Forsaken An American Sasquatch Tale - By Christine Conder Page 0,20

the two teens had better have good answers.

As she crested a small hill and neared the steep embankment, she saw Nathaniel, shrouded in a dark aura, pacing near the ridge. She growled in fear and frustration. He turned, motioning for her to hurry. What was he doing? Why hadn’t he gone over? She rushed to his side, looked over the edge, and understood.

Dusk had fallen, but her Sasquatch-aided nocturnal vision let her see clear to the bottom. The chasm did not hold an injured body.

Sage’s scent had diminished in the downpour, but there were signs of the path she’d taken down the steep slope. The skid marks and matted greenery were plainly visible through the overgrowth. Sage still had some growing to do, but at fifteen, she stood over seven feet tall in her Sasquatch form. Liberty scanned the entire length of the base, looking for something she had missed, but Sage wasn’t visible anywhere at the bottom.

Maybe she’d got hung up along the way? Nathaniel must’ve had the same idea. Before she knew it, he slipped over the edge and started to pick his way to the bottom. She lost sight of him partway down, a large laurel obstructing her view, so she ran down toward the opposite end and to start her own search. Maybe both looking would find her more quickly.

The trees in this area didn’t have dense canopies, so the rain soaked her pelt. Trying to see better, she stopped every few feet to wring the fur on her head out, like a big soggy rag. Sage’s scent had now washed completely away. There was nothing for Liberty to latch onto, so she found a spot that didn’t look too treacherous to descend. It was as good a spot as any to begin. Perhaps Nathaniel had even already found their daughter.

Every time she stopped on her descent to clear her vision, Liberty called out to Sage. She knew she risked discovery, roaring as she did, but finding Sage outweighed the risk. She focused on the thick underbrush, looked for sable fur, pushed thoughts of pale flesh to the back of her mind.

Every stick, thorn, and bramble found its way into her coat, weighing her down. She stopped to untangle herself a half dozen times, grew more frustrated each second.

As she worked to remove a stubborn branch which managed to embed itself into the longest of the fur on her torso, Nathaniel stepped into view below her. Alone. She froze, branch in hand, and tried to decipher the look she saw in his eyes.

She smacked her hands on the earth where she sat. What was he looking at her for? Where was Sage? He climbed up, took her by the hand, and pulled her to the base of the cliff. He pointed ahead, to the left.

They weren’t in Montgomery Woods anymore. This was a rougher area, usually free from people. Even the die-hardest hunters didn’t venture past the ‘no trespassing’ signs posted every five feet.

Nathaniel continued to point. Even though it was dusk and the clouds refilled, tracks from a vehicle stood out ten yards away. The utility road.

The road was overgrown and closed to the public. It snaked through the woods and ended at the blacktop, Rimrock Hill Road, where a rusty chain strung between two posts blocked the entrance. Despite the blockade, people would sometimes unhook the chain and drive down the path to see where it took them.

With the comprehension, the desperation to locate Sage ballooned. Maybe they’d somehow missed her. Maybe she was behind them. Liberty turned and paced the rocky bottom, called out to Sage in deep grunts. Grunts quickly evolved into wails, and a moment later, Nathaniel tackled her to the ground. The air went out of her lungs and she slugged him. He didn’t retaliate, but straddled her, one hand holding both of hers, and waited as she tried to buck him off. When she made a solid connection with a knee between his legs, he latched onto her throat. Her aura turned blood red. She bucked harder, and he forced her head to the side.

She faced the road, not the incline, and the new position caused her to stop the struggle. Nathaniel waited a minute, then released his grip. She got it. Got a grip on herself. They’d search the road. Maybe Sage had been too injured to climb back up and went around. Liberty nodded, calmer. Nathaniel lifted himself off and extended a hand to help her up.