They pushed on.
The path of least resistance had led them from the taller reaches of this edge of the wilderness and down toward the valley. Meg carefully watched their altitude, still cautious of the wildlife watering at the river, not that they could see the river from where they were so deep in the forest. All she could see in every direction were rocks and trees, with occasional peeks at the leaden sky through the canopy above. But she knew they weren’t alone in these woods. She’d seen bear scat, and on two occasions had spotted deer foraging for food, one doe round with her oncoming fawn.
But then there came a more foreboding sound when a yip, following by a high-pitched, extended howl shivered through the trees.
Meg froze, her gaze darting from side to side. “Hawk, stop.”
He halted and looked up at her, but her attention was drawn back to the forest around them. Another howl cut through the forest, then another. And another.
Coyotes. And more than one.
It was impossible to tell where the sound was coming from up here in the hills, where sound ricocheted off rock and flowed through the valley between peaks.
Hawk stood on alert at her side, his ears perked as his gaze traveled the forest while he scented the air.
The sound came again, this time clearly from their left. And closer.
It was answered by a bark from behind them.
Had the smell of the blood soaked into her shirt attracted them?
Coyotes could travel in both family and hunting packs. If this was a hunting pack looking for its next meal, they could be at risk. A single coyote wouldn’t be an issue; she could haze one coyote—yell, stomp her feet, throw rocks—and scare it off. But there was strength in numbers, and where a single coyote couldn’t take down anything larger than a small dog or a cat, a pack of coyotes could band together to take down larger prey, like a deer.
They were fiercely territorial animals. In this case, they would see Hawk as competition, and as such, they would want to exert their control over the area. She knew that control in their eyes would involve eliminating the competition. They could have the area; she and Hawk would be happy to leave it.
Goal number one then was to avoid the coyotes. Just in case, she transferred her walking stick to her left hand and dug her knife out of her pocket, freeing the blade. She had no interest in hurting a wild animal, but she’d be damned if she’d let one of them hurt her dog. They’d have to look for a meal elsewhere.
“Hawk, come.”
Ignoring the stabs of pain from her battered feet, Meg picked up the pace. At this point, exhaustion was a constant drag on her, but she would not allow herself to be a vulnerability to the team.
She scanned the area around them. Below led to the river and at least one of the coyotes. It sounded like there was at least one behind them. Ahead, the forest continued, undulating over the mountain slope before dropping from view. About thirty feet to the right, a rocky outcrop marched in large, jagged steps farther up the slope. While it would be a climb for her and a challenging parkour exercise for a well-trained dog like Hawk, she hoped it would be a harder and potentially impossible scramble for the smaller coyotes. They needed to put some space between themselves and the pack, and that would be the best way to do it given the local terrain.
Another howl. This time, when Meg whirled around, she caught a shadow of movement in the trees.
Closing in. Time to move quickly.
“Hawk, come.” She jogged toward the rock face, Hawk right on her heels.
They were almost there when the first coyote stepped out of the trees, its teeth bared and its pale-yellow eyes fixed on Hawk as a low growl rumbled from its throat.
Cursing the lack of ten extra seconds, Meg stepped in front of Hawk, turning the walking stick around so it was point out toward the coyote. The animal was easily fifteen feet away and not within reach, but Meg wasn’t about to let it get near her dog. “Go on!” she yelled, stomping her boots and waving her right arm. “Get lost! You’re not welcome here!” Putting her thumb and pinkie in her mouth, she blasted out a sharp, high-pitched whistle.
The coyote took a single step back, startled, but then its gaze flicked past Meg, who quickly followed the tell and stepped sideways to keep her back to the rocks, Hawk behind her. Two more coyotes stood at the edge of the trees, and a few feet over, another stood in the lengthening shadows.
Four. Not good.
The coyotes started to move in, spreading out to trap them.
