Page 85 of A Rebel's Shot

Not like this.

A few deep breaths later, he forced himself back into action. Rushing forward, he scanned the ground, desperate for any sign of her. His heart raced as he kicked aside branches, examining every inch of the area.

“Come on, come on,” he muttered under his breath, frustration boiling over as he searched. “Where are you?”

He sat back on his heels and roared her name into the air, agony and anger vying for dominance.

When he found that bear, he’d kill it.

His legs quaked as he pushed to his feet and yanked his knife from the scabbard at his waist.

“Tiikâan.” His name whispered through the wind, taunting him.

He scrubbed the tear that raced down his cheek with the back of his hand and turned to the bear’s trail.

“Tiikâan!” Merritt’s yell rushed to him from below, not from the woods.

He shoved his knife back in the scabbard, dropped to his knees, and peered down the fissure.

“Where are you?” Desperation clawed at his throat as he leaned over the edge.

His heart raced, anticipation thrumming in his chest like the wings of a trapped bird. He peered into the darkness, the cold air rushing up to meet him, biting at any exposed skin.

“I’m right here! In the fissure!” she shouted, and his stomach dropped with relief and dread.

“Are you hurt?” He scanned the rocky walls of the crevice, terrified of what he might find.

“N-no.” Even though her voice trembled with uncertainty, his breath whooshed out of him in relief.

He reached for the rope, only to groan in frustration that it wasn’t draped across his chest.

“I’ll be right back,” he hollered down to her.

He sprinted back to where he’d tied the rope to the sturdy tree, his heart pounding in his ears as he moved. Each step sent fresh waves of pain through his body, but he pushed through it, focusing on the fact Merritt needed him.

Arriving at the tree, he quickly untied the rope andwrapped it back around his arm while he rushed back through the forest. With a firm grip, he gathered the makeshift harness in his hand and made his way back to Merritt.

Soft cries reached up from the fissure.

“Merritt?” he called as he got closer to the edge, peering down into the dark. “I’m gonna drop the harness to you. You’ll need to slip it on and climb out.”

“I’m wedged in here. I’ll have to climb up. I don’t think I can.” The last word choked out on a sob.

Her fear settled in his gut again. “I’ll get you out of there, but you have to do what I say.”

“Okay.” Her voice trembled, but resolve instantly echoed through it. “Just hurry.”

Tiikâan nodded, heart pounding as he lowered the rope into the fissure. The length of it uncoiled from his hands like a lifeline, vanishing into the darkness with a slight fluttering sound. Half of the hundred-foot length had fed down before it went slack.

“I’ve got it.”

“Step into the harness once you get it,” he called down.

“I can’t do this!” Merritt’s voice was strained, echoing with fear and disbelief.

“Yes, you can,” he urged, desperate but steady. “You have to focus on my voice. You’re strong, remember? You’ve already faced so much.”

“I’m not as strong as you,” she stammered, breath hitching. “What if I fall again? What if I let go and?—”

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