Page 10 of Mountain Man's Dream

The absence of Glen's warmth against me pulls me out of a deep sleep. Outside the tent I hear something moving and Glen muttering low.

It's still pretty dark, but I can tell the sky is beginning to lighten. Still, it's hard to find clothes without turning on a light and something about the quiet movements outside have me wanting to keep my movements discreet.

After a little blind searching, I find something I can put on and then carefully creep toward the door of the tent that's still hanging open.

When I poke my head out, I see Glen's eye trained carefully on something outside of camp. He looks determined and on edge.

"Stay in the tent, Sugar"

He waves a hand behind his back, indicating I should stay put but it's too late. I've already climbed out of the tent, wrapped in nothing but his flannel that's somehow huge on me and hangs to my knees with my hiking boots slipped on over my bare feet.

The remnants of our fire are still burning, I can hear the glass-like tinkle of embers smoldering under the top layer of coals that have cooled to a deceptive gray in the cold air over night.

At first, I don't see what Glen's attention is focused on.

Coming up to him, he catches me with his hand and pushes me back, keeping me behind his wide body as if he's protecting me from something.

Then I see it.

"Is that..."

No. It can't be.

It's definitely canine, but much larger than any wolf species I'm familiar with. The fur is black as coal with eyes that reflect red in the smoldering remains of last night's fire-- giving off the eerie effect of glowing.

Last night, when Glen said that it really was wolf song that I heard, I didn't expect them to be so close. Now, seeing the creature that watches us from the edge of the forest, feelings of both panic and awe war inside me.

It wasn't my plan to make a career out of looking for the most legendary creatures that excite my colleagues in the cryptozoology field-- this Sasquatch lead was a fluke-- the wolf that takes a brazen step out of the shadows toward us now...

I tell myself I'm being ridiculous-- it's crazy enough to discover there really is an undocumented wolf population in these mountains-- this is just an ordinary wolf. It has to be. Anything else would be beyond cryptid, and edging into crazy.

Next thing you know, I'll be looking for unicorns.

Nope. Nope. Just a wolf. A really big, scary wolf that isn't even supposed to exist in these mountains and doesn't seem all that bothered by the huge man standing off against it with the short-handled hatchet in his hand that he used to cut up the firewood with last night.

Glen

The thing and I stare each other down for what seems like ever but as soon as Finch climbs out of the tent, its focus zeroes in on her.

The last time I saw one of these things was the last time I ever set foot in this section of forest. One wolf encounter was more than enough to convince me there was a damn good reason the weeping wilderness earned its name and deserved to be left off limits to humans.

I don't know what I'll do if it attacks; wolves rarely hunt alone and that knowledge has my hackles up, worried we're about to get ambushed from behind.

One thing is certain, I'll die fighting if it means keeping Finch safe. There's no way I'm going to let anything touch her but me.

Thing is, this guy doesn't act like he's hunting.

The beast shifts its eyes back on me and takes a step closer, watching to see if I'm going to threaten it.

"Don't move, Sugar," I warn, "not a muscle."

"You know I have an undergrad in zoology, right?" Finch whispers, standing statue still behind me. "I know a wolf's prey instinct is triggered by movement."

The dog looks back at Finch and the uncanny feeling that it understands our words sends a creeping feeling tingling up my spinal column as it tilts its head just a bit.

Another step toward us, and it's easy to tell that its coat is as dark as the shadows it's stepped out of. At least the eyes don't have that eerie red glowing effect to them now. Must have been a trick of the dying fire and the predawn light.

It's still fucking huge though, and it sure as hell doesn't seem scared of me.

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