“Talon, up.” Meg risked a quick glance behind her. Hawk stood quietly, but his hackles were raised and his lips drawn back to expose his teeth. “Talon.” She could feel his reluctance as he finally looked at her. “Up.” She pointed at the rock formation with the point of her knife. “Up, now.” He hesitated for a moment, and she was about to command him again when he turned away, gathered himself, and leaped to the first level. He nearly slipped on the narrow ledge, but caught himself.
One of the coyotes lunged in, growling and snapping, watching the focal point of his aggression leap partly out of reach.
“Back off!” Meg swept the walking stick sideways, catching the coyote in the chest, making it stumble back several feet. The two coyotes to her right paced back and forth across from her, their heads down and their eyes locked on her, noses tipped up to scent the air the same way Hawk would. Definitely smelling my blood-soaked shirt.
She didn’t dare look at her dog. Keeping her eyes fixed on them, she turned her head slightly so Hawk couldn’t miss her words. “Talon, up!” There was a brief pause and then she heard more scrabbling and the sound of him landing above. He was now out of reach.
Now it was her turn. But how to manage it with four coyotes closing in on what smelled to them like a wounded animal?
Step one—get them to move back.
With a bellow, she stepped out toward them, shifting her grip on the walking stick to the end and swinging it in a wide arc. The coyotes jumped back a few feet, startled by the noise and staying clear of the pointed end of the stick.
Not far enough.
She repeated the action, swinging the stick back and forth a few times until they stopped moving. She’d lost the initial scare factor.
Meg knew running from a coyote was inviting attack, but a technique meant to be used on one coyote wouldn’t work for a pack. And there was no way to scale those rocks without turning her back on them and having both hands free, which meant the knife had to go away. Keeping her eyes locked on the animals, she braced the back of the blade against her thigh, snapped it into the handle, and then slid it into her pocket. Then she turned and sprinted for the rock wall, tipping the stick against the rocks as she took a running leap for the next level, adrenaline giving her the rush of energy her exhausted body needed. She grasped the overhang and pulled herself up, finding a toehold with her booted foot to boost her the rest of the way. Just as she was pulling up her back foot, teeth grasped her heel and she jerked her boot free.
She looked down into four sets of feral yellow eyes. “Sorry, boys. Better luck next time.”
She grabbed the end of the walking stick and drew it up to lean it against the higher rocks and then scrambled with more speed than grace up to the next level, pulling her walking stick after her. She found Hawk standing at the edge, looking down at the coyotes as they leaped against the rocks, barking and whining.
Meg ran her hand down his back. “Good boy, Hawk. Now, let’s go the rest of the way.”
The barking intensified as they climbed and jumped higher, finally standing at the top of the formation beside a tree growing at the very edge of the upper level, its roots breaking from the rocky soil to hang over the edge like gnarled fingers. Meg gave them one last look as she straightened at the top, and then called her dog and turned away.
The light level was dropping and Meg wanted to put as much distance as possible between herself and the coyotes in case they found a way up or around. Finally, she conceded it was simply too dangerous to cont
inue in the dark, and they needed to find shelter before one of them walked off a cliff.
They settled into a copse of trees, scurrying under the lower branches of a white cedar to collapse onto a layer of dead leaves that cushioned them from the hard dirt and rock below. Meg set her back against the tree and called Hawk to sit between her spread thighs. Wrapping her arms around him, she sighed with relief at his warmth. She shivered in the cool night, the dampness of her clothing drawing any remaining heat from her skin. She desperately wished for a fire, but with no emergency matches or even a flint, it would be an exercise in futility.
Exhaustion crawled through her, dragging at her with inexorable fingers, but she didn’t dare close her eyes. She knew Hawk was the best early warning system possible, but she wouldn’t depend on him to protect them both while she slept. They would remain awake together. She pulled the walking stick closer to her left side, the point facing outward, and then pulled her knife from her pocket, holding it in her right hand, with her thumb on the button to open the blade, if needed.
If anything hunted them tonight, they’d go down fighting. And with vigilance, they’d survive until morning.
