Into the Woods & Over the Waterfall.

Shit.

Shit.

Shit.

What now?

Clumsily, I come to a stop, head swiveling fiercely to both sides in search of options, fatigue hitting fast now that I’m not running for my life. Speaking of, peering behind for signs of animal movement between the foliage and seeing none; it doesn’t relax or soothe me though. I’m fully aware our hunters are far better at camouflage and sense.

The surrounding forest is bursting with various noises and signs of life, unaware and unbothered by my current misfortune and dilemma. Above, winds boldly whistle through leafy thicket, rattling woods and reflecting sunlight in flourishing copse, casting illusions of unruly and dancing tree limbs. Just ahead is easily distinguishable rushing of water, gushing loudly from a crystal-clear waterfall that pools 50ft below. Only knowing because I’ve been here on a few hikes during mushroom season, given name on the tip of my tongue, but I’m too damn exhausted and frazzled to care.

Besides, my rapidly beating heart currently threatens to break from its chest cavity, absolute alarm and stress settling in as I’m utterly lost concerning the steps needed to ensure breathing, knees almost giving out on me. The honest realization there’s a chance of dying today if I can’t figure a way to safety; fear of never seeing, hearing, or holding my daughter weighing greatly on me, overwhelming sorrow from such a heart-wrenching thought cutting deep.

Dammit. There’s no choice, hazel orbs peering over the steep ledge and forcing my stomach from spewing as a decision is made; this could either hurt me further or kill me entirely. My innards twists nervously and both legs nearly turn to jelly, heights a phobia of mine… yet, if there’s a small chance of getting back to her, I’ll take it. Scared shitless or not.

Oddly, present seems to standstill, back to the cliff in wait and watching for signs of the predators, my left-hand pressing into bloody and torn flesh. A sizeable gash on the upper right bicep and shoulder bleed heavily, injury ensuing mere minutes ago, no time to try patching it. The pain is excruciating to the point of being unbearable, and I worry it might be profound enough to reach cartilage…

Scratch that, it undeniably hit bone, immediately gagging at the sight of mangled skin and osseous matter visible under shredded fabric, regretting in peaking. Frankly, I’m lucky to have an arm at this rate…

Since when do cougars hunt in prides? Are they really working together to catch and kill prey, like their distant relatives the lions? Isn’t this wholly unheard of, or are they evolving and adapting to their environment? Is this a prime example of evolution and Darwinism at it’s finest?

Every year, more ecosystems are demolished for future developments, land is over-resourced and destroyed, a hell of a lot faster than it’s replanted or regrown, meaning food sources and territory diminish for wildlife… so, is it truly that unheard for predators to embrace pack and pride instinct for survival when all this comes into play? What are the chances of running into a pride of Mountain Lions waiting in ambush? And what are the odds of enduring such a thing?

Seriously, what shit fucking luck.

For some bizarre reason, my fresh start to rebuild a loving foundation for myself led here. After years of living in constant denial about my toxic and unhealthy relationship, the week I finally up and leave I’m left competing for my life. 15 years of constant abusive tendencies and numbing problems with liquor, to ultimately walk away from what I’ve spent so much energy building.

This time, no amount of guilt trips, orgasm inducing sex, or threats of self harm prevented me from taking my 10-year-old by her hand and exiting that household with head held high. Marlowe and Sage by our sides as good best friends would be, just like now. Similar to anyone going through a separation, I can’t help but feel like I’ve wasted years for someone who not once made the effort to change or grow alongside me. Instead, I dealt with half-ass shots and excuses from partner who avoided dealing properly with PTSD, effecting numerous areas in our relationship. Our love for each other wasn’t the issue, only everything else.

Nevertheless, despite that, our years together bore a wild, curious, and beautiful soul. One I raise and guide to the best of my ability, even if some days are complete trash. No one in this entire world looks at me with truer adoration or stars in their eyes like she does. A single glance with the ability to erase all doubt in myself. Truthfully, I never knew unconditional love until the day I held my newborn. It was in that moment I knew I’d do anything to guarantee her well-being and happiness; so be it if that meant therapy or breaking apart our family. It was broken long ago, merely hidden from blameless baby-blues.

