Page 46 of Eco-Activist's Mountain Men
If she’d stuck to the gentler tracks, she’d probably be back already. But she isn’t. Which means she probably didn’t.
The sun is dropping fast when I call a halt by a massive granite boulder. Luke looks to me, and I point.
Leaning against the rock is something both of us recognize instantly.
"Her crutch," Luke confirms.
I nod, slow and grim. "So she did come this way."
"Yeah. Most likely ditched it so she could use both hands to climb."
"Yeah," I agree quietly. "Makes sense."
The real question burns between us: How long ago? And how far did she make it before… whatever happened?
Luke shrugs. "Only one way to find out, boss."
I let out a slow sigh. "Yeah. I know."
We each take a long pull from our canteens. Spirits lift a fraction—at least we’re on her trail now. But the light’s dropping, shadows stretching long. The ground ahead is steeper, rockier, more treacherous.
Traversing this terrain in daylight is hard work. At night, even for me—with my Ranger training—and for Luke, who’s been climbing these slopes since before he could shave, it’ll be brutal. Dangerous, even.
But there’s no point dwelling on it.
We’re going up.
I glance at my watch—seven-forty-five. It’s been about three-quarters of an hour since we came across Luna’s crutch leaning against the boulder. Still no sign of her. The sun’s already dropped below the line of trees to the west, and in another ten minutes it’ll be gone completely.
I sigh. No point pushing on in total darkness. Sure, we’ve got headlamps, but those only light the patch of ground in front of your boots. They’re useless for spotting someone lying in the shadows.
"Let’s go on for another fifteen minutes," I call back to Luke. "If we still haven’t found her, we’ll head down, get a few hours of shuteye, then come back first thing at daylight."
"Yeah, okay, Boss."
"You hear that, Southpaw?" I turn, but then freeze. "Luke… what’s up with him?"
The wolf stands stock still—rigid, every muscle taut, head lifted, nose twitching furiously.
"He’s scenting something," Luke mutters.
"Yeah. You think he?—"
"Look. He’s found it. A trail. A scent." Luke’s voice tightens with hope. "Good boy, Southpaw. Where is she? Where’s Luna?"
With a sudden bound, the great wolf is off—bolting uphill like he’s chasing fire, his paws a blur, his body moving with desperate, unstoppable purpose.
"Wait for us, Southpaw!" I shout after him, lungs already straining. "We can’t keep up at that pace!"
"She can’t be far," Luke says, already shifting into motion. "We should drop the rifles and packs. We’ll move faster."
I hesitate half a beat, then nod sharply. "Good call. I’ll keep the med bag, leave the rest. Go—don’t lose him."
Luke dumps his gear and takes off after the wolf.
"Don’t let him out of your sight!" I yell after him. He just throws up a hand in acknowledgment, too focused on the climb to waste breath.
I strip off my rifle and backpack, yank the waterproof medical kit free. Light enough to carry one-handed. Feels like nothing compared to the load I just shed. I clutch it by the handle and scramble forward, my other hand grabbing at roots, branches, and jagged rocks as I haul myself up the incline—every stride an effort to keep Luke in view.