They’d get out in the morning. They’d find help and she’d make sure Brian was okay. She’d get out of her wet clothes and would finally be warm.
She needed to stay awake until then, which turned out to be harder than anticipated. She found herself occasionally nodding off and then snapping her head upright, trying to focus on something—anything—in the dark. But the clouds blocked the moon and stars, and they were alone in the utter blackness.
But were they really? What was out there that could see her, when she couldn’t see it?
Suppressing a shiver, she huddled closer to Hawk, drawing strength from his even breathing and relaxed posture. For now, they were safe.
When it started to rain hard enough that water drizzled through the branches, Meg cupped her hands, collecting the drops until there was enough for first Hawk and then herself to drink. Their thirst slaked, she huddled closer to her dog, curving her body over his in an attempt to keep him dry, while she waited in the dark, miserable and cold, for the sun to rise.
CHAPTER 23
Nunnehi: The name Nunnehi means “traveler” or “one who goes about.” In Cherokee legend, the Nunnehi show themselves to humans they like, and intercede on their behalf.
Wednesday, April 17, 8:43 AM
Cohutta Wilderness
Murray County, Georgia
As she hobbled over the next rise, Meg caught a blur of color below them—a flash of red, followed by a glimpse of black and white.
Meg froze, almost unable to believe her eyes. “Hawk, stop.” She blinked a few times and looked again. She was so tired, she couldn’t be sure she wasn’t hallucinating. But no, there it was again. And when she blinked, it didn’t disappear.
Lauren.
Meg waved both bands over her head and tried to yell Lauren’s name, but the sound came out raspy and not nearly loud enough. “Hawk, it’s Lauren and Rocco down there. They’ve come to find us. Speak!”
Hawk barked and Meg waved her arms again.
And from down below came the answering bark.
Rocco.
They’d been found.
Meg nearly dropped to her knees in relief, but forced herself to put one unsteady foot in front of the other. She could rest once they were safe, but they still had a long way to go.
She and Hawk kept up their slow, steady pace. In contrast, Lauren and Rocco were on the run, climbing over rocks and then jogging uphill. As they came closer, Meg cracked a smile, and then winced when her dry lip split. “Fancy meeting you here.”
“Oh, thank God we found you. We’ve been out of our minds.” Lauren threw her arms around Meg and squeezed.
Pain ricocheted through Meg and she let out a small cry.
Lauren let go immediately. “Are you hurt? Where?”
“I think it might be safer to ask where it doesn’t hurt. But it’s nothing serious. Bumps and bruises, mostly from an unexpected trip down the river. I wasn’t doing too badly yesterday, but then I stiffened up when I stopped moving overnight.” She pressed two fingers gingerly to her eyebrow. “This bled like crazy but finally stopped.”
Lauren touched her jaw with gentle fingers, turning her head. “I can see that. There’s blood all over your cheek.”
“I couldn’t see to clean it off. I must have misplaced my cosmetics mirror,” Meg joked. “But it did get us into a touch of trouble with a pack of coyotes who could smell it. How’s Brian?”
“He’s fine. When you two got split up yesterday, you were the only target. He and Lacey got away without a scratch.”
“Thank God.” Meg looked down when Rocco pressed against her legs. “Hi, Rocco buddy. Am I ever glad to see you.” She looked up and met Lauren’s eyes. “Who’s out searching?”
“Everyone. Brian and Lacey, Scott and Theo, McCord and Webb, several local law enforcement teams. Craig is here coordinating.”
“I figured he’d send Brian out after me, or maybe send one additional team to help out, not mobilize the whole unit.”
“He couldn’t have stopped us. It was officially mobilize us and come with, or watch us walk out the door without him. Craig wouldn’t have considered any other option. When Brian called us yesterday afternoon and told us about the attack and that you’d disappeared and weren’t answering your sat phone, we scrambled. Caught the next flight to Atlanta out of Reagan, but by the time we arrived it was too dark, so we had to wait until first light to get out here. Webb and McCord found your go bag at the river’s edge almost right away. And we knew there was no way you left it there.”
