Page 31 of High Intensity

Walking up to her, I put a hand on her back and tilt my head upward.

“What’ve you got, girl?”

“I smell it again,” Wolff says from behind me. “Something burned at some point.”

This time I detect it too; the way your clothes smell after sitting by a campfire. “Someone made a fire,” I conclude out loud.

“Jillian, come have a look at this.”

As I turn to him, Wolff is taking a few steps back and peering up. I move to stand beside him and follow the direction of his gaze. The ridge is steep, but not impassably so, and as I’m looking up, I’m noticing some ledges and crevices that would make good foot or handholds.

“You think she climbed up there?”

He shrugs and looks at me. “Your dog seems to think so.”

Yeah. She does. Her focus on something—or someone—overhead is unwavering.

Wolff walks up to Hunter, who is still pacing back and forth and seems to be searching for something—or someone—overhead. Then he leans his butt against the rock and proceeds to take off his snowshoes.

“What are you doing?”

He lifts his head. “I’m gonna have a look.”

“And how much climbing experience do you have?” I ask with a hefty dose of sarcasm.

Then I reach in my backpack and pull out my flexible climbing shoes, waving them at him. I have plenty of experience and he knows it from last year’s search with Emo.

“Besides,” I add, as I pull my left foot out of my boot and fit on the flex shoe. “You’d probably scare her. I know I’d be, if I were a traumatized, eleven-year-old girl, encountering a strange, tall man wearing a scowl in the middle of the wilderness.”

I do the same with the other and leave my boots attached to the snowshoes. Already I can feel the cold seeping into my toes.

“I don’t scowl.”

I pause to shoot him a “yeah-right” look.

“Hunter, you stay, girl.” Then I turn to Wolff. “Give me a foot up, will you?”

Not that I need it—I see plenty of footholds to get me up on this big boulder—but I don’t want to make him feel useless either. He does as asked, pressing his back against the rock, and folding his hands for me to step on. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t enjoy the brief interlude of suspension, where I brace myself on his shoulders and my eyes lock with his.

Then suddenly he hoists me up and the moment is broken as I scramble onto the boulder. From this vantage point I can see what’s above me a little better. One of the crevices I noticed earlier looks a little larger than I thought. The shadows seem darker. Deeper.

It’s not a difficult route to get up there and I reach for the first handhold as I start making my way toward it.

“Careful,” I hear from below.

I’m sure it goes against everything that is Lucas Wolff to stand by and watch me do this.

“Always,” I reassure him.

It’s an easy climb to get to the narrow ledge. I grab on with my hands and heave myself up.

The first thing I notice is the campfire smell, which is much stronger here. Up close I can see the actual crevice is maybe a foot-and-a-half high and four feet long. However, trying to look into the dark interior, I get the sense it’s roomier inside.

A slight shuffling sound from the shadows has me rear my head back, and I almost lose my balance. I should’ve been more careful; this is just the kind of hiding spot where wildlife likes to shelter for the winter.

Wildlife, or scared little girls.

“Hayley? Is that you?”

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