Page 72 of A Rebel's Shot

All she saw on the map was the sprawling space between them and the nearest village. For hundreds of miles, there was nothing but mountains and tundra.

How would they ever make it? And more importantly, how could anyone possibly find them?

TWENTY-SEVEN

Merritt’s gaze pressed into Tiikâan’s back as he slung his pack over his shoulders. He ignored it, along with the gnawing ache in his knee and the fresh grizzly print that had overwritten his from the night before.

No sense in worrying her with things beyond their control, especially with her fear of bears.

He’d already decided they wouldn’t be following the river for long, not with the dense, almost junglelike growth lining the banks. Reaching higher ground was paramount. Not only for visibility but for their sanity.

“Ready?” he asked, not turning.

“As I’ll ever be.” The tremor had him smiling at her and offering her his hand.

As soon as she was steady, he squeezed her fingers.

“We’re gonna be okay, Skeeter.”

“I know.” She smiled, but the worry in her eyes remained.

He kissed her forehead, lingering for a moment, drawing strength from her nearness. “Let’s go.”

Turning, he led them along the base of the mountain, searching for a break in the towering cliffs. The going was tough, the forest floor a tangled mess of deadfall and thick moss that swallowed their boots with every step.

His knee throbbed with each movement, a dull ache that intensified to a sharp stab whenever his foot landed on uneven ground. He ignored it, focusing on putting one foot in front of the other, keeping a watchful eye out for any sign of danger.

The forest was eerily silent, save for the crunch of their boots on dry leaves and the rush of the river. A shiver ran down his spine, raising goosebumps on his arms despite the exertion of their climb.

Something wasn’t right.

He scanned the undergrowth on either side of the faint game trail he found. The hair on the back of his neck prickled at the lack of birdsong, the absence of any small creatures scurrying through the underbrush. Even the squirrels seemed to have deserted this part of the forest.

His eyes narrowed, searching for any sign of movement, any clue as to why this place felt so… off.

“Everything okay?” Merritt’s quiet question startled him.

“Yeah, just—” He looked back at her, his breath catching in his throat. Her eyes were wide with concern, her gaze fixed on something behind him.

He whirled around, his hand instinctively going for the hunting knife sheathed at his hip. “What is it?”

“Nothing. Just… this place. It feels weird, doesn’t it? Like something’s watching us.” Her words echoed his own unease, sending a chill racing down his spine.

He scanned the trees again but couldn’t shake the feeling they weren’t alone. It was one thing to be hypervigilant, attuned to every sound and movement of the forest. This was something else entirely… a primal instinct screaming at him to get Merritt out of there.

Now.

“Let’s keep moving.”

His voice sounded strained even to his ears. He tightened his grip on her hand, urging her onto the game trail leading up the mountain, picking up the pace.

The trail became steeper, the trees thinning slightly as they ascended. Blown over trees littered the path. Stifling his groans every time he climbed over a trunk was getting darn near impossible.

Loose rocks skittered down the incline with each step, the sound echoing as the rocks bounced down the slope. Tiikâan’s heart hammered against his ribs, a drumbeat of anxiety that matched the increasing ache in his knee.

“Careful.” He warned as a rock broke loose beneath his foot.

A high-pitched shriek pierced the air, followed by the sickening crunch of what had to be snapping bone and the heart-stopping thud of a body hitting the ground.

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