“Turned around? Why didn’t she shoot you in the back?” he snaps.
“I don’t know but the horse, when she mounted it must have made a noise, and I spun around just as she pulled the trigger.” Desperate to distract him, Simon mumbles as he reaches for his flask, “But her eyes, sir.”
That catches the Generals’ attention. “What about them?”
“They were green, and I think she was white. It was hard to tell with the hat on, but her eyes were unmistakable.” He describes, feeling as if he’s betraying her.
“No survivors, Simon. That was the order.”
“I’m sorry sir,” he starts to say, but General Barclay is already leaving. Before he steps from the tent, he turns to the doc, “Shoot him in the other shoulder,” and he steps back into the morning sun. The General smiles when he hears the shot sound out. “He’s lucky that I let him live.”
He stops a young soldier covered in the blood of his enemies and smiles at him. “How many did you get son?”
“Fourteen, the little ones don’t count,” he grins.
“Oh, they count son. Can’t have them breeding. Well done. Send me the trackers.”
Chapter 4
Kimani leans low over the mount and urges him to run. A rifle shot explodes to her left causing her to veer right and follow the river. She shoots behind her once more, counting the bullets in her mind the way Steele Rivers taught her. “Three left; save them,” she murmurs and slides the pistol into the holster on the saddle. Her heart pounds in tune to the rhythm of the horse’s gait. The pain in her body reminds her she’s alive even as fear whispers in her mind, they’re coming for you.
“No,” she stammers as images of the dead cloud her vision. Pushing it back, Kimani is startled by lacey white flakes sifting down from the sky. She looks to the sky and feels the cold air for the first time and notices the snow-swollen clouds overhead.
With a worried glance over her shoulder, she looks to see if they are behind her. She is desperate to put some space between her and them, so she can hide and find shelter. Snow filled clouds fill the sky, warning her of the snow showers to come. That will help cover her tracks.
“Yah,” she kicks the mount driving him hard for another hour. She pulls her borrowed cowboy hat down over her head using it as a shield to protect her vision. Trembling from the cold, wet flakes, and blood loss, she prays she can hold on long enough to find shelter. Already the snow is falling, faster, and thicker than she thought possible.
“Live through the next few minutes, find shelter,” she reminds herself.
In her mind, she makes a list, find shelter, wrap your leg, stop the bleeding, find herbs, cauterize the wound, fire? No, she shakes her head, can’t risk a fire, too close.
Surely, they will give up and return. Why come after her? She’s just one victim? Her eyes take in the river, wishing she could quiet the noise. It drowns out all noise except for the rushing water as it picks up speed. She needs to get away from it, when she urges the mount to head away from the river, movement in the trees stops her.
“Wo,” Kimani pulls back on the reins and stops the horse. Her eyes trace the movement in the pine trees, and the horse snorts a nervous whinny. Terror pierces her soul when a large black wolf steps into view and snarls at her.
Before Kimani can react, the horse bolts straight down the river bank and she screams trying to regain her hold on the terrified animal. Frozen hands make it almost impossible to control the horse. The wolf lifts its head toward the snow filled sky and releases a soul-piercing howl. It carries through the air and Kimani feels it in her chest, causing her ears to ring.
Her mount explodes with adrenaline and runs with pounding hooves along the riverbank. The wolf flanks the horse, effectively pinning her to the river where her only choice is to pray the animal can outrun the beast. The horse’s hooves tear through the gravel and mud with its sides heaving as it tries desperately to outrun the predator. Kimani feels the tears flowing down her battered face, and she knows in that instant that she wants to live.
To her surprise, the river grows calmer, and she is thinking about attempting to cross when the wolf lunges for her leg. The horse veers away, diving straight into the water, leaving her no choice but to hold on. The horse jumps, pumping his legs and digging in the muddy river bank. Thankfully, the water is only to her thigh. When the wolf looks like he’s about to follow, she reaches back into her saddle holster and grabs the pistol. A quick pull of the colt and the wolf stops on the banks of the river pacing back and forth, snarling. The next howl has her driving the horse up out of the river onto the opposite bank and as far away from the wolf as she can get. He follows on the opposite side of the bank, and she screams at it.
“Today is not your day, wolf!” It stops running and stares at her as she fades from view.
Kimani urges the horse to keep going, but he’s growing slower, and she can no longer feel the pain in her leg or feet. Pulling on the reins, she guides him away from the bank of the river and through the trees. Sheer cliff walls block her escape. Her only choice is to try to build a shelter against the cliff for her and the animal.
With a tug of the reins, she