‘If all parents stayed together for their children, no one would split up’, the therapist said, not considering it’d ever apply to us.

Although life loves proving me wrong whenever an opportunity presents itself, snorting to myself and wincing at the tugging of my grated arm. Ugh, I can’t help but wonder if this is mother natures way of punishing me for piss poor parenting, or a higher power of sorts testing my will to overcome this and better myself. Not that I consider myself a terrible mother or person, I’m certainly not perfect by any means, screwing up on a constant basis and swearing like a drunken sailor when totally unnecessary. Still, no one can deny the genuine and wholesome love I have for her. If anything, this is karma for remaining in a one-sided partnership with resentment built up over time, resulting in countless hateful words witnessed by innocent orbs of sapphire.

A deep sigh of shame escapes me as I tilt my neck back to look upwards, early autumn colors flurrying in the breeze and clear sky that peaks through gaps and openings, aching and picturing the face I long to see, blue above a mirror of Ellie’s irises. Little bug, I’ll make it back to you; heaven, hell, or nature at it’s finest won’t stand in my path.

It’s quite funny though… I simply wanted a couple hours to enjoy my favorite hobby, where I'm most at ease. Ironic huh?

WOOF! WOOF! WOOF! Marlowe’s familiar barking rings out, her lower pitched tone echoing in the greenwood and sounding closer by the second. The female dogs’ growls and fierce howls of warning and threat remind me of the present situation, promptly forgetting the pity party going on in my head. I’m glad she found me, not once doubting her ability to.

“With me!” A clear recall amidst dropping my bloody hand to reach for her training remote and hitting the tone button, Mountain Bernese appearing swiftly. Along her side, Sage, my Pitty-cross is as quiet as usual, though his jowl and white chest is eerily stained red. With a whistle he’s at my side, hand deftly snatching his harness and tugging him closer to the ledge with me, awful discomfort shooting through me, fuckkkk. With a second press of the beeper, Marly halts to my left, heckles raised and body a step-in front of me where I tangle fingers in her collar securely.

As expected, our pursuers haven’t given up, lows growls, hisses and shuffling within brush informing us of their proximity. As far as I’m aware, our odds are three to five. Not terrible, but not that great, there could be additional blending in and waiting for opportunity to strike when we’re cornered, which is exactly what’s occurred…

Not for long, stepping backwards and guiding my canine companions closer to our escape route. I know most people pray to God or for some miracle when they are faced with life-or-death situations, but none of that comes to mind. What registers is the deafening waterfall, and hammering in my torso as five large, tawny, and tan pumas stalk inwards, no longer obscuring and concealing in wait. They’re hungry and times up.

I take another look at the pride and harness more courage and strength then ever needed, forcefully hauling myself and the 200lbs of dogs over the cliff, hands releasing them amidst the drop. It barely lasts a blink until I’m plunged in cold waters, the impact as if running full fledge into a solid barrier, breath knocked from me instantaneously. Panic strikes next as lack of air to my lungs causes inner frenzy, vision obscured by my untied hair and water pressure swift enough to flip and disorientate every sense. All that registers is, don’t breathe in, organs screaming and throbbing fiercely in necessity as the body can’t function without oxygen.

Don’t breathe in.

Don’t breathe in.

Suddenly, the spinning and vehement thrashing calm long enough for me to kick and break surface, gulping and choking for half a minute. After collecting breath, I quickly set sight on land roughly 50ft from me and swimming in towards it. Up ahead Marlowe who paddles my way, teeth clutching onto fabric and doing the rest of the work while Sage quietly sits ashore, his moist nose pressing into collarbone as I half crawled up amid being dragged. “Marley, leave it,” the Bernese releasing her hold and allowing me to crash onto the slippery bank. I’m lucky the drift pushed, rather than towed inwards, considering the water must be flowing off through somewhere...

