But then Ben gasps. “A deer!”
Sure enough, there’s a deer maybe thirty yards ahead. Just standing there watching us with those big dark eyes.
“Stay still,” Marco whispers. “Let me get a better look.”
He moves toward a small rise to the left. Higher ground for a better view.
I hear the soft mechanical sounds of him loading the shotgun. The slide of shells being pushed into the magazine. The distinctive click-clack of him chambering a round.
Standard hunting practice, I guess. You don’t load until you’re ready to potentially take a shot. And you definitely don’t chamber a round until you’re in position.
The safety’s still on, though. I can tell by the way he’s holding it. Finger off the trigger. Muzzle pointed safelyaway from us.
Everything by the book.
I keep my hand on Ben’s shoulder. We watch the deer together. It’s actually kind of beautiful. Peaceful even.
See? Nothing to be afraid of. Just Bambi doing Bambi things.
Will Marco live up to his end of the bargain? Will he check with Ben before making the kill?
And then I hear it.
A sound from the brush.
Heavy. Moving.
The deer’s head snaps up. Then it bolts.
Three sharp whistle blows pierce the air. Marco’s signal.
Freeze.
Time does that thing where it slows down and speeds up simultaneously.
I spin toward the sound, and that’s when I see it clearly.
Oh no.
Oh fuck no.
A massive shape shoulders through the undergrowth. Dark fur. Huge. Moving with terrifying purpose.
A bear.
A FUCKING GRIZZLY BEAR.
Brown fur matted with rain that’s just starting to fall. And it’s not running away.
It’s comingtowardus. Me and Ben. While Marco’s still on the hill.
My brain shorts out. Every wilderness safety protocol Marco drilled into me just evaporates. All I can remember is one thing.
Don’t run. Don’t run. Don’t run.
“Frederick fell,” Ben says, starting to bend down.
“NO.” I clamp onto her arm. Probably too hard. “Eyes on me. Right now. Don’t move!”
