Page 34 of Rescue in Misty Mountain

“Got it,” I say. “I’ll head out now.”

I hang up, already turning toward the trail.

“What is it?” Tessa asks.

“Wounded coyote.”

“Do you need help?”

I pause.

Normally, I’d say no. I don’t take people with me. This is solo work. Quiet work. Controlled.

But when I look at her, all I see is how steady she was with Archie. How fast she moved. How sure.

“You sure?”

She nods. “I’ve got boots in the car and nothing better to do. Besides...” She grins. “I kind of want to see you in action.”

I roll my eyes, but I don’t say no.

***

We drive as far as the truck can go, then hike the rest. The shadows are long now, bleeding violet and rust through the trees.

Tessa catches my eye and smiles. “I know you’re used to do things on your own. But isn’t this more fun when you have back-up?”

We follow the ridge until I spot matted fur on a low branch, a streak of blood disappearing into brush.

“There,” I say. “Stay behind me. Coyotes are smart—and fast, even hurt.”

We move slow. Careful. I spot it—gray blur, low growl.

“Got eyes on him,” I whisper.

I pull the catch pole and blanket from my bag and edge forward.

Tessa doesn’t say a word. Just watches. Her eyes are sharp and she’s ready to do act when I give the signal.

The coyote limps into view—snarling, tired, still dangerous.

“Easy, buddy,” I murmur, crouching low.

He lunges.

I loop the pole, control him just in time.

“Blanket,” I grunt.

She’s already moving. She helps me cover him, her hands steady even as her breath hitches.

We secure its leg. Gently. Slowly. When it’s done, I look up at her.

“You alright?”

She exhales. “Adrenaline rush. But yeah.”

I’m impressed.

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