“When we got shot at, I dove out of the way of an arrow and ended up falling down a steep slope.”
“Not just ‘an arrow.’ Try ‘four arrows.’ Which are now being analyzed by the crime-scene techs. Okay, so you ducked all those arrows and went down the hill. What happened then?”
“I ended up in the Conasauga River at the bottom of the ridge. I had to ditch the bag to keep from drowning.” Meg tried to shrug, but her stiff shoulders didn’t cooperate and it came out as a one-sided lurch. “As a result, I lost all our supplies, our water and food, communications, and the GPS, so I had no idea where we were. However, Hawk knew where I was and came after me. He jumped into the rapids as I was beginning to really struggle, and helped me get to the side.”
Lauren squatted down and ran her hands over Hawk’s dirty fur. “Of course he did, you big hero.” She kissed the top of his head and stood. “I’m going to let the others know you’re okay and to call off the search, including air support.” She pulled her satellite phone out of her bag and dialed. “Craig, it’s Lauren. I have them both. Yes, they’re okay. Banged up, exhausted, and probably in need of food, water, and a doctor, but no serious injuries. Yes, please let them all know and bring them in. We’re on our way. If we need assistance, I’ll let you know.” She hung up and tucked the phone away. “Are you okay to keep going? You look like you’re about to fall down. And you’re limping.”
“I hurt everywhere, I’m so tired I could sleep for a week, and there are blisters on my blisters, but we’ll keep going.”
“Good. But first . . .” Lauren slipped off her bag, set it on the ground, and rooted through it. She pulled out a bottle of water and handed it to Meg. “Drink this.”
“But Hawk—”
“Is next. Leave him to me.”
Meg unscrewed the bottle with shaking hands and then drank more than half in a continuous series of swallows, soothing her parched throat. By the time she looked down, Lauren had a pair of collapsible bowls set up, one with water, where Hawk lapped thirstily, and one with high-energy food. She stood and pushed two energy bars into Meg’s hand. “Energy bars are all I have, but they’ll do for a start. Eat those, finish the water, take a minute. I know they’re all dying to see you for themselves, but you’ll do better on the hike back if you have some energy. I
t’s easily an hour.”
Meg sat down on a nearby rocky shelf, unwrapped a bar, took a bite, and chewed thoughtfully. “You know, I’m really not fond of these, but they’ve never tasted better than right now.”
“When was the last time you ate?”
“Lunch yesterday. Then I lost everything.” She jerked upright as a thought occurred to her. “We need to call Craig again. When I went down the hill, I lost my service weapon. We need to recover it.”
“We will. The place is swarming with search teams. But I’ll give Craig the heads-up. Where do you think you lost it? On the hill?”
“That would be my best guess. The grip probably got caught on something as I was rolling and it got yanked out. Or maybe it came off with the holster. Either way, I know exactly where we were at that point.” She described the location to Lauren, who called Craig to pass on the information.
Lauren gave her a few minutes to eat the bars and wash them down with a second bottle of water. By that point, Hawk was also fed and watered and was standing with Rocco. “You ready to head back?”
Meg pushed to her feet. “Absolutely. We’ve been in this wilderness long enough.”
It took them over an hour to hike to a parking lot near the river with the help of the GPS in Lauren’s satellite phone. Finally, they came down a well-traveled path that angled toward the road. Leaving the trail, they broke from the trees into a parking lot full of cars.
It was a scene Meg was familiar with: Craig running the op from the hood of his car, a phone at his ear or radio in hand and a map spread out to track the locations of the teams. Teams coming in from their searches and packing up to move out. Extra personnel standing nearby, ready to assist anyone who needed help.
It was a scene she’d worked hundreds of times. But for the first time, it was for her. People had flown in from out of state to find her, and local law enforcement had turned out in force. She knew she should feel mortified, but was simply too exhausted to drum up the emotion.
Leave No Trace Page 22