabbed the map. He picked up his headlamp and switched it on so they could see.
Staying hunkered down in the warm bag, Grace took the light and examined the map. “Damn.”
“Don’t tell me. We’re in an avalanche area.”
“No.” Her voice trailed off. Then she said, “I’m just mad I got us off course.”
“Frankly, I’m impressed you could get us anywhere without seeing any landmarks.”
She blinked, trying to make sense of the map. Dean could tell she was struggling to focus. He reached his hand out. “This is where you thought we were.” He pointed to the place on the map.
She turned the map in her hands, closed her eyes for several long moments, then opened them again. She pulled the map closer, staring at it. “I think we walked on the wrong side of this ridge here.” She pointed to a steep incline. “See that?”
Dean did. On one side of the ridge stood Seven Boulder Meadow. On the other was a tiny alpine tarn called Little Heron Lake. “Your unexpected dip in the water?” he asked, pointing to it.
“I think so.”
She studied the map for a few more minutes.
Dean pointed to Seven Boulder Meadow. “As soon as it’s light, we’ll backtrack to here, then cross the meadow. Then it’s just up the rockslide to the resort.”
“Sounds good.” Her speech was a little slurred. “Did you try to start a fire?”
“Everything was too wet. We’ll just have to hike fast tomorrow. Your boots will still be wet, and you’ll be a prime candidate for frostbite in those things.”
She lifted back the sleeping bag, seeing that she was dressed in Dean’s clothes. “I’m not wearing any underwear, am I?”
“You know what they say. Cotton kills. It was for your own good, I assure you.” He lifted his palm up to show he meant no harm. “I was a total gentleman.”
She looked at him begrudgingly. “Well, thanks. You saved my bacon.”
“And it’s very nice bacon, if you don’t mind my saying so.”
That earned him a weak punch to the ribs.
She folded up the map and gave it back to Dean. “Let’s try to get some sleep. We’ll need all our strength tomorrow.”
Exhaustion had long ago crept over him, and now that she was out of danger, he welcomed sleep. “Sounds good.”
She curled up next to him and soon he drifted off to the sounds of the gale tearing at the tent door.
The morning appeared as a slow lightening at the tent walls. Dean sat up, peering out of the tent’s small window. Snow had almost buried them, which explained why he’d been so toasty all night long. Grace stirred at his movement.
“It’s light.”
She sat up, rubbing her eyes. “Is it?”
“Yep.”
Outside, the snow fell heavily. The wind gusted, sending up columns of white through the trees. He still couldn’t see more than forty feet away.
“You sure about the way we have to go?” Dean asked.
“I better be.”
“That’s not very reassuring.”
“We’ll make it.”
They slipped on their boots and parkas, hats and gloves. When Grace stepped out of the tent, Dean stuffed the sleeping bag back in his pack, then took down the tent. When it was lashed onto his pack, they set out.
Grace walked faster today, probably worried about her feet. It was slightly warmer than yesterday, the temperature fluctuating as they moved on. They retraced their steps, skirting around the massive ridge this time. Every fifteen minutes or so, the wind would blow the clouds away, allowing Dean a glimpse at