Under the Northern Lights(10)

That was when I saw three of them slinking their way out of the tree line. Their teeth were bared, hackles raised, and a menacing growl was escaping their lips. They were clearly telling me, Don’t do anything stupid. I wasn’t about to meekly let them eat me, though.

Heart in my throat, adrenaline rushing through me like a river, I fumbled for my gun. Like I’d signaled a race to start, the three wolves surged forward. Oh God . . . I heard sounds behind me and knew more of them were closing in that way. I could almost hear a countdown to my death beginning. Five. Four. Three . . .

Yanking the rifle off my body, I swung it around, chambered a bullet, and fired. Something yipped in pain, but I couldn’t tell which dark creature I’d hit. I hadn’t been prepared for the recoil, and I lost my balance. Putting too much weight on my bad leg, I felt my knee buckle, and I started falling backward. I immediately tried to correct myself, but the log I’d been using as a chair was in my path, and I landed hard on the rough bark. My ankle caught underneath the wood, and I felt something wrench before it pulled free. Pain made me cry out, but I was still falling. I slid off the log, and my back hit the snowy ground. I could hear the huffing, puffing sound of animals running my way, could feel a ripping pain in my thigh as the wound protested the violent jerking. Gun still clutched in my fingers, I chambered another bullet, raised it over my head, and fired blindly.

Another wolf cried out in pain, but the rest of them weren’t stopping. Fur and teeth crashed into me. I blocked as best I could, but my strength was ebbing, and eventually the snarling, snapping ferocity would overwhelm me . . . especially once the wolf’s help arrived. I yelled, screamed, fought, but in my head, I was again saying goodbye to everyone I’d left behind. God, please . . . not like this.

The animal was going for my neck—going for the kill. Its teeth were getting so close that I could feel its hot breath on my skin. Jesus. Would I still be alive when it started devouring me? Just the thought made me want to throw up. But if I did, I would die, so I fortified my stomach and kept fighting with everything inside me.

Somehow, I pushed the beast away long enough to grab my rifle. It wasn’t made for close combat like this, but it was the most effective weapon I had within reach. I loaded the gun again and pulled the trigger in almost one movement. The creature I’d been fighting had been lunging for my throat when the bullet exploded through its chest. It fell in a heap just to my right; then two more beasts took its place.

Even while I fought for my life, raising my gun like a shield, I felt like sobbing. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. Then more blasts rang out through the night, and the animals trying to kill me yelped in pain. One fell over and didn’t get back up. The other one limped off as quickly as it could. More shots echoed in the night, and the growls around me subsided into silence.

My brain couldn’t comprehend what had just happened. Had a bear learned to use a gun? Because right now, that was the only thing that made sense. I tried to sit up, to look around, but I didn’t have the energy; I fell back to the ground with a grunt. And that was when a man dropped to his knees at my side.

“Are you hurt? Did they get you?” The voice was gruff and blunt, with an edge of annoyance.

I was alone in these woods. Was I hallucinating? Had I died? “Who are you?” I choked out.

“Are you hurt?” he repeated, definitely annoyed now.

Slinging his gun over his shoulder, he reached into his jacket and pulled out a flashlight. Flicking it on, he ran it over my body. My vision was hazy like I’d been drinking all day, and the sudden brightness wasn’t helping anything. I tried to focus on his face, but all I was seeing was a frost-covered beard and a pair of startlingly blue eyes. “No,” I whispered.

The ice-blue eyes narrowed as they locked on mine. “Your pants are torn and bloody, and there is a barely healed cut above your eye. Want to try that again?”

Annoyed myself now, I shook my head. “The wolves didn’t do that. I was . . . in a plane crash.”

His expression softened as he looked me over. “Oh . . . I see.” Pursing his lips, he looked around my makeshift campsite with his flashlight. “I can get you to my cabin, but it’s going to take a while, especially if you can’t walk well.” He returned his eyes to me. “We’ll stay here tonight, head out in the morning.”

Either the pain was catching up to me, or the adrenaline was wearing off and leaving stupor in its place. He had a cabin here? “Who are you?” I asked again, baffled that I was in the middle of nowhere, talking to another human being. Who apparently lived here.

“Name’s Michael. Michael Bradley.” He stuck his hand out, and I gingerly took it.

“I’m . . . Mallory Reynolds.”

He gave me a soft smile, full of compassion. “It’s nice to meet you, Mallory.”

Our greeting was so oddly normal . . . but none of this was normal. I’d narrowly survived my plane going down; then I’d somehow managed to set up my shelter and make a fire, escaping freezing to death and bleeding to death; and now . . . now I’d barely made it through being something’s dinner. It was too much to take, and the last several minutes tumbled through my mind in an endless, terror-filled loop. I started shaking.

“I think you . . . I think you just . . . saved my life.”

I wasn’t alone in the woods. I wasn’t about to be eaten by wolves. I wasn’t going to die. Relief and lingering fear washed over me in waves, overwhelming me. Needing human contact, I reached out for him, drawing him into me. He smelled like pine and campfires and fresh snow. He smelled like life, and it was the best scent in the entire world. I had help now; things would be easier. I started sobbing as that realization struck me. I was going to be okay. “Thank you, thank you . . .”