A nother night without dreams. Dead. Soundless. I wake before dawn and hear nothing. No howling. No wind. I am warm, but the chill of the snow is there, and I immediately claw my way out and stand up.
“I’m alive,” I shout. “Paul, wherever you are, I’m alive.”
I roll up my bag and drink the small amount of water that melted in my overnight bottle. My legs have not recovered, and I can feel the pain and ache in them from the very first step.
I push across the open grass and the farther I go, the more endless it seems. I fear my mind is slipping as I keep looking around, feeling that somebody is following me. For a minute I imagine it is Paul, who recovered and decided to come find and save me. But he never comes. You can dream all you want, Jane, I tell myself, but this is just about you. Focus, Solis, focus.
I near the wooded forest on the horizon. I’ve trudged for most of the day in knee- and thigh-deep snow. My legs are dead and frozen in a way they’ve never been. I look back and there’s a sight so horrific, I gag.
It isn’t Paul that’s been following me, but a wolf. A lone black wolf, moving sideways and forward. I watch it zigzag along, and at first I think it might be hunting for rabbits or prairie dogs. But now I feel its eyes on me; it’s walking slowly, stalking me, waiting for me to falter. Then it will pounce on me and rip the meat from my bones.
With each step, I see the wolf coming closer. The closer the wooded area is, the nearer the wolf comes to me. Does he know that safety might lie just beyond the flat snow grasses for me? I experience a burst of adrenaline and move through the final twenty yards of snow and grass faster than I would have thought possible.
I glance behind me often. As my pace increases, so does the wolf’s. He trots and seems to be following a straighter path than before. He pauses when I look directly at him. I sense there is some fear in him as well. The thought of that emboldens me. The big bad wolf is afraid of me! Well, maybe not afraid, but he’s being cautious before he launches an attack.
I reach the wooded area and turn quickly, sizing up the wolf. He is bone thin. He stops in his tracks, and for the first time, he doesn’t turn his head. I want to run, but something in my gut tells me to stand still, if even for a second. His eyes are yellow and his fur is mostly black with grayish patches. He leans awkwardly on his left paw, lifting his right. Is he injured? I can’t tell. I’ve yet to see any other wolves. Has he left his pack or been left behind?
With his probable injury, I suspect his speed is limited and his limited ability to climb is further diminished. I reach a large pine tree about fifty feet into the woods and begin climbing it. I stop for a moment to look back, but I don’t see anything. If he had wanted to attack me straight on, it would have happened already, right? Just climb, Jane, climb.
The tree is thick with branches and each snow-encrusted branch takes a minute to navigate, but I make steady progress up the trunk. I think I hear a soft growl below me, but I do not look down. Then there’s some scratching on the trunk, but I convince myself that his injury will prevent him from climbing. And even if he can climb, I’d rather fight him from above in a tree then in an open field, where he would surely overpower me.
I slip and slide my way a good twenty feet up, find a good perch, and stop. I pull out my two climbing sticks and sit and wait to do battle. I’ll probably die up here, but at least I’ll die fighting. Is that a little bloodlust moving through my veins? I almost relish a fight at this point. I sense an uninhibited craziness brewing inside me, but it’s so different from what I felt at the hospital. It has purpose, and I’m in control of it.
I wait and listen but hear nothing except the normal night sounds of the forest. The wind whistles softly, a branch breaks and falls in the distance, and I listen to the rustling of trees against one another. A little fear snakes up my back as I imagine the wolf making its way up the branches, slinking slowly and methodically.
Would I hear it? In this darkness, will I hear it climb? I push the thoughts from my head. Don’t let the voices take over again, Jane. I think of Paul, and I wonder if he’s alive. The wind blows and I imagine that’s him sending me a hug from afar.
But what am I going to do? I can’t go down now.
I unroll my sleeping bag and perch on a clump of large branches, hooking my feet under and over them to brace myself. I snuggle down into the bag, zip and seal the top, and press my back against the trunk as firmly as possible.
As I sit in this tree, I contemplate the cold. I am freezing now beyond comprehension. I know that the temperature outside is mild compared to what we faced before, so the chill in my bones frightens me. I’m cold now because my body is running out of energy, and it’s damaged by my exertion and exposure for the last few days. I may be stronger than I thought I was, but I’m weakening too. I can only hope that somebody finds me soon.