Free Web NovelChapter 94: Chapter 94 - Wilds On Trail
Multiple shots rang out, clean and controlled, spaced just far enough apart to be purposeful rather than panicked, each crack tearing through the trees with brutal clarity.
Coyotes dropped around her.
Her knees finally gave way. The strength drained out of her all at once and she collapsed into the freezing water, gasping as the shock stole what little air she had left, her heart pounding so hard it drowned out everything else.
Then hands were on her.
Strong arms hooked beneath hers and hauled her upright, pulling her free of the creek in one decisive motion. She staggered as her boots found snow again, soaked clothes dragging heavy against her legs, every step clumsy and delayed as the cold sank deeper, past skin and muscle, straight into bone.
Malcolm’s voice cut through the noise, close now, sharp and grounded.
"You okay?"
She nodded immediately, before her thoughts could catch up, jaw clenched too tight to trust herself with words. Her fingers throbbed violently, blood smeared across her knuckles and palm, but the numbness made it impossible to tell how bad it was.
Fenigan strode past them, rifle still warm in his hands, expression hard as stone. He kicked one of the fallen coyotes aside with his boot, the body rolling limply through the snow.
"Shit," he muttered. "We need to go. Now."
His gaze flicked to the cart, to the mule stamping nervously, to the stacked meat bundled tight beneath canvas and rope.
"They can smell it," Aaron said from behind them, voice tight. "Every damn predator out here probably knows where we are by now."
Malcolm did not answer.
He closed his hand around her arm instead, grip firm and anchoring, and started moving without hesitation. Iyisha stumbled alongside him, teeth chattering uncontrollably, breath breaking in sharp frozen bursts that burned her chest. Water streamed from her clothes with every step, the weight pulling her down, slowing her despite her effort to keep up.
Her bitten hand throbbed in time with her pulse, heat and pain fighting the cold. Her whole body ached, exhaustion and shock settling in heavy layers now that the immediate danger had passed.
Malcolm did not stop until he had her inside the tent.
The flap dropped behind them, cutting the wind, cutting the noise, and the space immediately filled with her chattering breath and the sharp wet smell of cold river water and blood. He turned her gently but firmly, hands already moving, already working.
"Sit," he said. freewēbnoveℓ.com
She obeyed without argument, knees buckling as she dropped onto the bedroll. Her teeth would not stop clacking, her whole body trembling hard enough that it shook the canvas around them.
Malcolm crouched in front of her and started stripping her gear away with quick efficient movements. Pack off. Gloves gone. Jacket peeled back and dragged free. The soaked fabric resisted, stiff and heavy, but he worked through it without hesitation, pulling until it slid loose and hit the ground with a wet thud.
She sucked in a breath when the cold air hit her skin, arms wrapping around herself instinctively.
"Hey," he said quietly, hands already there. "Stay with me."
He grabbed a dry shirt and shoved it over her head, tugging it down fast, rubbing warmth into her arms with strong hands as he went. Another layer followed, thicker, rough wool pressed close, trapping heat against her skin. He wrapped her in a blanket next, tight and secure, pulling it around her shoulders and tucking it in like he meant to keep the cold out by force.
Her shaking was violent now, teeth rattling uncontrollably, breath breaking in short sharp gasps.
Malcolm pressed his forehead briefly to hers, grounding her. ƒrēewebnovel.com
"Breathe," he told her. "Slow."
Outside, voices cut through the night.
"Radio’s live," Aaron called. "Base, this is Fenigan. We have hostile wildlife contact. Multiple predators. We need pickup now."
Static crackled back.
Malcolm reached for her hand then, the injured one, his touch careful but certain. He inspected it quickly, eyes narrowing at the bite marks and torn skin.
"You’re lucky," he said. "Didn’t hit bone."
He cleaned it fast, firm pressure, ignoring her flinch, then wrapped it tight, snug enough to support but not cut off circulation. He checked her fingers one by one, flexing them gently until she nodded that she could feel them.
Fenigan’s voice cut in from just outside the tent, low but urgent, carrying through the canvas without needing to be raised.
"Malcolm, we can’t stay," he said. "Dogs are already here. Don’t know what else that smell’s going to pull in."
There was a brief pause, then the edge in his voice sharpened.
"We move now."
Outside, the camp shifted into motion.
Canvas snapped. Gear clattered. The mule snorted as the harness was tightened. Fenigan barked orders, Aaron moving fast beside him, both of them shoving and securing the sled loaded down with meat and hides.
"It’s too heavy," Aaron said. "We won’t outrun anything."
"We don’t have to," Fenigan answered. "Road’s close. Truck’s on the way."
Malcolm pulled Iyisha to her feet. She swayed, knees weak, but he stayed close, one hand steady at her back.
"Can you walk," he asked.
She nodded. Her voice failed her, but her body leaned forward anyway.
They moved out together.
The cold still clung to her, but the shaking had eased, reduced to a constant tremor that lived deep in her muscles. Every step hurt, but she took them anyway, breath puffing white in the dark.
The mule took the front of the sled, boots digging into the snow as they pushed and hauled, straining against the weight. Fenigan and Aaron helped and pushed.
Iyisha forced herself to keep pace, legs stiff, jaw locked, refusing to slow them down. She stayed on her feet. She pulled her weight.
Malcolm moved just ahead of her, scanning the tree line, rifle up, posture coiled and alert. He checked behind them, then the sides, then back again, never stopping, never relaxing. Every few steps his hand brushed her elbow or her shoulder, a silent check.She nodded each time.
They didn’t step onto the road right away.
They held at the edge of the trees, bodies pressed into shadow, hands tight on their guns, listening. The forest felt wrong now, too open, too alert, as if the noise and blood had carried farther than they could see.
Iyisha’s eyes kept moving, not just for people who might circle back, but for anything else that might have picked up the trail. Animals. Shapes. Teeth in the dark.
The road broke through the trees like a promise, dark and flat and exposed.
They waited.
Only when headlights cut through the forest did they move, a pickup rolling in slow and deliberate, engine growling low, the sound solid and unmistakably theirs. They came out together, fast and controlled, covering angles until the sled was hitched and the last of the gear was hauled in.
They did not stop moving until it was done.
Only then did Malcolm let himself stand close again, body angled toward her, blocking the wind, one hand near his weapon, eyes still scanning the dark as if daring anything else to try.
Iyisha stood there shaking but upright, soaked replaced by dry, wounded but breathing, cold but alive, held together by layers and grit and the steady presence at her side.
