Hanging my head, my breathing is getting more normal. And that's when it hits me; I'm hours from my car, with no food, no water, none of the provisions I brought. They're all on the bottom of the river.
“Fuck,” I say out loud to myself.
It'll be dark soon, and there's no way I'll ever make it back to my car before the sun goes down. Grabbing a handful of dirt, I chuck it into the water and scream.
“Ah!” I'm fucking angry. Pissed at myself for being so careless and stupid.
I shouldn't have gone this way. The second I saw the trail was narrow and slick, I should have gone a different way. But I was too stubborn and overconfident. I thought I had it, that it would be fine.
Well, it's not fine, and now I'm screwed.
Buttercup is still barking. He's manic, wildly barking over and over again as he runs around me.
“Calm down, Buttercup, it's fine. We'll figure it out.” My ankle starts to throb, so I reach down and rub it gently.
This makes things even worse. Not only do I have a knot on my skull, but I can already tell by the tightness of my boot that my ankle is starting to swell. A swollen ankle is only going to make getting out of here harder.
Buttercup barks louder as the hair on the back of his neck stands up. “What is it?” I ask, looking around. “There's nothing here.”
A sliver of fear scales my spine. We are in the deep woods where the wild animals aren't a few furry critters. There are deer, moose, wolves, mountain lions, and even bears.
I've never seen Buttercup like this. He's always barked, just like any other dog might bark. A cat, a squirrel, another dog, all of them can get him going, but not like this. This is different.
Shit, my bear spray was in my bag.
A branch breaks in the woods behind me. It's faint, but I hear it loud and clear. My heart starts racing, and the hair on my arms bristle. I'm easy prey for any predator. I can hardly move, there's no way I can get up and run.
Slowly, I reach out and grab the closest stick I can find. It's not very big, but it's enough to jab at an animal and hopefully scare them off.
Unless they're starving. A starving animal will fight for food.
And right now, I'm a sitting duck.
Taking in a deep breath, I let it out slowly, trying to calm my nerves. Listening carefully, I don't hear anything moving at all. The forest is unusually quiet. That's not a good sign. If the birds aren't singing and the small animals aren't rustling about, that means there's something out there lurking.
And as I try to be still, pulling Buttercup in under my arm to try and stop him from barking, another branch breaks.
I'm not alone.
2
Branson
What the hell is that?
Tilting my head, I listen. There's barking in the distance somewhere, and not just any barking, it's frantic barking. It's hard to tell where it's coming from at first. The bark echoes around me, coming in from all directions.
Tilting my head harder, I try to follow it. It's not usual to see anyone around here, not this far up the mountain. The only people I ever see are the occasional lost hunter, and even that's few and far between.
The barking gets louder, so I know I'm going the right way. It's possible a dog got loose and lost its way, and now it's being stalked by something. These woods are dangerous. With my gun ready to go, I keep moving.
Watching where I step, I try to stay down wind, so nothing can sense I'm coming. Pushing through the thick brush, I can hear the rushing water and see the trees thinning. There's a dog jumping around wildly, spinning and leaping in the air.
Creeping up, I have my gun up, just to be safe. I'm not sure what's on the other side of the trees. The dog could be rabid and losing its fucking mind, or it could be trying to ward off danger.
Either scenario isn't good for me.
Peering through the trees, I'm shocked at what I see. There's a girl laying on the ground, covered in mud, and soaking wet. Her dog is yapping, half at me and half at the river.
This river isn't normally roiling like this, and if she fell in, it tossed her around like a ragdoll in a washing machine. Standing still, I just watch her for second.
She pushes herself up, which is a good sign, but I want to make sure she's all right. Taking a step forward, I try to be quiet so I don't startle her, but I'm not paying attention and step on a branch.
The cracking noise causes her to whip her head over her shoulder, her eyes wide as saucers.