In attempt to shift and sit up, my head goes hazy, and I immediately need to lay back to close my eyes, black spots and cloudiness sluggishly disappearing. A welcomed weight and heat press into me, warmth appreciated as cold seeps in muscles and bones from the wet clothes and September temperatures. I just need to lie for a minute or two… gotta get back up soon, in case those giant cats don’t give up their pursuit…

Grrrrrrr, Sage?

Upon waking, the first thing I notice is the setting sun, “shit,” swearing from both passing out and sitting up too fast, completely forgetting the grievance from earlier. “Son of a fucking bitch… fuck,” hissing in pain and almost puking due to it.

“Nice to know ya aren’t dead.” Honest to God, I’ve never flinched so hard in my life, even earlier when a cougar lunged and took a decent chunk from my shoulder… “That’s a loyal boy ya got there… won’t let me get closer than this.” An accent?

Unsurprisingly, every limb burns in tension as I search for the speaker, sight landing on a lone man sitting on an old log a few meters away. Nope, not alone, a huge grey Wolfhound raising his head from Mar, the Bernese far too trusting for my liking. At least with people, Mountain Lions on the other hand she is not so gracious with.

“Marlowe here had no problem warming up ta’ me. Might have’ta do with the jerky… usually does. Yur other one didn’t budge. Anytime I tried to see that shoulder of yurs, his heckles went up.” Good boy, Sage. “-figured I’d stick around to gain his trust or till ya came to,” the stranger wearing camouflage gear contributes, attention focused on whittling a piece of wood between his fingers. “Gave ya a fright too, huh? Went from cussing like a sailor to quiet as mouse,” drawl progressively growing stronger and ringing in my ears, feeling all sorts of wrong by how attracted I am to it.

“I very nearly peed my pants to be honest.” Really Lou? A hearty and authentic chuckle fills my ears as serenity descends from nowhere. Damn, a charming accent and laugh? Ted Bundy did too, the tiny voice at the back of my mind mutters.

“Anything broken? Can ya move Darlin?” Darlin... a southern accent this far north? How did I not catch that right off the bat?

“My legs should be okay… just got to get them going,” shaking out to wake and warm up, “-right arm is out of commission though.”

“Ya want some help? Storms coming in fast, doubt we can make it further then the hunting cabin a mile east of here,” gaze finally meeting mine, his hands tuck away his current project into one of the several vests pockets. “Won’t get any reception neither.”

Slowly, I work on getting to my feet and raise a brow at him, “hunting cabin? Isn’t this a protected park?”

Mr. Rugged and Mysterious nods amidst standing aswell, “we’re right on the border of crown land. Was tracking a buck when Swanson led me here. Guess his nose caught a whiff of ya blood.”

Somewhat steady, I place a hand on Sage’s head to let him know it’s alright, for now, “he’s a hound, so that’s not shocking.”

“Ain’t that the truth,” shouldering the gun resting beside him, “-I reckon you think I’m a threat, so I’ll keep my distance,” that’s slightly comforting. “-try to keep up… if ya need a hand, don’t be afraid to ask Sweets. I’m not gonna hurt ya.” They all say that. Especially the captivating ones.

“Lead the way,” motioning for him to start the trek and struggling to follow, tiredness reducing my speed. Sage sticks to my side the entire journey while Marlowe circles in watch for our earlier troubles, not concerned in the least about the one guiding us to ‘safety’.

By the time a small lodging comes into view dusk is falling, and no other words said since starting of our travel. The hunter arrives first, lighting a lantern hanging by a hook outside and removing his weapon to rest against the log wall. “I’ll get the fire started… got a first aid kit inside too, if you don’t feel like getting an infection from that cut.” Try gaping wound, but yeah, I don’t have much of a choice; either risk freezing to death and pumas or being murdered.

