The Panther Mountain Peak broke through the white mist, ruling, in awesome splendor, over the soft, clear sky. In the long years that James had spent in Slide Mountain, he had witnessed this scene many times. Still, he could not get enough of it. The sunset colors in the winter sky had always been an incredible source of inspiration; he would savor each and every moment of the spectacle and wish that he could soon see it again.

Life near the summit of the highest peak in the Catskill Mountains was by no means easy. James Farrell was at the mercy of the elements. Wildlife that could actually kill – Black bears, wolves and coyotes – surrounded where he called home. Still, the 29-year old man was not afraid of beasts. In his mind, he felt he should be wary of men, not wild animals. Wolves, as well as other predators, were guided by instinct. Food, water and the continuation of their bloodline were the major factors that drove their behavior. Men were an entirely different matter. To James, they were led by lust, passion and greed. He had lost faith in them a long time ago.

Which is why he had almost no friends in Shandaken, the small town that was located less than two miles east of his cabin. Whenever he needed supplies, he would drive up to the nearest supermarket and buy them, barely saying a word to anybody, other than “hello” or “bye”. A 6’3”, handsome, athletic man like him attracted a lot of attention. More often or not, he had to tolerate Helen Weir’s advances, daughter of Dwight Weir, the supermarket owner. Most men would not pass on the opportunity to date the beautiful, 24-year old blonde, but that was not the case with him. He was not interested in making new friends. They were mere distractions; they could unravel his solitary life; the life he had chosen for himself.

Sunlight was slowly fading away, as he brought his coffee mug to his lips. Casting one last glance at the snowy, balsam fir forest slope, he returned to the safety and the warmth of his cabin. His dark-blue acoustic guitar beckoned. James picked up a log from the pile next to his fireplace and threw it into the fire, at the same time longing to feel the fine wood on his fingertips. As usual, he would spend the evening reminiscing about simpler, happier times, recollecting situations and emotions that had stayed with him until that day. He sat on the couch and took the instrument in his arms, readying himself for one more trip down memory lane.

Before averting his gaze from the wide, living room window, though, something drew his attention: A wolf’s tail, waving as he sped past his cabin. His ears picked up the hurried footsteps of more wolves. In a matter of seconds, four more animals ran by. Used to the sight of beasts hunting in the forest, he paid no attention to it and attempted to focus on his guitar. Nevertheless, he could not; a loud, agonizing scream of pain tore the silence. In a split second, a subsequent piercing cry for help made him jump from his seat. James put the guitar down on the couch and sprinted across his small living room. The little light helped him notice someone lying on the snow, just before the edge of the forest. Judging by the high-pitched tone, the voice belonged to a woman. His cabin was more than fifty yards away from the forest. James could only make out her yellow coat, as she lay on her back, facing his direction.

Having no time to waste, he grabbed his shotgun from the rack on the wall and stormed out of his cabin. By now, the first wolf was just a few feet away from her, closing the distance fast. James gripped the handle of his weapon and pointed it to the sky. The powerful blast echoed in the wilderness. Much to his relief, the five predators were spooked by the bang. Each and every one of the wolves turned around and started running in the direction from which they had come. Nevertheless, James had to make sure that they stayed away from him and his cabin as well. In his experience, the grey wolf only preyed on injured or sick individuals. The chances of him being attacked were very slim, but he could not risk an encounter with five, powerful lupines. Therefore, he lowered his shotgun and pointed it down at them. His hunch was correct: none of the wolves even cast a glance at him and bypassed his cabin.

James strapped his shotgun around his neck, feeling the adrenaline rushing through his veins. Looking down the forest slope, he started towards her. Within seconds, his legs were knee-deep in the snow. James staggered forwards, feeling the cold driving into his bones. Lightning began to light up the night; under any other circumstances, he would not appreciate the blinding light. This time though, it helped him pinpoint her exact location. She lay just a few feet before the closest balsam fir tree.

Running in the snow took a lot of effort. Even a strong man like him found himself short of breath, as he hurriedly closed the gap between them. But James would not stop. The woman’s image got closer and closer by the second; by now; he could make out the red color of her pants. Slowing down, he took two large steps towards her and stopped beside her. Then, James pulled a flashlight out of his coat and pointed it at her face, as the sound of her gasping breath filled his ears. She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, but, when she opened them again, he discovered that fear was still written across her face.

“Are you ok?” He asked, gasping for breath as well.

“My knee…” She groaned, tensing her jaw. Moving his flashlight’s beam over her body, James discovered what she was talking about. Her pants were torn at the right knee. Blood was oozing out of a deep gash across her kneecap. The thought of offering his hand to help her up crossed his mind. However, he quickly rejected it. A walk back to his cabin would take way too long and might be impossible. The wolves were still close; it was only a matter of time before they returned. So, he kept his mouth shut and moved around her. He bent down, reached towards her and put his hands under her armpits. James flexed his arm muscles. Slowly and steadily, he began to lift her. Another painful moan left the woman’s lips, as snowflakes fell off her long, brown hair and her coat.

“Sorry…” He said in a near whisper. “There’s no other way. Keep your voice down.”