would help with conservation efforts.
She only needed to get close enough for a photograph, and hopefully gather a DNA sample from a hair snare to add to her collection. That was it, and she didn’t think it was too much to ask.
It would have been a lot easier if she hadn’t left her other two team members behind. She’d gotten tired of the way they kept eyeing each other. Miranda had started feeling like a third wheel, like her presence was the only thing stopping the other two from hooking up…and she started to feel like soon, they wouldn’t let her presence stop them. The sexual tension had been high. She’d known she was right when she suggested they split up to continue collecting samples, and neither of them had complained.
They’d come out with two satellite phones, so Miranda had taken one and left the other with them. Now Miranda was blissfully alone.
Heaving the hiking pack back onto her shoulders, she set off once more. She didn’t go too fast—she didn’t want the cougar to feel cornered in any way.
The woods were peaceful, and quiet. Perhaps too quiet. She glanced at the ground. The tracks were still distanced well apart. Feeling reassured, she followed them.
When the sun was high overhead, she stopped for another rest. There was no way she’d catch up with the cougar today, and she had to eat to keep up her strength for more hiking. Already she was skinny enough that her friends had been pushing her to eat more. She wasn’t interested in food, though. She was interested in success.
She hated that she had so much to prove. She hated that she cared. And even though she usually loved being out in the field, right now she was mad at herself and she hated this damn forest and these damn mountains and every damn fly and gnat that had ever lived.
She inhaled a granola bar and a sandwich she’d made before packing up her campsite this morning, chasing it down with water. Break over—it was time to get back to work.
The forest was still quiet—the only wildlife making noise was far, far off. Frightened away by Miranda? She didn’t think so.
Next to a tall pine, the tracks stopped. She held her breath and backed slowly from the trunk. No doubt the cougar was up above her somewhere. Shit. She should have had her walking stick out, but after her lunch, she’d collapsed it and put it in her pack. Stupid, stupid, stupid. She eased the pack from her shoulders. If the cougar pounced, she’d swing her pack at it. The pack had the added benefit of making her look bigger when she held it over her head.
But nothing pounced. She raised her head, scanning the trees above her, looking for a flash of tawny gold, a thick tail, anything. But there was no cougar.
After getting out her walking stick, she circled around the trees. Then she widened her circles, looking up at the limbs for the cougar, and looking down at the ground for its tracks. Nothing. She continued to widen her search, not understanding where the cougar could have disappeared to. Sure, it was possible it had leaped from tree to tree, but why would it do such a thing?
She looked down, scanning for prints again, and then she found them.
Footprints. Not cougar footprints, human footprints.
What the hell? She’d thought she was the only human around for miles. This wasn’t exactly prime hiking territory; it was too far from anything.
And the idea of being around a human—well that, right now, was far more frightening than being alone with the cougar. Cougars, she understood. Humans, however, were unpredictable.
And human footprints…this human wasn’t wearing shoes . There was obviously something wrong with this human.
It was already getting dark, the sun dipping behind the trees, and she’d need to set up camp soon. Should she do it here, so close to fresh human tracks? Or should she risk going farther into the wilderness, hoping to put distance between her and the barefoot stranger?
The footsteps were going one way. She probably
She only needed to get close enough for a photograph, and hopefully gather a DNA sample from a hair snare to add to her collection. That was it, and she didn’t think it was too much to ask.
It would have been a lot easier if she hadn’t left her other two team members behind. She’d gotten tired of the way they kept eyeing each other. Miranda had started feeling like a third wheel, like her presence was the only thing stopping the other two from hooking up…and she started to feel like soon, they wouldn’t let her presence stop them. The sexual tension had been high. She’d known she was right when she suggested they split up to continue collecting samples, and neither of them had complained.
They’d come out with two satellite phones, so Miranda had taken one and left the other with them. Now Miranda was blissfully alone.
Heaving the hiking pack back onto her shoulders, she set off once more. She didn’t go too fast—she didn’t want the cougar to feel cornered in any way.
The woods were peaceful, and quiet. Perhaps too quiet. She glanced at the ground. The tracks were still distanced well apart. Feeling reassured, she followed them.
When the sun was high overhead, she stopped for another rest. There was no way she’d catch up with the cougar today, and she had to eat to keep up her strength for more hiking. Already she was skinny enough that her friends had been pushing her to eat more. She wasn’t interested in food, though. She was interested in success.
She hated that she had so much to prove. She hated that she cared. And even though she usually loved being out in the field, right now she was mad at herself and she hated this damn forest and these damn mountains and every damn fly and gnat that had ever lived.
She inhaled a granola bar and a sandwich she’d made before packing up her campsite this morning, chasing it down with water. Break over—it was time to get back to work.
The forest was still quiet—the only wildlife making noise was far, far off. Frightened away by Miranda? She didn’t think so.
Next to a tall pine, the tracks stopped. She held her breath and backed slowly from the trunk. No doubt the cougar was up above her somewhere. Shit. She should have had her walking stick out, but after her lunch, she’d collapsed it and put it in her pack. Stupid, stupid, stupid. She eased the pack from her shoulders. If the cougar pounced, she’d swing her pack at it. The pack had the added benefit of making her look bigger when she held it over her head.
But nothing pounced. She raised her head, scanning the trees above her, looking for a flash of tawny gold, a thick tail, anything. But there was no cougar.
After getting out her walking stick, she circled around the trees. Then she widened her circles, looking up at the limbs for the cougar, and looking down at the ground for its tracks. Nothing. She continued to widen her search, not understanding where the cougar could have disappeared to. Sure, it was possible it had leaped from tree to tree, but why would it do such a thing?
She looked down, scanning for prints again, and then she found them.
Footprints. Not cougar footprints, human footprints.
What the hell? She’d thought she was the only human around for miles. This wasn’t exactly prime hiking territory; it was too far from anything.
And the idea of being around a human—well that, right now, was far more frightening than being alone with the cougar. Cougars, she understood. Humans, however, were unpredictable.
And human footprints…this human wasn’t wearing shoes . There was obviously something wrong with this human.
It was already getting dark, the sun dipping behind the trees, and she’d need to set up camp soon. Should she do it here, so close to fresh human tracks? Or should she risk going farther into the wilderness, hoping to put distance between her and the barefoot stranger?
The footsteps were going one way. She probably
Similar Books
