Chapter 25

Unwilling to take any chances with this hunt, Lance opted for his rifle instead of his usual crossbow. He pulled on a coat and trooped out into the snow. As he made his way to the clearing he watched the snow-covered ground for tracks, but the flakes were coming down with ferocity now and would cover any traces of his prey. Thick snow hung heavy from drooping branches and a wet chill permeated the air. The sky was gray as lead.

Lance took up a position behind a fallen log with a clear view of the area where he’d left the organs from his goat. The organs themselves were buried under the snow. He hoped this wasn’t an exercise in futility, but something sparked inside him. Anticipation, a knowing of sorts that he couldn’t name. As he waited, he wondered about Brooklyn, hoped she wouldn’t wake up frightened to be alone. Oh, hell, who was he kidding? She’d probably be relieved to find him gone.

Thoughts of Ellen had been plaguing him since he had found the woman. Not at all because Brooklyn reminded him of Ellen. No, they couldn’t be more physically different from each other. It was just the nearness of a woman again. A woman who was not well. A woman in close proximity, relying on him, needing his care. Whether she wanted it or not was another matter.

He always tried to repress memories of Ellen. His grief had not been as intense since coming to the mountain. It had been muted, pushed far into the background. Now, with Brooklyn’s presence, the images kept flooding back over the dam of resistance he had so carefully built. Ellen’s dark eyes flashing at him over some joke. Ellen’s feet in sandals, with her crooked little toe and silly purple nail polish. Ellen tossing their nephews into the water at the lake, their squeals of joy breaking her face into a wide smile. And then again, Ellen, weak, frail, and unresponsive under white sheets.

Lance shoved aside these painful thoughts and focused on the clearing in front of him. Low and slinky, the cat made her wary approach, head turning side to side. He moved his eye to the sight and took a bead on her head.

The shot split the air with a loud crack and the cat dropped. Lance stood slowly and watched it for a few minutes. Normally he would skin the animal, but today he wanted to get back to his cabin. That desire combined with his disgust for the cat’s destruction of his goat prompted Lance to do something out of character. He left the dead cat for the scavengers.