Page 45 of Eco-Activist's Mountain Men
"Maybe he’s done away with her and buried the body somewhere," Toby quips.
"If it were you, I wouldn’t put it past you."
"Gee, thanks, brother."
"But Luke? No. He wouldn’t hurt a fly."
"True. Let’s go ask him. He’s probably in his shed with his precious chainsaws again."
The three of us cross to the chainsaw shed. Sure enough, Luke’s at the workbench, round file in hand, sharpening a chain. He looks up as we enter—me, Eric, Toby, and Southpaw padding close behind. The wolf noses insistently at Luke’s thigh.
"What’s going on?" Luke asks, setting down the file.
"We think Luna’s missing—" I start, but Southpaw beats me to it with another howl, long and mournful.
"Quiet now, Southpaw. Good boy," I say firmly. "Every damn time someone mentions her name, he starts up again."
Luke blinks. "Wait, you’re saying if someone says Luna he’ll?—"
Another howl splits the air.
"Oh. I see. Shit. Sorry."
"Not your fault," I sigh. "Okay, Southpaw, enough already. We get it—you’re worried. We’ll go look for her, alright?"
The wolf seems to understand. His ears perk, his bushy tail gives a small wag. Maybe relief, maybe agreement. Either way, blessed silence follows.
We check all the rooms again, just in case she’s crept back in without us noticing, but Luna’s nowhere to be found. By now,we’re all in agreement—no one’s seen her since she stormed out at breakfast.
None of us had gone after her.
No one says it out loud, but we’re all thinking it. Breakfast was hours ago. Anything could’ve happened to her in that time.
Where the hell has she been?
I hate even considering it, but there are bears in these woods. Wolves. Coyotes. The occasional mountain lion. We don’t tend to wander far on our own out here, and when we do, we take a rifle.
"Okay," I say at last, breaking the heavy silence. "Here’s what we’re gonna do. Toby, Eric—I want you two to take the main road and the side track down to the highway, alright?" They nod. "If she’s trying to get back to civilization, that’s where she’d be headed."
"Understood, boss," Toby says. Eric echoes him with a quick nod.
"Luke, you and Southpaw are with me. We’ll head up into the trees. Maybe she went for a hike and twisted her ankle again. Could be anything."
"Sure thing," Luke rumbles.
"Good. Thanks. Now listen—we’ve got, what… two, maybe two and a half hours of daylight left. We can keep going after dark, but the chances of spotting her drop real low. So let’s move."
Toby and Eric climb into one of the F-150s. They’ve got a lot of ground to cover, but at least the terrain is kinder that way. The storm damage along the road had been mostly cleared by Luke and Toby over the past few days, so they’ll be able to push the truck pretty far before they need to switch to foot.
Luke and I, on the other hand, set off on foot. The slopes here are too steep, too uneven for a truck, and even the ATVs would risk missing something important. If Luna’s down outhere, hidden in brush or lying at the base of a rockfall, we’d blow right past her in a vehicle. On foot, we can move more slowly, scan properly. It’ll cost us time, but thorough beats fast when someone’s life might be on the line.
We both know time isn’t on our side. We’ve each got a headlamp strapped to our foreheads, batteries fresh, so we can keep searching after dark. But that’ll only help if she’s conscious and able to call back. If she’s not…
I shove the thought away.
We shoulder rifles, as much for reassurance as protection. Out here, you never know what you might stumble on—especially in the dark. I’m carrying the Savage 100 Bear Hunter, same as Luke. It’s no fancy toy, but the .375 Ruger rounds will put down a black bear if it comes to that. I pray we won’t need them, but I’d rather have the weight across my back than not.
We move in single file: me first, Luke second, Southpaw padding silently behind. No talking. Not because there’s nothing to say, but because both of us are saving breath for the climb. Luke isn’t a chatterbox at the best of times, and besides, we already agreed on the plan. We’ll take the northwestern trail, steep and unforgiving. It’s the kind of ground that eats up the inexperienced, a place where one bad step can mean a busted ankle—or worse.
