Finally, he moved deeper into the woods, searching for logs or fallen branches. Each piece he found, he leaned against a nearby tree so he could retrieve a full armload on his way back. This first trek, he needed to focus on scouting. Maybehe could find a better place for them to spend the night or, at the very least, a better area for Gulliver, since their patchy shelter would barely suffice for just the two of them.
As he walked, he kept his eye out for an ash tree. He’d not stopped to make snowshoes yet since there’d been no snow, but another day as harsh as this one would steal the last of his strength. Being able to walk atop the fluff on snowshoes would be a great improvement. Too bad he couldn’t make any for the mule.
He did his best to travel in a straight line, since the snow now concealed his view of camp. He’d not found a better shelter yet, but something told him to keep going. If he could just locate a boulder or maybe a creek bed with a patch of protected ground beside the bank . . .
At last, a large outline rose in the distance. He couldn’t make out its shape, but it didn’t seem to be part of the trees. Maybe a massive rock? He increased his pace, renewed hope sending a fresh wave of strength through him.
His foot snagged on a branch barely poking through the snow, sending him tumbling onto his hands and knees. He scrambled back to his feet. He would come back for that branch later, but for now the hope surging inside him built with each step.
He was almost certain now—they’d found a mountain. One that would likely have boulders or cliffs to protect them far better from the growing storm.
Charlotte spun as the sound of clomping drew near, loud enough to be heard even through the wind. Damienapproached in a half run, his earlier exhaustion nowhere to be seen. She tensed for whatever news he brought.
He arrived panting, but didn’t stop to address her, just moved to the skins he’d tied up and began releasing the knots. “There’s a mountain not far ahead. And a cave. A much better place to take shelter.”
Tension coiled inside her at the thought of climbing down another cliff like the one beside the lake. Surely that wouldn’t be necessary here.
Forcing her cold-numbed mind to think of what needed to be done, she eyed the fire. Could she stay by it alone? After all the work she’d put into building it, the thought of letting the blaze go out seemed a crime. Maybe she could move a few of the logs and keep them burning.
Within a few minutes, they had everything piled on the mule, and Damien carried a glowing log in each hand. He gripped each piece by the end that wasn’t burning, holding them straight up like torches. That tiny flicker licking each log would be blown out by the wind soon, but she could restart the fire from the coals once they were in the cave.
She and Gulliver followed in Damien’s footsteps through the trees. What little of her body that had thawed by the fire froze again with the buffeting gusts. At last, the form of a rising slope became visible through the snowfall. She tucked her chin deeper into her coat. When they left the trees and started up that mountain, the wind would blast even fiercer. Damien hadn’t said how high up the cave was, but they’d traveled farther than she’d expected already. The opening must be close.
As they started up the slope, he shifted his route to the right, taking an easier path than straight uphill. At last, hepointed one of the logs toward the rock. A dark opening appeared, and relief swept through her.
Damien paused before entering, and she stepped nearer to stand beside him. The height of the entrance rose just enough for him to step through without ducking. Hopefully it would be tall enough for the mule to join them, too.
He stepped inside, and she moved in after him. The relief from the wind was immediate, and she took in a deep breath of the still air. Perhaps that was a mistake, for she nearly coughed at the pungent smell of dank animal.
Damien raised the logs, but their faint glow illuminated only a tiny space. “I’ll get these lit so we can see more of the place.”
He moved a few steps farther in, then dropped to his haunches and laid the wood on the stone floor.
Charlotte turned her focus to the mule, who still stood at the end of his rope outside. She gave a tug. “Come on, fella. You’ll like it much better in here.”
The mule didn’t budge, bracing his legs instead. She leaned out into the weather to give his neck a pat. “Come, boy. The dark won’t hurt you.”
She eased the rope forward in a way that usually seemed to lessen the animal’s resistance. But Gulliver only stretched his neck as she pulled, leaning his body backward to resist. Maybe when the fire lit the space, Gulliver would be more amenable to entering. She patted him once more. “You’ll wish you came in sooner.”
As much as she hated to leave the mule out in the wind, even for a few more minutes, helping Damien with the fire would expedite things. She crouched beside the man as he blew a steady breath of air over the glowing coals.
He glanced up at her. “Do you want to work on this while I get more wood?”
She nodded and leaned in to take over blowing on the coals.
He slipped out into the storm, and by the time he returned, a healthy blaze licked at the two logs. The light it cast only spread to the cave wall on one side, so she couldn’t see how large this room was, or if any tunnels traveled deeper into the mountain. The place the logs sat might not be ideal for their campfire through the night. It was too close to the opening, which allowed a bit of wind inside.
Damien dropped his load of logs nearby, then scooped up two that had come from the dry pack. She raised a hand to stave him off. “Let’s move the fire over a little before you add wood.”
Gripping two unlit ends, she lifted them as torches like Damien had done, then turned toward the interior of the cave. “Maybe we can see how deep it goes.” She moved inward, Damien close behind her. She felt like an explorer of old, trekking deep into places never before seen by humans. Perhaps this cave fit that description exactly.
A sound drifted through the air, sort of a snuffle or faint growl. With the darkness around them, it was hard to determine which direction it came from. But the noise definitely wasn’t made by the man behind her. And it didn’t sound like the storm.
As she took another step forward—slower this time—the back of her neck tingled. Just because she couldn’t see what lay ahead in the cave didn’t mean it was a threat. Straightening her shoulders, she moved forward with more confidence.
Then another noise rumbled through the space around them. Definitely a growl this time, almost a roar.
She jumped backward as a squeal slipped out, then shereached for Damien. The pounding of her heart exploded to triple time. What would make such a ferocious sound?
