Page 11 of A Bloom in Winter

More coyotes came out of the blizzard.

Mahrci panted and tried not to focus on how wet her glove was, how much blood was staining the snow, how light-headed she was getting—

“Heeeeeeeeeeeelp!” she called out for no reason.

Was this how she was going to die? Out in a goddamn snowstorm, at her father’s pretentious summer retreat, in the dead of winter?

And now she knew why it wasn’t “the living” of winter.

She jabbed the tiny little blade at the snarling jaws that popped up over the lip of the platform and disappeared. With every jump, they got a little higher, and she had the sense she was being toyed with: The platform was just four feet off the ground. They could get at her if they wanted—

“Fuck you!” she hollered as she stabbed at air.

She kept cursing and thrusting with the blade. After everything she’d been through,thiswas the way she went out? After all the shock, all the indecision, all the panic and confusion—and then what she’d done just before she’d left Caldwell?

Her death came by being torn apart by feral border collies?

“I hate you!” she yelled as her eyes flooded with tears that had nothing to do with the cold, the snow, the wind.

Or even the coyotes.

Meanwhile, the predators were not impressed with her defense. They had clearly done this before, circling their prey, closing in that circumference, their bright, greedy eyes locked on their meal, those open jaws chattering as they chuffed and howled in excitement, in the storm, in the snow.

Her tears burned as they froze to her cheeks—

The final attack was like a lightning strike, four of them coming forward on the compass points and jumping right up onto the platform like it was nothing to them. Because itwasnothing to them.

Suddenly, there were teeth everywhere, going for her ankles and calves, her lower body, her arms. She stabbed what she could, knowing she had to stay on her feet, but they anticipated her every move—and she was lost in this knife fight between their sharp canines and the camping blade that she’d taken with her on a whim—

The bite locked on her Achilles tendon, and pain lanced through her whole body. Howling, she twisted around and tried to go after the mottled flank with her “weapon,” but her balance tilted and she started to fall.

Pinwheeling her arms, she couldn’t catch herself, especially as the coyote yanked back and took her foot out from under her. The world spun as she lurched off the platform, and there was plenty of snow to receive her, the pack zeroing in instantly as she hit it.

Mahrci landed badly on her arm, and lost her breath. Trying to stay conscious, she flopped onto her back and fumbled with the knife. As she looked up, all she saw were the bared teeth in those muzzles, the rapt eyes, the greedy, licking tongues that were tasting her flesh already. With a weak hand, she waved the blade around, and she gasped for air to reinflate her lungs.

She screamed one last time, into the darkness, into the blizzard—

No, wait. That sound wasnotcoming from her.

The coyote who was closest to her face, the one who was the most aggressive and had attacked first, was suddenly gone. Yanked backwards into the storm.

And then—he somehow went flying over her? Like . . . airborne?

The pack wheeled around, those deadly muzzles swinging away from her.

That was when she heard the growling. Deep and low: A bigger, far more dangerous beast altogether.

The snow was falling in such heavy sheets it was hard to see, but something was looming—and then it was attacking.

Another coyote was dragged out of sight, and the yelping was loud enough to carry over the wind.

All at once the whole lot of them growled at something she could not see—and surged in unison out of view.

Mahrci didn’t understand what was happening, but funny how your survival instinct kicked in and didn’t ask a lot of questions. She needed to get off the fucking ground. That was the only thing that mattered.

Dragging herself back to the platform, she grabbed on to the rough boards and hauled her body upward.

As the wind relented for a moment, what she saw . . . made no sense.

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