Page 26 of Out on a Limb

My legs shake as I stagger out of bed, cross the room and smack on all the lights. A warm glow fills the cabin, but as I look around, icy cold spreads through my insides.

Because it’s undeniable: all of Jana’s shit is gone. Her clothes, her backpack, her boots by the door. That library book she’s been reading, and her Flint’s polo neck that was hanging on the closet door to dry for tomorrow’s shift.

All gone.

Jana Kumara hasn’t just snuck out for a few hours in the dead of night.

Jana Kumara has left this cabin for good.

“No.” My voice is too loud in the quiet cabin, hoarse with emotion. “No. Fuck. Okay. Think, you asshole. Think.”

But loud, panicked buzzing swarms my head, and it’s harder than it’s ever been to string a thought together. All I can think is Jana, Jana, Jana.

You know, this lack of focus would have gotten me killed a thousand times over in the wilderness. Panic is a dangerous emotion; it gives people tunnel vision. Stops them from thinking clearly. Prompts them to make bad impulse decisions.

Like the decision to yank on a pair of jeans, shove my feet into my hiking boots, and crash out of the cabin door in the middle of the night in only a sweat-soaked t-shirt—chasing after someone who might not want to be found.

If the adventurer community could see me now, they’d all tsk and shake their heads.

But fuck all of ‘em. I need to find my girl.

* * *

Flint’s bar seems different late at night, without the lights and music and crowds. It’s stern and silent, shadowed against the stars. Almost like Flint himself is here, arms folded over his chest and one eyebrow raised in disapproval, watching as I break out of the trees and jog across the scrubby grass to the backdoor.

This building sits on the edge of town: one foot in civilization, one in the wilderness. It’s the perfect place for Jana Kumara to work, because she loves her hot showers and lazy Sundays in town, yes, but she’s a wildcat too. She needs the mountain breeze in her hair and sturdy rock beneath her feet. Both wilderness and creature comforts.

See, I know her. Inside and out.

And if I don’t find Jana soon, I’ll lose my mind. The longer we’re apart, the more I’m unraveling.

Besides, it’s not safe out this late. Not with wolves in the mountains and bears still awake at this time of year; not with hidden ditches to fall into and wasp nests to accidentally disturb. I’ve never cataloged all the dangers around Starlight Ridge before, but you’d better believe I’m listing them now, and with each new one my chest squeezes a little tighter.

Safe? They call this sleepy mountain town safe?

It’s a goddamn death trap.

The handle to the backdoor rattles in my hand, and though I grit my teeth and try to force it, the door won’t budge. Fine. I’ll break in if I need to, I’ll take whatever punishment Flint doles out, but maybe it won’t come to that.

Frost-covered grass crunches beneath my boots as I stride along the outside of the building, running one hand along the rough brick.

Back when I first found Jana sleeping in my bed, back when I caught her squatting all those lifetimes ago—she said something about sleeping in Flint’s office instead. Crashing in the backroom for the night, until she found somewhere else to stay.

Jana showed me her hand that day; she told me exactly where she’d flee in an emergency. Well, fucking noted.

My breaths form little clouds, and my chest heaves as I creep around the bar, peering into each window.

Nothing. Shadows and empty booths. There’s some kind of stockroom, with shelves of supplies. Then a cleaning closet. The frosted windows of a bathroom, and then—

A halo of warm light, spreading away from a desk lamp. I peer in at a bookcase crammed full of binders, an old-fashioned landline telephone, and a clock on the wall. Heart racing, I press closer to the window, squinting into the dim room, and all the while hoping and praying that it won’t be fucking Flint staring back at me.

But—

There.

A small body shifts on the office floor, disturbing the shadows. I’d know that figure anywhere, even curled on her side and piled with clothes to form a makeshift blanket.

Jana. Thank god.

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