Cry of the Wild by Catherine Anderson

Author:Catherine Anderson
Format: epub

Chapter Nine

During the return trip to the lodge, Crysta's legs grew quivery with exhaustion. The slightest projection in her path caught the toe of her sneaker, making her stumble.

With no warning, Sam touched her elbow and nodded toward a grassy sweep of high ground. "I need to take five."

He sat down and she stumbled after him, drooping to the ground like an overcooked strand of spaghetti. Despite the breeze coming off the water, her face felt hot, her forehead filmed with sweat. Sam stretched out on his back, head on his folded arms. With far less grace, she flopped over on her stomach.

She knew he had stopped not for himself, but for her. His legs were accustomed to long treks; hers were not. She drew a shaky breath, running her parched tongue over dry lips, longing for a drink. The river water looked too muddy for consumption.

As if he had read her mind, Sam removed a small flask from his belt and offered it to her. "Care to wet your whistle?"

Crysta uncapped the canteen and took a drink. After wiping the mouth of the container, she handed it back to him and watched as he took a long swallow and sighed with satisfaction.

"You okay?" he asked as he clipped the canteen back onto his belt. "This is quite a trek for someone not used to it."

After she had tried so hard to keep up with him, the husky concern in his voice pricked her pride. "I'm fine. How about you?"

The comeback was ridiculous. He would have to be blind not to see how trembly her muscles were. However, just because her body had given out on her didn't mean she should lose her sense of humor. "If you don't think you can make it the rest of the way, I'll let you lean on me," she offered.

She heard a choked laugh. "I appreciate that."

Abandoning pretense, she rolled onto her side and tipped her head back to study his profile. Against the backdrop of thick grass and swaying Cottonwood, he struck a contrast to the wildness, yet seemed strangely a part of it. "Are we walking uphill?" she asked.

"The incline is pretty slight."

"Tell my legs that." -

His firm lips inched into a wry grin. "I'm sorry. I should have stopped sooner. I had my mind on other things."

Crysta wished her own thoughts could transcend the physical. The last mile or so, even her obsessive musings about Derrick had dimmed, edged out by muscle fatigue and the struggle to keep waling. "What other things?"

"Derrick's papers. I've gone through at least half of them, possibly more. My instincts fell me there's something there, something I'm missing." He closed his eyes. "There has to be something. It's our only chance."

Crysta made a fist in the grass, giving the tender shoots a twist. The bittersweet smell drifted to her nostrils, making her think of the times in high school when she had tussled with Derrick on their front lawn while he practiced his wrestling moves. The memories brought a lump to her throat.

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