hurting as badly as the heat in her leg.
She peeled back her bag, startled by the sight of her clothes. Ripped, muddy, spotted with dried blood. Her hands appeared to have battled barbed wire and lost. Her nails were jagged and torn.
She studied the bandage, still in place and wrapped loosely around her thigh. It untied easily enough but refused to loosen from her skin. Maybe a scab was forming. She inspected the skin around the bandage. It wasn’t pretty but the swelling had started to go down.
Cody retied the T-shirt, careful not to yank on it. She forced herself to choke down a strip of jerky, then licked the last of the squashed berries off the deerskin cloth that had held them. The berries were sickeningly sweet now, too ripe. Scooting out of her sleeping bag, she stood up and laughed as her shorts nearly fell off. She couldn’t believe she’d lost that much weight.She used the filthy bandanna as a belt, then hooked on the bear horn.
At least there aren’t any mosquitoes
, she thought, pulling the slicker over her sweatshirt for added warmth. She forced her feet into her dirty socks, then slipped into her boots and found a couple of walking sticks.
Moving down the trail, she concentrated on the sky, which would soon be filled with planes and helicopters.
Soon, Derek
. She no longer dreamed of a hot bubble bath or brushing her teeth. None of that mattered now.
For the first time since she’d left camp the day before, she started making plans. The bear horn. It could be used as a diversion, drawing Wildmen away from Derek. First she’d have to figure out how to set it off without touching it. If only she had some fishing line; she could tie it around the trigger, string the line over the ground.
Cody noticed her steps slowing; she was relying heavily on the walking sticks. Sometimes she’d catch a whiff of her own breath. It was just as disgusting as she’d always imagined a bear’s breath would be.
Bears
. She fingered the horn. She wondered why they weren’t bothering her.
Lost in thought, she hardly noticed the miles falling behind her. She searched the sky for rescuers. Maybe she hadn’t really seen a helicopter the day before. People stumbling around in the desert saw all kinds of things that weren’t real. Maybe that happened to people in the wilderness.
There had been signs of life on the trail earlier. But she couldn’t tell how long ago the prints had been made. Some of them were filled with heavy dew; others were little more than muddy smears.
Were Derek and Wildmen still ahead of her? Or had they circled back?
The answer seemed as clear as dew dripping off leaves.
Steal the tent and kayak. Destroy all signs of life. Make it harder on the rescuers
. She leaned against a tree, resting a minute.
But if Wildmen wanted to get rid of our gear, they could have done it before now
.
Suddenly her questions and answers seemed as muddied as a muskeg bog. She wasn’t sure of anything.
Back on the trail, a thinning stand of trees in the distance was being invaded by ground fog. Her heart sank. Fog could halt rescue efforts.
Please don’t roll in. Not now
.
As she moved down the trail, closing in on the white mist, she realized it wasn’t fog at all.
Smoke—
from a campfire! It rose from the ground, twisting and licking the air above the trees. Wildmen.
More alert than she had been in days, she sloughed off her pack and shoved it under a tree.
Derek?
The smoke wasn’t more than two hundred yards away. Still, she wasn’t about to rush into Wildmen’s camp. She had to move up on them slowly, quietly.
Like a predator stalking its prey, she crept through the trees toward the fire.
Cody picked her way over the soggy ground toward the smoke. She kept herself small, aiming from tree to tree. The cold had a sharper bite this morning. Summer was finally waving the flag, surrendering to autumn.
Then voices hit her. They absorbed her, played against her skin. She held her breath.
Voices
. Low and
She peeled back her bag, startled by the sight of her clothes. Ripped, muddy, spotted with dried blood. Her hands appeared to have battled barbed wire and lost. Her nails were jagged and torn.
She studied the bandage, still in place and wrapped loosely around her thigh. It untied easily enough but refused to loosen from her skin. Maybe a scab was forming. She inspected the skin around the bandage. It wasn’t pretty but the swelling had started to go down.
Cody retied the T-shirt, careful not to yank on it. She forced herself to choke down a strip of jerky, then licked the last of the squashed berries off the deerskin cloth that had held them. The berries were sickeningly sweet now, too ripe. Scooting out of her sleeping bag, she stood up and laughed as her shorts nearly fell off. She couldn’t believe she’d lost that much weight.She used the filthy bandanna as a belt, then hooked on the bear horn.
At least there aren’t any mosquitoes
, she thought, pulling the slicker over her sweatshirt for added warmth. She forced her feet into her dirty socks, then slipped into her boots and found a couple of walking sticks.
Moving down the trail, she concentrated on the sky, which would soon be filled with planes and helicopters.
Soon, Derek
. She no longer dreamed of a hot bubble bath or brushing her teeth. None of that mattered now.
For the first time since she’d left camp the day before, she started making plans. The bear horn. It could be used as a diversion, drawing Wildmen away from Derek. First she’d have to figure out how to set it off without touching it. If only she had some fishing line; she could tie it around the trigger, string the line over the ground.
Cody noticed her steps slowing; she was relying heavily on the walking sticks. Sometimes she’d catch a whiff of her own breath. It was just as disgusting as she’d always imagined a bear’s breath would be.
Bears
. She fingered the horn. She wondered why they weren’t bothering her.
Lost in thought, she hardly noticed the miles falling behind her. She searched the sky for rescuers. Maybe she hadn’t really seen a helicopter the day before. People stumbling around in the desert saw all kinds of things that weren’t real. Maybe that happened to people in the wilderness.
There had been signs of life on the trail earlier. But she couldn’t tell how long ago the prints had been made. Some of them were filled with heavy dew; others were little more than muddy smears.
Were Derek and Wildmen still ahead of her? Or had they circled back?
The answer seemed as clear as dew dripping off leaves.
Steal the tent and kayak. Destroy all signs of life. Make it harder on the rescuers
. She leaned against a tree, resting a minute.
But if Wildmen wanted to get rid of our gear, they could have done it before now
.
Suddenly her questions and answers seemed as muddied as a muskeg bog. She wasn’t sure of anything.
Back on the trail, a thinning stand of trees in the distance was being invaded by ground fog. Her heart sank. Fog could halt rescue efforts.
Please don’t roll in. Not now
.
As she moved down the trail, closing in on the white mist, she realized it wasn’t fog at all.
Smoke—
from a campfire! It rose from the ground, twisting and licking the air above the trees. Wildmen.
More alert than she had been in days, she sloughed off her pack and shoved it under a tree.
Derek?
The smoke wasn’t more than two hundred yards away. Still, she wasn’t about to rush into Wildmen’s camp. She had to move up on them slowly, quietly.
Like a predator stalking its prey, she crept through the trees toward the fire.
Cody picked her way over the soggy ground toward the smoke. She kept herself small, aiming from tree to tree. The cold had a sharper bite this morning. Summer was finally waving the flag, surrendering to autumn.
Then voices hit her. They absorbed her, played against her skin. She held her breath.
Voices
. Low and
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