Page 220 of Crucible
Alone again, I debate my options. Thorin, Khalil, and Seth will be pissed that I snuck off either way, but will they be more so if I return empty-handed?
I’m almost sure they’ll be happy that their fuck toy returned at all, but if I’m going to take their shit either way, I might as well make it count.
An hour later, my ass hurts from sitting in a tree, and I have to pee. I wait another ten minutes for something to kill to walk by, but when I don’t spot anything, I sigh and climb down.
Unable to accept defeat, even though the sun is up and my chances have dwindled, I start toward a rocky hill nearby that Thorin took me to a few times.
I get a little turned around, though, and after another ten minutes, I realize I’m lost.
Damn it!
I should have searched harder for a radio. Maybe then I could have called them to come rescue me. I bet they’dlovethat. Thorin will enjoy the hunt, Khalil will use it as an excuse to keep me locked inside the cabin, and Seth will appreciate being needed.
The guys let me have the bow and knife, but they’re still keeping me on a leash—albeit a slightly extended one.
Trust has to be earned. I get that. But it goes both ways.
So yeah, maybe sneaking out was my way of punishing them for not trusting me. I’m also proving that I can be trusted and useful.
Makes a ton of fucking sense.
After staring at my map for ten minutes to no avail, I’m forced to retrace my steps. I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve gone in a circle before I stumble onto a terrifying sight.
My stomach bottoms out as I stop in my tracks.
About a hundred feet ahead of me is a bear.
A fuckingbrownbear.
I’ve never seen one before, so I’m rooted in terror where I stand. It’s fucking huge. Five or six hundred pounds, maybe? Its fur is grizzled and different shades of brown. Chuffing sounds come from the bear as it works.
An image of Thorin and the scars left behind from his encounter with Bruce flashes in my mind. I’m chilled to the fucking bone, and for a few life-threatening seconds, I can’t move.
The bear’s back is to me—dirt, grass, and roots flying up as its massive paws dig into the south face of a grassy slope.
It doesn’t know I’m here, but I’m upwind. My advantage won’t last long.
Slowly, I back away as quietly as possible. I don’t know what has the bear so distracted, and I don’t want to know.
Whatever the hell it’s after, it wants it bad.
After I put enough distance between us, I hold my breath as I turn to leave, but then a tiny sound makes me pause, and my stomach turns.
Yipping, squeals, and whimpers.
Desperate calls for a mother who’s somewhere devouring my damn dinner.
Oh, nature, you petty, heartless bitch.
The hole isn’t just any hole.
It’s the tawny wolf’s den, and those are her helpless pups inside. There’s a creek full of fresh water not ten feet away and plenty of cover from the elements.
If there was a pack, they’d be here defending her pups.
Instead, there’s only me.
I guess that makes me her pack.
