Frantically, I drop to the ground, fold my arms over the back of my head, and curl my knees into my chest. Play dead. That’s what I’m supposed to do. Don’t run. Don’t fight back.
A guttural growl nearly ruptures my eardrum. She pins me down.
I cover my neck with my forearms.
Huffing and grunting, she swats my back, violently rolling me over.
My skull hits the dirt.
She strikes my thigh fiercely with her paw. I strangle the shriek in my throat.
She is going to maul me. Tear off my limbs. Rip me apart. I have to fight back.
Gnashing and baring her teeth, she arches her neck backward.
I secure the stone in my hand, preparing—
Suddenly a familiar sound punctures the rain, slicing open the forest like a firecracker.
In quick succession, it repeats. Six times total.
Instantly, the weight of the grizzly lifts from my chest. The growling stops.
Pattering thuds fade into the distance.
Like a thousand pinpricks, the hairs on my neck stand straight. The rain is falling harder now, splintering when it hits the ground. But only one sound echoes in my ears—Pop!
Dazed, I lift my head. The grizzly has vanished. In the distance, I hear breathing again. Low and steady this time. Human.
Footsteps are ten meters away. Five. I see a shadow moving, a blur in the rain.
Fear grips me. I scramble backward, but someone reaches me before I can stand.
CHAPTER 7
“Hey, don’t move.” He puts a hand gently on my arm.
I flinch, lodging my back against the tree root.
“Whoa,” he says soothingly. “She’s gone. Cubs too.”
Since I was five, I have been instructed to assess people; someone is either a threat, or not.
I run my fingers along the mud until I retrieve the jagged, palm-size stone.
Even kneeling beside me, I can see he’s tall—strong, young, with tousled light brown hair and smooth skin. Beneath his shirt is an outline of broad shoulders. A bolt-action rifle is slung across his back.
Where was he? How’d he reach me so quickly?
He scans my body quickly; his eyes descend from my head to my neck, over my chest, and down to my legs, then back up to my face.
Heat flushes my chest.
My hair has fallen over my face in a tangled mess of mud and leaves. I push it back under my hood.
“You’re not cut,” he murmurs in a deep, clinical voice, sounding both relieved and surprised.
I glance down at my leg. The bear must have struck me with her forepaw—only fur and muscle—no claws. My leggings are ripped from the sharp rock edges on the ground; the material flaps open, exposing a swatch of my pale thigh, now turning a grim violet shade.
“Can you stand?” he asks.
“Yes.” I rub the back of my head. “I’m fine, I think. Thanks.”
With a taut grip, he pulls me to my feet.
Though I’m tall at 175 centimeters, standing I barely reach his shoulder. I look up at him. His face is cut hard and straight, with a square jaw, defined cheekbones, full lips, and piercing green eyes, staring intently at me.
“You’re running out here by yourself?” he inquires sharply.
I nod.
Lightning strikes above us. Prying his eyes from mine, he looks over my shoulder.
Then he takes off his backpack and removes a scope. As he does, his shirt inches aside, revealing an oblong patch of black leather tucked against his hip.
Seeing this irritates me. I can defend myself.
He holds the telescopic lens to his eye, glancing around.
“Is she coming back?” I ask, swiveling my head to scan the trees. With the rain cascading in sheets, the forest blurs into a murky expanse of pine and evergreens. “Lions stalk their prey first,” I explain, “then attack, then leave before returning—”
“You’re not prey,” he answers evenly. “She was just defending her cubs.”
Another bolt of lightning flashes. Dropping the scope, he locks his vibrant eyes back on mine. Why is he looking at me so peculiarly?
My chest tingles beneath my jacket.
“Are you visiting?” he asks casually.
“I live here.” I pause. “Technically, I moved here last night.”
A flicker of familiarity passes his face—so quickly I can’t be sure. He’s attractive, and mature, but still youthful. Does he recognize me from school?
It doesn’t seem possible to have not noticed him there.
He notices me noticing him. A wave of heat swells in my neck, collecting at my throat.
Flustered, I nod at his hip. “I hope you’re better with your SIG than you are with a rifle.”
He looks between the holster and me, amused. “You think a pistol could hurt a grizzly?”