11 years ago

 

 

Autumn Jane Constance wiped tears from her eyes as she stumbled through the woods outside of Spokane. The crisp autumn air pinked her cheeks as she snuffled into her sleeve. Her mother, were she still alive, would have told her to buck up.

“AJ,” she would have said, “save the saltwater for the fishes.” And then she would have given her one of those patented too-hard hugs and gotten her a glass of water. Not a wildly patient woman, however AJ’s mom had been a really good one.

AJ couldn’t believe that it had been four whole weeks since she’d been gone. They’d wheeled out the hospice bed and gotten rid of all the monitors and the medicine in the cabinet. But AJ was still vaguely creeped out by her childhood home. She supposed it would always feel partly like a hospital to her now.

But she especially didn’t want to go home now. Today. The day her father had gotten back on the road. He was a trucker and every day without a load to haul was a day without a paycheck. Of course, AJ had been the one to insist that she’d be fine on her own. In a lot of ways, being on her own would be easier than muddling through the awkward silences that were inevitable with her father.

She just hadn’t anticipated the sick, tight curl in her stomach when she’d watched his rig pull away that morning.

Alone.

The word seemed to echo through her mind.

Not knowing what else to do, AJ did what she often did when she was overwhelmed or freaking out. She went for a walk in the woods that butted up to her little backyard. She’d wandered past her closest neighbors, a five minute walk, and saw that they were finally moving in the last of their stuff. She supposed she’d have to go over and introduce herself at some point. But not today. Not when she had snot coming out of her nose and the hiccups from crying for the past hour.

She’d bushwhacked straight up the mountain, cracking twigs as she went so she’d be able to track her way back. She’d never been quite this high up before. And certainly not on her own. But something about the mild danger of it, the unknown, gave her a little thrill that briefly overrode the gnawing grief in her gut.

AJ clambered up a little jutting outcropping and sat back, letting her feet dangle over the edge. She took a deep breath. Very deep. So deep it made her a little dizzy. She hadn’t known it was possible for a heart to ache quite this bad.

The fatigue of the hike up the mountain settled over her like a heavy blanket. The sun was still high in the sky. She could afford a little cat nap before she headed back down to her house. To her lonely, death-ridden little house. AJ pressed her head back into the moss behind her and squeezed her eyes shut. The leaves through the sun danced black patterns across her closed eyelids.

A twig snapped and had AJ’s eyes coming open, quickly scanning the trees around her. Something skittered up her spine and AJ suddenly had the very uneasy feeling that she wasn’t alone. That something was watching her. She sat right up now, scanning the trees and again seeing nothing. And then she heard it a second time. Another twig snap.

This time she realized that the sound was coming from above. Slowly, terrifyingly so, AJ lifted her eyes to the tree over top of her.

Her blood crystallized and seemed to stab her everywhere at once.

There was a mountain lion in the tree above her. Sandy colored, still as a painting, its tail flicked back and forth behind it. Fifteen feet up and staring at her like she was lunch. Which, she realized, she probably was.

AJ couldn’t help the scream that tore partially out of her throat, but it was her only concession to fear. Her hands scraped the ground behind her as she searched for anything to use as a weapon. She hit pay dirt when she found a fallen branch, just small enough for her to lift.

She’d been raised out here, so she knew that she needed to move slowly. Put distance between them while never showing her back, and appear as large as she could. She just wished she wasn’t damn near two miles from anyone who could possibly help her.

Taking a deep breath, AJ rose, held the stick out in front of her and stepped back. The cat, balanced on a branch, fell into a crouch, its yellow eyes huge and unblinking.

That was not good. Oh God. It was getting ready to pounce. Knowing she was going to have to stand her ground and fight, AJ choked up on the branch as if it were a baseball bat.

The cat’s back legs bunched and coiled as it lifted off, sprang into the air in vivid, high-def, slow motion.

But it never made the 15-foot jump to AJ. That mountain lion was slammed sideways, straight out of the air, by something huge and brown and roaring.

AJ screamed outright now, as the cat went sprawling, claws extended and scraping for purchase across the forest floor. Without looking back, the mountain lion was a golden blur through the forest. Going. Going. Gone.

And then AJ was left standing there alone, next to a ten-foot-tall grizzly bear.

Frying pan.

Fire.

Dead faint.

AJ’s world went black as she fell toward the mossy ground. She’d never know that she didn’t crack her body on the rock behind her. That the giant, chuffing grizzly bear reached out with one tremendous paw and pillowed her head before she hit the ground.

All she knew is that 20 minutes later she woke up with her cheek pressed against the bare chest of the most beautiful man she’d ever seen in her life.

His skin was golden and lightly dusted with ash brown hair. His eyes were dark and hooded and seemed to be lined with pain. There was an intriguing shock of white over one ear, although he couldn’t be more than 20 or 25 years old. He was carrying her like a baby through the woods, one strong arm at her shoulders and the other under her knees. The bear was gone. She was safe. And for the first time since her mother had died, someone was holding her.

AJ’s eyes fell closed again, this time, with more peace than she’d had in weeks.