“Listen, Babe. I want you to take a breath. Don’t move.” He surveyed the surrounding area. “Do everything I say and you’ll be okay.”
The moose stamped again. More huffing. Big Boy clocked in at almost seven feet. If he trampled Neve, she’d be in serious trouble—life-threatening trouble.
She whimpered. The moose tossed his shaggy head.
A plan took shape. “Behind you, on the left, is a wooden fence. It’s not tall. From there is a forested slope down to the river. On my command, you’re going to run as fast as you can, get over that fence and behind a tree.”
That way if the moose charged, there would be not one but two barriers to keep her safe while he figured out a distraction.
“You can do this.”
“Thanks for the confidence vote, but I don’t think I can. My legs are jelly. I might pass out.”
“You can and you are. Remember how you whipped my ass in that race?”
No response.
“Neve.” That was an order. “Stay with me.”
“I just nodded. You just couldn’t see it because there’s a giant moose blocking the view.”
She still had spunk. That counted for something.
He raked fingers through his hair, his hand not quite steady. “Do what I say. I’ll take care of the rest. Nothing bad will happen to you. Trust me.”
She sniffled. “I do.”
The moose kicked out a back leg again. Its long black tongue came out to lick its nose and mouth.
“These things are vegetarian, right?” she asked.
The two bristle-haired ears flattened, the thick hair along the back rising in hackles. Tor didn’t need Animal Planet to inform him that this was a clear sign of agitation being replaced by aggression. The moose had two choices, flight or fight. Big Guy appeared to be leaning toward the latter.
“Go,” Tor barked sharply. “Go now. Head down, ass in gear.”
Neve took off like a shot. He could hear her shoes crunching up the trail.
The moose whirled its big head and Tor picked up a rock, threw it away from the river, away from Neve.
“Hey, you. Pick on someone your own size.” Okay, not his finest line, but it didn’t matter. The moose didn’t speak English. But it did appear to understand a loud, deep voice.
He’d gotten its attention. Neve jumped the fence as the moose turned to face him. No huff this time. This sound was more of a... growl.
Shit. Moose growled? There was a fun fact he’d never needed to discover.
As for his lame “pick on someone your own size” comment, the moose rose a foot above him. Not only did the hairy bastard growl, it looked smug about the size difference.
The only choice was to channel the biggest badass he could think of. An image of Samuel L. Jackson fromSnakes on a Planecame to mind. Good ’nuff.
The moose lunged, as if in a charge. Somewhere from behind the shrubby willows, Neve screamed.
The moose pulled up short. Lifted its great shaggy head and sniffed the air.
A fake out. Well played.
It cocked its head, turning its gaze to him. From end to end, the spread of the animal’s antlers must be at least equal to his own height of six-two.
Christ, what did one do with a moose charge? Was it like a grizzly attack, where you were supposed to fall over and play dead? Or was it more of a black-bear situation, where you should fight back?
