The sound is coming from the other side of the dilapidated cabin. Despite the heat, a cold chill runs up my spine and prickles the back of my neck. There’s a crash as the garbage can falls over. I’m not going to make it around the porch and inside if a bear comes charging around the side of the cabin.
Instinctively, I put my foot up on the porch railing and pull myself up so I’m clutching onto it. There’s a roof post next to me. The ledge sticking from the side might give me just enough of a foothold to get up onto the roof.
If I’m quick. And the ledge doesn’t break.
I heave myself up onto the roof, tearing one of the sleeves of my blouse. Darn. This is one of my favorites. I raise my hand to my mouth, chewing on my thumbnail.
Even though the sun is low in the sky, it’s still so hot that the roof feels like lava on my bare hands. I twist over onto mybutt, hugging my arms around my bunched-up knees. A trickle of sweat rolls down my cheek.
Why am I doing this? I could be back home listening to Mom and Dad bicker over which show to watch. Settle back into the familiar, tedious pace of the day. Write in my diary, sew napkins for the store, watch a show, browse the internet to waste time until sleep. Boring, but safe. Instead, I’m on a roof on the side of a mountain hiding from a bear.
Or bears.
I gulp. What if there’s more than one? Can bears climb?
There’s another crash, closer this time, and I take a deep breath. There’s nothing up here I could use to defend myself. There’s also a worrying-looking large hole right by the chimney. Maybe I could make it inside that way. But what if the bear follows me in?
An engine rumbles on the road. A big red truck turns into the long driveway that leads to my cabin and I start waving.
“Help!” I shout, even though I’m sure they can’t hear me. What if the driver gets out and the bear attacks them? The truck heads up the driveway and I flap my hands more frantically. The movement almost sends me flying off the edge of the roof and I grab onto the tiles to stop myself falling. A nail punctures the soft flesh between my thumb and pointer finger, and I wince.
Ouch.
The truck parks and I raise my other hand to shade my eyes against the still bright sun. I suck in my breath as the guy who gets out stands up. He’s hugely tall, with bulging muscles only barely contained in a plaid shirt with rolled-up sleeves. Those are the kind of muscles made from working outside all day, not lifting weights in a gym. Black hair, thick beard, broad shoulders; this man looks like he’s at home in these mountains.
My bleeding hand and the bright sun, plus all the adrenaline from scrambling to escape from the bear, makes me a little dizzy.
“Help!”
His eyes trail up to the roof and he strides over.
“What are you doing up there?” His voice is so deep it sends a thrill through me.
“Be careful! I think there’s a bear on the other side of the cabin!”
His face breaks into a smile. “Is that so?”
“I heard it hunting in my trash. That’s why I’m up here. Maybe you should get in your truck?” My voice sounds like it’s coming from far away.
“You stay right there, ma’am. I’ll go check.”
“Wait! I have some bear repellant in the house.”
He sets his hands on his hips, throws back his head and laughs. It’s a booming noise that seems to echo off the mountains. He shakes his head, still chortling, as he walks slowly around the cabin.
I hold my breath. What if he gets eaten? Why is he so unworried? Does he have a gun hidden somewhere inside that plaid shirt? Sweat rolls down my spine and I cradle my injured hand against my chest. This wasn’t how I pictured my first week at the cabin. I thought I’d be doing some minor repairs and then setting up my studio, not trying to evade wild animals and hurting myself.
My rescuer walks back around the side of the cabin with a large raccoon on his shoulder. It has one hand resting on his thick hair and it’s staring at me with a curious expression in its beady little eyes.
“Ma’am. Meet Albert.”
“Albert?”
“I named him after Einstein. This is the smartest critter in Snowflake Falls. Roams all over these woods, but usually finds himself back at my house often enough. Rescued him when he was just a kit.”
I shake my head. “So this is your fault. I mean, he’s your responsibility.”
The man laughs. “Nope. Albert’s actions are absolutely his own responsibility.”
