Page 1 of A Bear's Secret

Chapter One

Sloane

Sloane couldn’t rememberthe last time she’d been so excited to shower. She’d had a long, rough five days hiking through the southern end of the Cascades, and she couldn’t wait to wash the layers of sweat, dirt, sunscreen, and miscellaneous filth off of herself. With every step closer to her destination, she could practically feel the clean, warm water washing over her body, smell the soap and shampoo as they rinsed all the gross stuff currently on her into the drain.

Then, she was going to sleep in a real bed for two whole nights. When she’d started planning her months-long backpacking trip, two days at the Double Moon Ranch to recuperate had seemed totally overindulgent, and she’d worried over losing that hiking time. But now, two days at the ranch didn’t seem like nearly long enough.

Hiking down the mountain on its northeastern side, already in the shadow of late afternoon, Sloane could see the long, flat valley laid out in front of her, turning gold in the slanted sunlight. The spur trail to the ranch was a pretty easy one, and she was practically flying, especially compared to the last few days.

You can bail any time, she reminded herself. You don’t have to do this, you wanted to do this, on your insane ‘find yourself’ mission.

I think you’re pretty found, she thought. How much more can you sit around in nature and think?

Visions of warm water, washing over her, followed by a real meal and a soft bed danced in Sloane’s head as she barreled along, her pace only getting faster as she got closer to the promised land of creature comforts.

From the corner of her eyes, she saw a flash of bright blue. Only for a moment, and then it was gone.

Sloane stopped dead in her tracks. She couldn’t exactly say why, but that simple flash of blue was wrong somehow. Suddenly all her senses were on high alert, adrenaline prickling through her veins, and she couldn’t even say why.

Chill,she thought. Someone lost a hat or something and you happened to see it.

The hairs stood up on the back of her neck. Nothing had changed on the trail: a gentle breeze still blew through the summery forest, the leaves of the trees waving slightly back and forth, the smell of pine needles and dirt wafting through the air.

And yet, Sloane’s stomach clenched, and she looked around, her skin practically tingling with the knowledge that something wasn’t right.

Did I see a ghost? She wondered. I don’t really believe in ghosts, though.

Holding her breath, Sloane stepped to the side of the trail, peering through the trees, trying to find the blue thing again, scanning through the greens and browns and deep blacks of the forest, not sure what she was looking for and not really knowing why it was so important.

Stop freaking yourself out, she thought. You could be like fifty feet closer to a shower and dinner right now. Stop imagining weird stuff and move it, Garcia!

Instead she stood still, scanning the forest. It seemed like everything went quiet, all at once: the birds, the wind, the rustle of the leaves.

Sloane took one more step, and then she saw it. It was only a triangle of blue fabric, poking up above a fallen tree, the color loud against the muted earth tones of the forest.

It’s just a scrap of fabric that someone lost, Sloane thought. A hat or a glove or a piece of tent that got torn off. She tried to ignore the suddenly-heavy feeling in her gut. Carefully, she unstrapped her own pack and sat it on the forest floor, pushing aside branches and leaves, making her way toward the fallen tree.

Sloane felt drawn toward the downed tree and the scrap of fabric, like it had some magnetic draw on her. Somehow, she knew that it wasn’t a tent scrap or a hat or a glove, and as she approached, she held her breath, bracing herself against the terrible feeling that she was about to find something bad.

On the other side of the log was a boy.

There was no other word for him. He was adult-sized, but he couldn’t have been older than his early twenties, maybe. There was still baby fat on his cheeks.

For one quick, easy second, Sloane thought the guy was asleep. It almost made sense: he looked so peaceful, lying there next to a fallen tree, like he’d just wanted to grab a quick siesta in the middle of hiking.

But his head was at the wrong angle, one of his arms twisted oddly beneath him, his legs all akimbo.

Sloane’s hands started shaking, and she knelt on the other side of the log.

Don’t be dead,she thought. Please please please.

She held her breath and watched as his chest rose and fell very, very slowly.

Okay,Sloane thought. Okay. I can handle this.

She glanced back to her pack, up against a tree, right next to the path.

He collapsed while he was hiking, but he’s alive, and I’m going back to the trail and yelling for help, because every single wilderness survival guide out there says not to leave someone alone.

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