Silence.
I start walking.
Rustle rustle.
I stop.
Silence.
Wonderful. Something is stalking me.
The underbrush here is thick and I can’t see anything, but whatever’s hunting me is being really noisy about it. It’s either an abysmalhunter or so confident it’s going to eat me alive that it’s not even trying to be subtle.
Rustle rustle.
The little hairs on the nape of my neck stand on end, my spine tingling. I’m fully aware of everything around me. Every sound, every rock, every leaf. Must be some leftover primal instinct from the tribal days when we were prey ourselves.
I move several more paces, my hand sliding to the knife at my hip. I prefer my rifle, but the knife will do. I have the handgun, but I don’t want to stop and unzip the backpack. I’m worried my stalker will strike while I’m distracted.
I scan the area, but all I see are trees and leaves and rocks. I swear, if this is a horned bear…
I shiver.
No, a bear would be a lot louder than this. The horned bear that lived in the Blacklands when I was growing up sounded like a herd of elephants whenever it was charging through the woods.
I hear the rustling again and spin around in search of any signs of movement. Nothing.
It’s even darker now, the sun barely filtering through the trees anymore. And then I see it—something moving in the bushes. Whatever it is isn’t stealthy. There’s a low growl, the scraping of claws against stone, and then it bursts out of the brush.
It’s a ridgehowler.
I freeze, my eyes colliding with the wolf’s.
I’m expecting the cold stare of a predator, but his eyes are a mixture of vigilance and interest. He’s still growling, though, his paws inching forward.
I recognize him immediately. Or at least, I think I do. There could be other young ridgehowlers roaming the mountain, but this one looks distinctly like the one we left behind after we killed its mother. Pure white except for a red patch around one eye. I can’t imagine two of them having that exact marking.
“Hey there,” I say cautiously.
His ears press back, tail going low. His expression is more fear than curiosity now.
“I’m not going to hurt you. I promise.”
I kneel, keeping my movements slow and deliberate.
“Come say hi,” I encourage. Someone else might call me crazy, but I’m good with animals. I can sense when they’re a threat, and this one isn’t. He’s too scared.
I hold out my hand, my gaze locked with his. His curiosity returns as he peers at my outstretched fingers.
“Come on, just a quick sniff hello.”
His ears perk each time I speak. He growls again, but this time it’s unconvincing. His paws shift, and I hide a smile when finally, he takes a tentative step toward me.
“There you go.”
A few more cautious steps, and he’s nearly in front of me. We stare off again and it seems like the entire mountain falls silent, every plant and creature holding its breath as the wolf decides whether it wants to kill me or say hello. He sniffs the air near my hand, then gives a small whine, and I swear his tail wags slightly. He comes within inches of smelling my hand before backing up. That’s enough for me.
“See, I’m not so bad.” I brush the dirt off my knees and rise to my feet. “All right. I gotta go, buddy. Otherwise I’ll be trapped on this mountain all night.”
