The Wayward Sister (The Wayward Sons 5)

After my parents died, I didn’t come out here for a long time. It hurt too much. I was dealing with Dexter and his anger issues. Then bringing in the other boys. Their masculinity had reached toxic levels. My brother was angry and depressed. Jake hid his learning disabilities behind a violent sport, and Charlie and George were traumatized by an abusive father. That’s when I realized that no matter how much it hurt, they needed the outdoors. They needed to exercise. To breathe. To heal.

They did it. Some of it through my efforts, a lot, admittedly, through their relationship with Starlee. That girl is a gift.

A rustle in the trees draws my attention away from my thoughts and I sit straight, looking for the source. It easily could be another hiker or wildlife. A dark shadow moves behind the trees.

Or a bear.

Fuck.

I don’t move, thinking if I just stay still, it will be fine. Bear attacks in Yosemite are very rare. But this bear is obviously thirsty, and it stumbles downstream, falling in with a splash. Two smaller bears follow.

Fuckity-fuck.

The baby bears amble around, splashing in the water. It gives me an opportunity to lift my feet out. They’re numb—half frozen—and don’t cooperate as I try to gracefully stand. I reach for my boots and my pack, easing backwards. A branch snaps underfoot, loud and unmistakable. The bear snorts, looking in my direction, baring her teeth.

I’m too close to the babies, and the mama doesn’t like it.

She growls and I startle, dropping one boot, and it splashes into the water. I grab it as the bear ambles forward, water dripping down my body. There’s no other choice but to run and I don’t hesitate, rushing through the trees. The sound of the growls fades with distance, and I don’t hear anything but the sound of my heart and my breathing. I don’t look back, not until minutes have passed. Not until I realize I’m off the trail. Way off the trail.

I lean against a tree, trying to catch my breath. Trying not to panic.

I reach in my pocket and pull out my phone, shocked to see I have service.

I call the one person that I know that can help me.

“Katie,” I say, voice wobbly and out of breath, “I’m lost. Can you call the ranger station?”

3

Adrian

I’m already in the northeast corner of the park when my walkie talkie crackles.

“Adrian, you there?”

“Yep,” I reply to Robbie. I pick up a piece of litter that most likely blew away from the campground and stash it in my pack. “What do you need?”

“We have a hiker that got lost just off Tiga Creek. Sounds like she got stumbled on by Big Brown and her babies.”

“Gotcha. I’m not far. Any landmarks?”

He lists a few that she described to a friend. She’s lucky she still has service. It can be spotty in the park. I cut east toward the creek and see prints in the soft dirt. They’re deep, and the tread is clear, implying they’re fresh. I mark my trail and follow them, taking care to look for any further footprints or impacted wildlife. At a clearing, I pause and call out. “Anyone out there? It’s Ranger Brooks!”

No response.

I cross the empty space, scanning the area. Robbie had mentioned a large rock outcropping, and it sounded like Buck’s Rock. I see the rocks in the distance and head that direction, calling out once more.

I wait a beat and then hear a faint voice call back. “Here!”

Relief settles in my chest, and I stride forward, heading off the path.

“You there?”

“I’m here! Can you see me?” Her voice is louder.

“Stay tight. I’ll be there in a second.”

I climb over fallen limbs and muddy low spots. I climb up a small rise and see the flash of a blue T-shirt. A coffee cup sits in the middle with rays shooting out of it. The Wayward Sun. I’ve been to that place—up in Lee Vines.