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CHAPTER SEVEN

emma

Saturday Night

M y bacon sizzled in the cast-iron skillet, and a shiver moved through me as a breeze tiptoed down the back of my neck, reminding me of Logan’s tongue. At least the waterfall had been as gorgeous as it always was.

Absently, I wondered if Logan liked the outdoors, or maybe he would be into me in the outdoors. Figuratively and literally.

In another few weeks, the leaves would change, and the beauty would triple. It might be worth reaching out. Riley probably knew how to get ahold of him. For now, the big yellow moon beamed down on me, bright enough to cast my shadow over the log I sat on.

The song Harvest Moon by The Magic Lantern crooned on in my head in a romantic loop as I poured water from my canteen into the tin coffee pot my dad always used to make campfire coffee.

A fork never stood up in the extra-strong brew, but I’d decided it was a myth perpetuated by cowboy chuckwagon cooks and mountain men.

They all probably had some kind of magic I never did.

I picked at the bark still on my felled-tree seat while I waited for my water to heat up.

The cloudless sky showed as many of her stars as the bright moon allowed, and I snapped a picture of the moon, the stars, and the shadowed live oak trees, gnarled and alien-looking in the dark. The light from my cell phone screen seemed fake in the flickering firelight as I sent Mom the photo.

Mom: Oh! You remembered.

Me: I always do.

Mom: Not always.

Me: …

Mom: Looks like a beautiful night. The moon is so big. What do they call it?

Me: Harvest Moon.

Mom: You remember that song we found a few years ago… what was it?

Me: Lol. Harvest Moon by The Magic Lantern

Mom: I haven’t listened to that in ages.

Me: If only you were in my head. It’s playing on a loop.

Mom: What are those two light spots by the tree trunk shadows?”

Me: ? What two lights?

I opened the tree-shadow image and zoomed in to the space between the tree trunks. My heart slammed into my rib cage. Two luminescent eyes peered out from the blackness, reflecting the light from the fire.

I peered at the same spot, seeing nothing. What was out there?

Mom: Do you see what I’m talking about?

Me: Refractions from the firelight. There’s nothing out there.

I turned on the flashlight app, illuminating the now uninhabited spot.

Then I grabbed the defense baton from my pack, extended it as far as it would go, and jogged to the space in the picture.

Nothing sat there, so I took a picture to send to my mom as proof.

No need to worry her. What could she do from Willow Creek anyway?

No way I could calm her down and figure out how to avoid a mountain lion at the same time.

I added the new image to our text conversation.

Me: See?

Mom: I’m allowed to worry.

Me: I know.

Mom: Love you!

Me: Love you, too.

All lies! How could I tell my mother some creature had been staring at me?

It had been too dark to make out what it was in the first image, yet I knew, based on the way the foliage had been laid over, something had been there.

Even with the moon, what chance did I have in the dark against a mountain lion?

Even though I had texted each reassurance to my mother, I didn’t truly believe I was alone in the woods, so I crouched down. Carefully, with shaking hands, I stirred the dew-soaked grass, moving it aside.

Dammit. I needed the mace.

Four large feline paw prints rested in the dirt, like the ones I’d found on Redbud Trail. Why hadn’t it attacked me? Was it toying with me? It had to be, or I would have already been devoured.

Gingerly, I straightened and backed away, holding up the only defense I had now. Each step came slowly. I didn’t want to risk triggering the big cat’s pounce response. When I reached the log, I eased down onto the crumbling trunk.

Groping in the dark until my hand closed around my pack, I pulled it onto my lap. The mace was in the easy-access side pocket. That should be enough to deter a semi-curious, maybe a little snack-ish mountain lion, right?

But my fingers found nothing except an empty canvas pocket.

My heart clenched and then raced. The mace wasn’t where it should be. Had it fallen out in the car when I had loaded the back? Jumped out on Redbud Trail? Had I gone the whole way without it? Adrenaline coursed through my body as my blood surged through my veins. I had to check the car.

When I stood, my knees shook, threatening to send me back to the ground. The snap of a twig made me flinch, but nothing registered in my vision. A big cat wouldn’t make that mistake. I told myself it was an opossum or an armadillo.

Ten more halting steps brought me to the edge of parking pad. Cold sweat slicked my skin, and I wiped my palms on the thighs of my cargo pants.

Had the rangers already made their rounds? I hadn’t gotten back until after dark, and I hadn’t seen them at all. Had they even bothered to check Site 52 after I had promised I had mace?

Mentally, I kicked myself over and over. What a rookie mistake! As a loner, pack-checks were as important as water. The hell had I done?

With a muted click, I opened the rear hatch of my crossover. The dome light came on, blinding me from seeing anything beyond the car.

There !

The can of mace had rolled across the back until it had stopped in the groove between the folded-down rear seats and the back of the car. My defense baton wouldn’t work to get the smooth cylinder out of the groove. It had to be me.

My grip tightened on the defense baton, but it was longer than the width of the rear of my car, and it made it distractingly awkward to climb in.

Another scan of the surroundings didn’t reveal my stalker, so I lifted my knee to climb into the back of my car, hoping the mountain lion had already moved on.

That was when the mountain lion charged.

A huge paw hooked my leg and drew it out from beneath me, knocking me down to the pavement. The massive claws sliced through my skin, and I cried out. My defense baton shot from my hand and rolled beneath the car while I scrambled to all fours, expecting the final moment any moment.

But it didn’t pounce on me yet.

Instead, it came around for another run, and I couldn’t scramble away. The predator was toying with me, and I was no match for the beast.

This time, my shoulder impacted its chest, and it glanced off me.

As it shot into the shadows, I tried to wedge myself under the car, scratching at the pavement, hoping my hands would land on the big stick.

The giant furred body slammed into me again, lodging its claws into my sides and dragging me away from the edge of the car.

Then it landed on top of me so it could rip open my belly with rapid kicks from its powerful rear legs.

It hadn’t made any sounds at all as its hot breath spread over skin.

The smell of blood filled my nostrils, and warmth spread over me.

I howled again. Shit! Shit! No one could save me now.

Logan!