of the car.
Dutchy unbuckled her belt and slipped out. “J.D.?”
The blonde mechanic squatted down near the back of the car. “Aww shit. Looks like it rained a lot last night. Washed out the dirt and left that big boulder sticking out. And now the tires are stuck in the mud.”
Walking over to her, Dutchy bent down next to J.D. The rear tires were, indeed, mired down deeply in a mix of mud and wet leaves. “Could we get it out?”
“We could try.”
And so, they did, with J.D. in the back pushing while Dutchy attempted to drive it out. The tires spun and spun, and the engine roared and sputtered, but the car didn’t budge.
“Fuck.” J.D. cursed as she kicked the tires and wiped the mud from her jeans. She’d also lost her hat at some point, and her wild mop of blonde curls stuck out from her head. “Sorry, Dutchy. Your tires just weren’t made for this.”
Dutchy sighed. What else could possibly go wrong today?
“Hey, none of that now,” J.D. admonished. “You said this dirt road lead up to his cabin, right? We’re both young and healthy, we can make it up there.”
She glanced up at the road ahead. J.D. was right. It wasn’t the end of the world just because her car was stuck in the mud. “All right, I guess we should start walking.”
J.D. scraped off as much of the mud as she could, then they began to trudge up the road.
“Sorry you had to get stuck up here with me,” Dutchy began. “And that you got all dirty.”
“Nah, don’t worry about it,” J.D. said with a wave. “I was never afraid of a little dirt.”
They continued their walk up without speaking much. It felt like they had been going for a long time, yet there was no cabin in sight. Had they taken a wrong turn, or was it farther than she thought?
“Are we there yet?” J.D. asked.
“I think—”
A shriek from somewhere deep in the woods made them both freeze. “What the hell was that?” J.D. swung her head around.
“I don’t know. But I don’t like the sound of that scream.”
“Me neither.” J.D.’s brows furrowed.
“A lost hiker, maybe?”
“The rangers should—”
Another ear-piercing cry rang through the air. Goosebumps rose all over Dutchy’s arms. “Oh. God.”
J.D. let out a hiss. “We should at least check it out. If someone fell and hurt themselves, they might need help sooner than later.”
Dutchy glanced up the road, feeling torn. But J.D. was right. Someone could be hurt bad, and she’d never be able to sleep at night if that person was in need when she could have done something about it. “All right. Let’s go.”
“I think it came from that way,” J.D. cocked her head into the line of trees. “I can hear them … follow me.”
Dutchy focused her sensitive hearing. She could hear some faint rustling sounds from deep in the forest, but being feline, J.D.’s ears were much more sensitive, so she walked ahead. As they made their way through the thicket, she could hear more sounds—shuffling feet and voices.
Suddenly, J.D. held up a hand, then turned to her, put her finger over her lips, then motioned for her to get lower on the ground.
They crouched low and waddled forward, slowly approaching the source of the noise which came from behind a low ridge. Peering over the top of the ridge, Dutchy bit her lip to prevent the gasp from escaping her lips.
“… think we used enough tranqs?”
“Yeah. She’s a tiny thing, shouldn’t need much.”
Two men wearing forest fatigues stood over a small heap on the ground. Focusing her vision, Dutchy could see that it was a small doe. One of them knelt down beside it and tied its front and rear legs together, then hauled the doe up onto his shoulders. “C’mon, let’s get her in the cage before she wakes up and shifts back.”
Dutchy opened her mouth in outrage, but J.D. slapped a hand over it, sending her a warning glare. They didn’t move for what seemed like an eternity. Finally, J.D. loosened her hand. “They should be far away enough,” she said. “But stay quiet, okay?”
Dutchy nodded, and J.D. released her. “Oh God. That poor doe … those men … how did they even get up here?”
“I don’t know.” J.D.’s light hazel eyes burned, and Dutchy could feel her animal’s rage. Her fox, too, was fueled by J.D.’s anger and let out a hiss. “We need to rescue her.”
“But … but shouldn’t we get help?”
“It might be