to bend out of the way. She poked a leg outside, followed by her head and shoulders. “The deer is okay, too. But I have to make sure.”
Her brave voice was swallowed by the overwhelming silence of a north woods night. She stood, inhaling the clear cold air. The forest was all around her. The scent was impossible to describe—nothing like the little pine-tree air freshener that hung from the rearview mirror. She could only define it as green. Earthy. Alive. But it wasn’t as quiet as she’d first thought. There were all sorts of sounds—rustling and chattering and an eerie creaking that accompanied each gust of the chilly breeze.
She swallowed nervously. “Nothing to be afraid of. Safe as houses.” With a hollow chuckle at the inappropriate expression, she crunched through the brush to check out the front of the car. The bumper was jammed into a huge fallen log. A jagged chunk had been torn out of the mossy bark, revealing a gash of fresh orangy-yellow wood so punky the splinters crumbled at her touch.
A long shallow dent creased the auto’s hood. She ran her hand along it and found a clump of hair caught in the grill. Coarse, reddish-brown hair, the silkier ends tipped in gold.
“But no blood,” she said, her stomach dropping all the same. She’d never forgive herself if—
“Don’t even think it. Just go and look.”
Claire returned to the open car door and reached inside to flick off the headlights, which weren’t illuminating much besides the fallen log. Still, the depth of the blackness increased by another degree. For a few moments, she was nearly blind. Then her eyes began to adjust. Eventually she realized that the moonlight was bright enough for her to readily see the way. Through the tangled underbrush, the road was visible—a black expanse reflecting the silvery moonlight.
She gathered the car keys, the heavy sweater she’d thrown on the passenger seat—it was mid-May, but colder than she’d expected—and her handbag. Her baggage and laptop computer were safely stowed in the trunk. She slammed the door shut and set the locks, briefly considering her cell phone. She could dial 911. But this probably didn’t qualify as an emergency. If she found the deer injured, she’d call. Or she could backtrack a mile to the Buck Stop, probably doing her version of “whistling past the graveyard” the entire way. Someone there would know the procedure.
It wasn’t until she’d hiked a short way along the narrow sand shoulder of the road that she remembered the mother bear and her cub. Dread filled her at the chance they could still be lurking nearby. She froze, fists jammed into the pockets of her sweater, wanting nothing so much as to cut and run. Lock herself inside the car. If it was stuck, she’d call AAA. If there was no AAA, she’d stay right there till morning light.
Logically, she knew that the bears were long gone. Wild animals didn’t stick around to investigate car crashes. And there weren’t grizzlies in Michigan. Even in the Rockies, where they did have them, the odds of a bear attacking a human were greatly exaggerated. On one of her first assignments after the promotion, she’d studied up on grizzlies for a thorough recommendation on a mountain ski lodge that was now a Bel Vista luxury inn frequented by the rich and famous. After all, having a celebrity eaten by a bear would be a publicity nightmare. As an employee, she was more expendable.
Claire tried to laugh. Didn’t work. “No bears,” she said out loud. She knew that the sound of a human voice should scare them away. “No bears,” she repeated, raising the volume.
She took several steps. The noise was minimal in the soft sand, so she moved onto the blacktop, stomping her feet. “Here I am, Mama Bear, heading your way.”
The road curved just ahead. She thought this was approximately where she saw the deer, though it was difficult to tell when the landscape was unrelenting forest. The evergreen trees all looked the same, thick and black-green. The deciduous trees were sparse, not yet fully leafed.
Claire spun in a circle, batting away an annoying bug, then shrugged. There was no obvious sign of the accident. No skid marks. Even the place where she’d crashed into the woods looked relatively undisturbed, as if the dense vegetation had swallowed the car whole. How could she possibly find an injured deer?
Talking all the while, she walked slowly through the long weeds that choked the roadside, using a piece of deadwood to poke at the underbrush. A small animal scurried away, too quick and sneaky for her to catch a glimpse.
She shuddered, wanting to believe that the deer had escaped unharmed. Wanting even more to be able to return to the rental car and reverse it onto the road. And what the heck, while she was at it, why not turn around and drive back to the airport and pretend this was all a bad dream? Her health and optimism would return if she could simply go home to her family—never mind that her stress levels would be quadrupled by their clingy neediness.
Claire peered into the woods. A stand of slender gray poplars stood out against the conifers, striking a chord. This was where she’d seen the big mama bear, silhouetted for an instant against the pale trunks. She’d walked far enough. The deer must have bounded away, uninjured.
“Time to turn around,” she murmured.
A funny feeling tickled her spine, creeping upward to prickle the hair at her nape. Apprehension.
Her eyes searched the forest. Was that a path?
She stepped closer. It was a path. Crowded by saplings and fresh young ferns, nearly overgrown except for a narrow trail that led deeper into the woods. An animal trail, she supposed. Deer and rabbits followed trails. Did bear?
“If they do, I surely won’t.” Claire swung around to leave, only to realize that something large and hulking was approaching through the woods. How she knew, she wasn’t sure. Animal instinct, perhaps. The beast didn’t make a lot of noise. Barely a rustling of leaves. But it was there. And it was between her and the car.
The bear.
Icy fear gripped her, rooting her feet in terror. She didn’t dare break for the road, where she’d be openly visible. And she could not make herself plunge into the deep, dark woods. Instead she raised the stick she’d picked up, praying it was true that bears rarely attacked humans but ready to defend herself all the same.
The shadowy creature halted, obscured by a thicket of yellow sumac. The air crackled with their mutual awareness. Through the leafy screen, she detected a slight glint. Eyes. Watching eyes.
A sniffling sound, low to the ground, made every hair on Claire’s body stand upright. Claws scraped across stone. The cub!
In a flash, she remembered her research. Mother bears were notoriously protective of their cubs. But running might provoke an attack. She should slowly back away. If she could get her feet to move.
The brush began to part.
Don’t run, don’t run, don’t run.
A bloodcurdling yell might scare the bear away.
Claire opened her mouth. Out came a peep so pitiful it wouldn’t frighten a rabbit.
Terrified, she dropped her handbag with a soft thud and put both hands on her measly weapon. One foot slid backward, then the other.
The bear lifted its furry head. God, it was huge. Nearly seven feet.
It made a chuffing sound.
Suddenly the cub burst from the bush and charged toward Claire, cavorting like a puppy. Claire yelped
