Page 39 of Rescue in Misty Mountain

And the ground gives.

I fall hard—pain explodes across my ribs, my shoulder. I taste blood and pine needles. My leg catches under a burned log, too heavy to move. I groan and try to move again. Nothing.

I’m trapped.

And stupid enough to have come alone.

The smoke thickens. I cough, blinking up at the hazy orange sky.

Then—

I hear her.

Not the eagle.Her.

Tessa.

The roar of an engine. The sharp skid of tires on dry dirt. Her voice, fierce and shaking, calling my name.

Tessa runs toward me like she’s part of the storm—long hair loose and wild. Her eyes are blazing. Rain misting down around her.

Rain. When did it start to rain?

“Oh thank God,” I mumble before croaking out her name.

“Don’t you dare,” she snaps, already dropping beside me. “Don’t youdareyell at me for coming.”

She has a First Aid kit open and places a bandage around my ankle, like she knows exactly where it’s hurt.

“You came after me,” I whisper.

“No one gets to be a reckless idiot on this mountain except me.” Her voice trembles, even as she works fast—cutting the branch, bracing my leg. “You scared the hell out of me, Gage.”

I want to say I’m sorry.

I want to saythank you.

But mostly I want to stay conscious until we’re out of here.

The eagle flutters weakly from behind us. Somehow, she made it too.

We’re all going to make it.

* * *

By the time Jesse gets us back to the cabin, the sky has broken wide open.

Rain falls soft and steady. The flames turn to smoke. The scent of scorched earth slowly begins to give way to pine and something cleaner.

Tessa helps me inside while Jesse offers to get our newest addition settled.

I’m soaked, sore, and clinging to what little adrenaline I have left. She doesn’t say a word. She just peels off my jacket and guides me to the couch, where blankets—and a worried Whiskey—are already waiting.

She kneels in front of me and takes my hand. “Are you okay?”

I nod. But it’s not the truth.

She sees it. Of course she does.

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