Internally hoping this isn’t my last night on earth, I slouched inside after him, observing as all three dogs find a place to lay down, myself shifting and fidgeting in spot. “Ya always this silent, or ya worried I’ll gut ya still?” Stormy grey orbs glancing me over with a stare that reaches my soul, while sparking kindling in the wood stove.

“Mostly the gutting part… not sure if I regret reading all the murder mysteries and thrillers throughout my life, or if I should be thankful, I’m paranoid and overly cautious from it.”

“Bit of both. A women like yourself out here alone and hurt? Perfect prey for sum creep.”

“Technically I’m not alone if you count my dogs,” I probably wouldn’t be alive right now without them too.

“Fair point Darlin,” his clearly defined back to me in search of something under the sink, until lifting a red medical kit to the counter. “Ya want to do it yurself or ya want me to take a look?” Ugh, question of the century. I certainly have no experience with a laceration as bad as this, but the closer I am to him, the riskier this becomes. “Not a lot of faith in people, huh?”

“Do you?”

“Naw… but I could’a shot your dogs and did what I like,” true, “-just a hunter who happen’ta’be nearby when whatever happened took place.” Can’t argue that, nodding and crossing the room to the four-person table tucked in the corner and sitting down on one of the chairs, my unnamed soon to be medic copying me.

As he pulls his chair to sit to my right, I look him over gradually, storing any information possible on the late thirty or early forty-year-old. He stands at 5’10, solid and robust. Likely a physical worker such as farming or labourer of some sort, calloused and rough hands a give away of his profession. That, and the burly arms that are no longer covered by a camo jacket. Up close it’s easy to get a whiff of him, pine and burnt gunpowder overpowering, the faint scent of cigarettes lingering too. Together it’s a mouth-watering mix with his natural scent, driving the women in me mad.

How can this be a thing? This man can literally be a serial killer, and I’m hot and bothered by our proximity? What is wrong with me, eventually regaining my senses and compelling my eyeballs to his face that hovers a little over a foot away, steel focus on the items he sets on the table in order of use. “So, Doc, should I take my shirt off?” That was a little blunt…

Instantly, the southerner pauses to meet my inquisitive look, “might make this easier… whatever ya comfortable with Sugar.” I wonder how many terms of endearment he’ll use for me by the end of this, or how many till I make a fool of myself further... irresponsibly throwing caution to the wind, I remove the still damp and shredded sweater carefully, along with an insulated sweater that’s also unsalvageable, leaving me in only a tank top. “Shit Sweets… this from a cougar?” Guess he knows his animal bites.

“Yep… I’m lucky Marly warned me in the last tick, or it would have got my spinal cord which is exactly where they aim.”

“No shit,” for such rough hands, the man’s touch is that of a breeze, “-he what drove ya off the cliff?”

“Him and the four or five others, I believe,” statement halting the brunet, an expression of disbelief marring his face. “-it sounds insane, but they were working as a pride. No way in hell could one puma drive the three of us to such a reckless act.”

“Six, huh? Likely all females if they’re anything like Lions.”

It’s my turn to pause and shoot him a weary look, “that was fast to trust me.”

He shrugs and gets up to fill an old bowl with distilled water, returning with it and a cloth, “looks like a bite to me… any of your dogs woulda’ drove one off.”

“Think I’ll make it through the night Doctor?” Joking to ease the remaining anxiety off, mostly secure about not being a missing persons case over the next twenty years.

“Darlin, ya’ll be fine with a good clean and wrap. I’ll drive ya to the hospital ‘marrow and they’ll do the rest.” Please call me that again, Cowboy, “-when I’m done this, the alcohol’s gunna sting like a bitch.”

Ugh, right, “hold my hand?”

“Anything ya need,” ridiculously sexy smirk pulling at his full lips, my obvious flirting doing what’s intended, “didn’t take long for ya ta’ go from terrified to cozy. What changed?”

“Could be exhaustion or the unusual tranquility you give off… part of that could be the twang.”

