Bear Meets Bride (R) - Amy Star Page 0,16

beach, closest to the cabin, and her foot snagged a root, causing her to slam against a tree trunk. It ripped the air out of her, and she felt her side burning, but continued on. The screams were louder as she saw the glint of blue between the trees and leapt down through the underbrush towards the shore, whether into the cross-hairs of a poacher’s rifle she knew not. Only that she had to reach Dylan.

The shoreline was chaos. The white outboard motor was facing out to the ocean. All four men were either in, or attempting to get in, and she saw the screams were coming from the youngest of them. Two older men were hauling him into the ribbed cask of the boat, one of them raising a rifle one-handed and aiming onto the beach. The youngest looked white, with blood-loss or fear or both, Sarah couldn’t say. Something dark trailed behind the men in the water like ink, and she realized with a sickening lurch that it was blood.

He was wounded and holding his ribs. The camo vest was torn, shredded, and she couldn’t tell what was flesh and what was material. Geezus, what happened, she thought, breaking free of some brush and jumping down onto the hard stones. She followed the line of sight of the poacher’s rifle back toward the beach and saw a grizzly snarling at the men. He was enormous, a tawny golden brown, and his teeth were white and sharp. It wasn’t Dylan – Dylan was black, black as night. It could only be…

“Chris!” she shouted aloud, without realizing her voice had acted of its own accord.

The grizzly turned at the outburst, his black eyes locked on her like pulsing stones, and his muzzle raised in a half-snarl. When he saw whom it was, his muzzle softened, and Sarah could see something red seeping from his shoulder. More blood, she realized.

The men in the boat had started to move further out in the bay but they saw her, too. Something like panic and confusion warped their faces as they tried to grasp at the situation – a snarling grizzly and a young girl, both apparently acquainted. It was only a moment. She saw him raise his gun, leveling down the sight, for another shot.

“Run!” Sarah said, ducking toward the cover of the shoreline herself.

Chris, even in bear form, seemed to understand her urgency, if not her exact words, and galumphed on his own vector toward the safety of the tree-line. Another shout rang out, eaten up by the crash of waves, and Sarah looked over her shoulder. Stones next to Chris’ massive body sparked, shaken by some invisible force and she let out another sharp exhalation of relief.

In the darkness of the canopy, she looked back and saw the outboard heading due east, toward one of the other islands. Toward their ship, she guessed, skidding on her hands and knees toward where Chris had pierced the tree-line himself. She found him, a huge brown hill in the forest, slumped against another fallen tree, his breathing slow and ragged.

Dylan was beside him, his hand on the bear’s slope of a head, dressed in only his pants. As Sarah got closer she saw that his head was bleeding from a vicious cut that ran from the right side of his brow, above his eye. Blood was still dripping over one eyebrow, although it was dark around the wound where other blood had dried. He turned at the approach of the girl, and like Chris, his face softened like tallow as soon as he saw who it was.

“Chris…” He couldn’t speak and winced, falling backward and shooting out a hand to support himself. “Dizzy, can’t…” He shook his head, and the muscles in his forearm stood out like riven valleys. “Are they gone?”

Sarah collapsed next to Chris as well, but her eyes were on Dylan. “What… what happened??”

“Can’t remember,” Dylan said. “I was down on the shoreline, coming back to the cabin. I heard a sound, like thunder. Before I could look up to see where it had come from, there was blackness. Pain. A pressure like a hammer on me.” He reached up and touched the wound.

Sarah already had her shirt off and was ripping desperately at the thin fabric. Beads of sweat trickled down her breastbone, swerving slow arcs between her breasts, and disappearing under the fabric of her bra. She pressed a folded piece of shirt to his head and he winced