The Alaska Escape (Josh Glassman Adventures Book 3) by K.B. Spangler

Author:K.B. Spangler [Spangler, K.B.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: AGAHF Books
Published: 2020-04-08T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TEN

Brenda’s eyesight was terrible. Her sense of smell, on the other hand, was excellent.

And her nose was very cold.

And Brenda kept shoving it into my ear.

“Could you ask her to move?” I was doing my best to keep calm and carry on, but Brenda was fascinated with me. Once we had reached Pappy’s camp, she had given me a thorough sniffing, and then draped one foreleg over my shoulder and planted her nose as deep in my ear as it would go. Considering her nose was twice the size of my ear, she needed to do a lot of extra shoving to make it work.

Pappy thought it was the best thing ever.

“She likes you, boy,” he said, chuckling.

“All the ladies like Josh.” Mare’s smile was wide and white in the light of the campfire.

“Don’t start,” I told her, as Brenda gave a low howl and let her head fall in my lap.

Mare slammed both hands across her mouth to keep from laughing.

I tried to squirm out from under Brenda’s giant head (and jaws and teeth!), but Brenda wrapped a paw around my thigh.

It was not as cute as it sounds. Bear fur isn’t soft or silky, and it’s thick enough to stab through a cotton t-shirt. Bears have fleas and ticks and other, weirder parasites, scattered around the usual nicks and scratches she acquired from living in the woods. Finally, while Brenda appeared to be an all-over white from a distance, she was just filthy. I mean, utterly filthy. You could tell everything she’d done over the last two weeks, and that included eating something extra-bloody.

(Also, don’t forget that a set of teeth longer and thicker than my car keys was mere inches away from my balls, because I sure as hell couldn’t.)

“Rub her behind the ears,” Pappy suggested helpfully. “She enjoys that.”

“No thanks,” I replied. My legs were already falling asleep from the crushing weight of Brenda’s head. I rolled to the side and slid from beneath Brenda’s great mass as carefully as I could. She made a few disgruntled noises, but allowed me to squirm away.

“Don’t sit next to Mare,” Pappy told me. “You don’t want Brenda to get jealous, do you?”

This time, Mare couldn’t stop laughing. She fell backwards, legs pounding on the ground as she howled.

I shook my head and went back to the big iron cookpot where my dinner waited. It was a shepherd’s pottage of a dozen indiscriminate ingredients, which Pappy kept covered and high in a tree during the day and brought to a boil every night. Animals, vegetables, fungus, all of it went into the pot. I had always wondered what pottage was. The best I could tell, it was beige. Beige in color, beige in smell, beige in taste. Beige, beige, beige.

I was hungry enough to eat a full bowl and go back for seconds, even as my stomach growled in protest. Getting back to a state of existence in which I was spoiled for choice in restaurants was becoming a gastronomical priority.

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