Page 11 of Blackwood

I landed another kick right on its eye, and it let go with a snort. Caught between the thicket and the boar, I had nowhere to go. Not that I could walk. My leg wound was too extensive. Tears threatened as the second boar approached, its nose in the air as it scented my blood. I felt around behind me, trying to find my knife and ignoring the thorns that ripped my already injured palms. It was my only chance.

The boar with the tusks regrouped and lunged forward again, seeking my injured leg. I kicked, but it grabbed my right foot in its mouth and clamped down around my boot. The second boar, emboldened, ran up behind its mate, grunting and snorting its interest.

I balled my hands into fists, leaned forward, and swung at the monstrous black snout. I connected, but the beast didn’t let go. Instead, it shook me so hard I thought it might pull my leg from its socket.

A scream bubbled from my throat as its teeth punctured my boot and dug into my heel. The other boar circled around toward my left.

I would die out here.

The realization of death didn’t come like a sucker punch; it came as a cold finality. It was almost calming to know with certainty that the end is imminent and utterly unavoidable. I felt the cold air in my lungs, the roaring pain radiating from my leg, the tickle of hoarseness in my throat—everything all at once, my last bits of life. Was my father’s ghost here, watching me die in the same woods where he perished?

The second boar snorted with agitation as it advanced, skirting the thicket and hemming me in. It surveyed me with black, shiny eyes. This was it. I readied my fists for the final assault.

The boar at my foot yanked viciously as the one to my left charged.

A shot cracked through the frozen air. The boar to my left stumbled and dropped, its forward momentum from the charge sending it skidding into my side. It shuddered and stared up at me with one black eye.

Another shot echoed through the trees and the boar at my feet released its hold and backed up a few steps. It turned and started to run, moving like a drunk through the trees. Another shot, and it dropped to the ground with a thud and didn’t move.

I scooted away from the dying boar and cried out from the searing pain in my leg. The woods swam, the trees no longer straight but becoming wavelengths transmitting my horror. Leaves crunched nearby, and a dark shape approached as I struggled to breathe and keep my eyes open.

He knelt down and peered at me as words came out of his mouth. I didn’t understand him, though I caught a “fuck” here and there. I couldn’t concentrate, so I stared into his eyes. They were familiar, even in the dark. A steely blue. Like water beneath a stormy sky. My vision fuzzed black at the corners, and then I fell deep into that churning water, a storm raging above me.

Chapter Eight

Fire bored through mycalf, each lick of flame hotter than the last. I came to on a scream.

“Great.” The same deep voice from the woods.

I tried to rub my eyes, but I couldn’t move my hands. The burn intensified as I struggled.

“Stop moving!” A large palm gripped my thigh, skin to skin.

Blinking hard, I took a look around. I was in a room, the décor dated. A fan twirled above me, and two wide windows showed me nothing except a reflection of the interior. It was still dark outside.

The man from the woods bent over my leg, and a flash of searing heat shot through me again. I struggled, but he’d tied me to the bed.

“Let me go!” I yanked at the rope, but it didn’t give, only dug into my wrists.

“I said for you to stop fucking moving.” His voice remained calm, cold.

I couldn’t make out much other than dark brown hair and a plaid shirt over broad shoulders. He didn’t meet my gaze, keeping his face turned toward my calf. He’d rescued me from the boars only to tie me to his bed? Fear churned in my stomach, and I turned my head to the side, afraid I was going to be sick.

He let out a heavy sigh, and his tone gentled the slightest bit. “Stay still. I’m trying to sew you up.”

“It hurts.” Tears welled and rolled down my temples. The fear and agony of the woods painted my thoughts a murky color, and I couldn’t seem to think clearly.

“I can either sew it up or let you bleed out.” He rose to his full height and peered down at me, his eyes so familiar yet so changed from the college photo. He had a short, dark beard and hair that almost brushed his shoulders. Wild. “I’ve cleaned your wounds as best I can. The nearest hospital is an hour away. It was risk you dying to drive you there or this. I chose to keep you alive, though I don’t have a clue why. So don’t fucking move, and I’ll finish what I started.”

I withered under his fierce gaze as the deep ache in my leg seemed to thump along with my heartbeat. “I don’t know if I can be still.”

“You have to be.” He bent over, his hair forming a dark curtain between us.

I pulled on my bindings again. “Untie me.”

He turned and slammed his fist into the sturdy wooden bed post, his anger swift and surprising. “If you hadn’t been on my land illegally, this wouldn’t have happened.”

“I heard screaming. I wanted to help her.” The room began to expand and contract with my breaths. Why didn’t the plaster crack? “She’s in the woods. A woman in pain.”

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