“Got a thing for the southern charm then?” His tone bordering on playful as he prepares to disinfect the gash I’ve avoided since he started his careful work.

“Can you blame me? Don’t hear much of it around these parts.”

“I got a friend in the city who lets me stay’round for hunting season… don’t often come across wounded women in the bush.”

I snort unlady-like, classy Lou, “let me guess, I’m the first?”

“Ya sure are Freckles,” personalized nicknames now? I’m spoiled. “Here we go. Don’t forget’a breathe,” one hand pouring to tidy the cut while his other presses the reg under to catch bloody tinted liquid from spilling all over. Holy fuck, getting bit was NOT the worst part, tears springing forth without restraint, a half-sob-groan exiting my chest as it takes everything in me not to scream.

“For fuck sakes,” breathing thoroughly like recommended.

“Almost done,” he promises, ring-less fingers skillfully bandaging and tying it off. “Good as new,” thanks to your magic touch.

“You don’t happen to have some pain killers laying around somewhere?”

The unnamed man ponders momentarily and shakes his head no, “afraid not… got some class A whiskey though.”

“I’ll take what I can get Doc,” eyeing him as he obliged by grabbing what’s needed from a cooler.

“Brodie Baker,” he says, handing me a tumbler of Rye on ice half a minute later.

Gladly taking it and brushing fingers intentionally, I lift the liquor in a cheering fashion, “Louise Clarke.”

“Ya go by Lou?”

“I do, but I’m starting to prefer Darlin,” tossing the drink back and grinning mischievously, “Sugar and Sweets works too… Freckles though? That’s the real winner.”

Predictably, my company fills the empty glass I’m holding and tops his off, “Freckles it is,” drawling in consensus and tipping his head forward to lock stares. “Any other requests?”

Over a split-second, his casual words elevate the already heavy friction, long forgotten feelings of anticipation and thrill from years of neglect resurfacing and empowering me. Screw it, smoothly slamming my second drink and going for broke, “I’ve had a shit day… any chance you can remedy that too, Brodie?”

For a retentive time, natural romance, spontaneous passion, and sexual impulsiveness was something I’ve only read about… breathing, tasting, and truly living it, is indescribable. A yearning of intimacy and desire is nurtured with the gentle and soft touches of his hands in my hair, teasingly traveling downwards to explore inch-by-inch. Our lips and tongues move in sync, whiskey flavored kisses steadily deepening as nibbling bites and hums of delight pass between us.

Somehow, the hunter strokes and caresses each overlooked curve and flaw as our clothes come off, tenderly picking me up to avoid aggravating my injury and depositing me on the lone cot seconds later. In doing so, he hovers overtop and what little light within the shack illuminates his features and figure, God, what a man, my fingertips trailing along his five ‘o’clock shadow to his firm chest and defined abdomen. It’s like he’s a character straight out of a dirty novel.

“Freckles, ya with me?”

“More than I’ve been with anybody,” comment earning me a smirk as he dips lower, mouth pressing and sucking sweet spots I never knew existed till today. Uncontrollable sighs and gasps of pleasure soon fill the silent lodging as Brodie licks and suckles my bundle of nerve-endings. Here I was thinking he had magic hands, but wowwww.

By the second I’m brought higher and closer to completion faster than ever before, a guttural moan breaking from me with a final flick of his tongue, my body shuddering in utter bliss. Only to be left gasping again as he enters me, hardness pulsing profusely as we find a rhythm, his right arm holding him up while his left-hand rubs my clit simultaneously. “Doc, you’re driving me crazy,” striving to breath as ecstasy overtakes me another time, orgasm continuous as he fucks me fervently to his own, both of us breathless and satisfied amidst breaking apart. “That was…” Life-changing, eye-opening and mind-blowing?

“Sure, was Darlin.”

Into the woods and over the waterfall she went, bleeding and lost… yet reborn and more alive than ever before. FIN