the shore. She stuck to partridgeberries, which she recognized, and bright coral berries that seemed safe. But still her stomach roiled.
The dog watched her intently as she ate, and Amanda gave her a regretful smile. “Sorry, princess. I know I’ve fed you every day of your life, but this morning you’ll have to harness your wolf DNA and try to catch us something.”
Having seen refugees survive for days on the move without food, provided they had water, she knew she and Kaylee would manage. While she filled her water canteen, she took stock of her options. Tyler was her overwhelming concern. There was a terrified young boy on the loose in this wilderness, possibly injured or being hunted by the person who’d killed his father.
But she was surrounded by four or five hundred square miles of mountains, bogs, forests, and ponds. She had limited emergency supplies, no weapon, no navigational tools beyond her wits, and no idea where she was. In the twists and turns of her trek through the dense tuckamore, she could have been wandering in circles. She had heard no sounds of search helicopters or boats along the shore. If they were looking for her at all, they were nowhere near.
Common sense told her she should try to find the coast. From there, not only would she be more visible to searchers, but she might be able to find her boat and go for help. But it might take her a whole day to find the coast — twenty-four long hours in the life of a starving, frantic boy. Moreover, she didn’t know which direction led to the coast. With no compass, no sun, and no sound of surf, she could flounder in the bogs and tuckamore for days.
I need a good vantage point, she thought, peering through the trees at the surrounding hills. She headed toward the tallest one and soon found herself scrambling up the steep incline on all fours. As the trees grew shorter and sparser, the barren rock of the summit came into view ahead. I should be able to see for miles, she thought, quickening her pace eagerly. Beside her, Kaylee grew rigid. The hair on her back rose, but she made no sound.
“What is it, princess?”
Kaylee backed up, belly flat to the ground, and circled to cower behind her. Her every muscle radiated danger. Her own fear spiking, Amanda stopped to take in her surroundings. She could see nothing. She crept forward cautiously, keeping low under cover of the bushes. She peered over the boulder and froze. The rocky summit offered no shelter, and in among the sedges and dwarf berry bushes was a large black bear.
The massive, shaggy creature was on all fours, staring back at her.
Amanda ducked back behind the boulder and waited for her pulse to slow before risking another peek. The bear appeared to be alone, probably foraging for berries, but Amanda searched the shadowy undergrowth for signs of a cub. Kaylee stayed safely behind her, and Amanda offered a silent thanks to her for not racing out to bark. She tried to remember what she’d been taught about bears. First rule; never run away. The bear will chase, at speeds of up to fifty kilometres an hour. Keeping a watchful eye on the animal, she groped behind her to secure Kaylee on her leash.
Second rule; talk to it in a deep, calm voice and make yourself as big as possible. Easier said than done. She slipped her backpack off and balanced it on top of her head. Then she tried for as calm a voice as she could muster. “We won’t hurt you, Mr. Bear. We’ll just leave the hilltop to you.”
Third rule; back away slowly.
“Let’s go, princess,” she said, stepping backwards. One foot, another foot.
The bear huffed and swung its head back and forth. Kaylee yanked backwards, her nostrils flaring. The bear reared up.
Gripping the leash more tightly and struggling to keep the backpack raised, Amanda continued her careful retreat. Her foot slipped, sending rocks and gravel tumbling down in a rush of noise. She crouched, holding her breath as she listened for the bear’s charge. Nothing. She lifted her head to look. The bear hadn’t moved.
Amanda continued to talk in a quiet, level voice as she backed down the slope. Bit by bit she put distance between herself and the bear, until finally she reached the bottom of the ravine. Then she ran full tilt through the woods all the way back to the pond. Kaylee ran beside her, her tail tucked and eyes wide. When they reached the shore, Amanda collapsed on a rock to catch her breath. She waited and watched until she was sure the bear had not followed, and only then did she allow herself a nervous laugh.
“Well, princess, that idea was a bust!” she said. “Here we are back where we started. Any other bright ideas?”
Kaylee was drinking from a trickle of water seeping into the pond. Amanda’s hopes lifted. Streams flowed downhill toward the ocean. If she could find the flow of water leaving this pond, she could follow it, perhaps all the way to the ocean.
For what felt like hours, Amanda slogged around the perimeter of the pond, sometimes ankle deep in reeds and muck, following each trickle of water to its rocky end. Kaylee was bounding through the brush, tracking smells and chasing squirrels. Although Amanda paused often to eat berries, she was feeling light-headed by the time she came across a steady stream. She followed as it meandered through the berry bushes, wormed around boulders, and seeped through bright green moss. Afraid of losing it, she fought through brush and bog, tearing her clothes and flailing at blackflies. Blackflies, she thought with disgust. In September!
Finally she spotted a shimmer of water through a break in the trees ahead. Hallelujah! She quickened her pace, straining to hear the sound of surf and the cry of wheeling gulls. The water was too calm. Too silent. Maybe it was a protected inlet. Maybe the ocean lay just beyond the ridge ahead. Nature was so coy, hiding secret pathways through the faceless, lookalike land.
When she finally reached the edge of the water, she was gasping for breath and wet with sweat and swamp. She simply stood and stared.
Another pond. This one five times the size of the first. It would take hours to circle it in search of the exit stream. Useless, fucking waste of time! She roared her frustration aloud, her curses floating back to her across the rippling surface of the pond. She cupped her hands and shouted Tyler’s name. Nothing. A cluster of ducks quacked their anxious surprise in the tall reeds nearby.
Kaylee was paying them no attention as she roamed with her nose to the ground. “You’re a Duck Toller,” Amanda grumbled. A duck could be dinner for both of them, as could a fish or two from the pond if she could figure out how to catch them.
“Kaylee!” she shouted, waving in the direction of the ducks. “Go get it!”
Kaylee jerked her head up, ears cocked. She had something clamped in her jaws. Had she managed to catch something? Urgently Amanda called her and the dog bounded forward, still clutching the object in her mouth. She leaped nimbly over deadfall and dodged around rocks. As she came closer, Amanda could see the object, about the size of a football, was caked and sodden with black mud.
Kaylee dropped it at her feet triumphantly and stood back, tail wagging. Amanda bent to peer at it. A shoe! She rushed to the water’s edge to wash it off, revealing a black-and-khaki running shoe with a camouflage motif. With the mud washed off, it looked clean and new, as if it hadn’t been in the mud too long. Amanda compared it to her own foot, which was a woman’s size seven. This shoe was about the same size.
The size of a boy, not a man.
Her pulse quickened. Clutching the shoe, she began splashing along the path Kaylee had taken. The dog bounced beside her, clearly pleased with her trophy. Then she raced ahead to stand over a muddy hole.
Amanda studied the mud, which was criss-crossed with paw prints and gouges, but through it all she could clearly
