More Than a Feeling

Chapter 2

Ruthie pulled on her heavy coat, gloves, and hat, and stepped out the back door of her dad's cabin. She grabbed the wheelbarrow and headed through the little clearing toward the woodpile. The snow had started far earlier than predicted-naturally. At noon, the forest was already dark with thick clouds. She squinted up at the sky. She'd gotten a feel for snowstorms over the years, and she had a hunch this one was the real deal.

Good. Several quiet days completely alone were just what she needed.

Maybe several weeks.

Maybe the rest of her life.

As she neared the pile of expertly chopped firewood, a strange shape on the ground up ahead caught her eye. Sort of long and low, covered in a thin layer of snow. Weird. It was shaped a lot like a person.

She stopped, immediately thinking of the rumors circulating around town about bodies turning up in the woods lately. Mutilated bodies, ripped open, hearts missing-usually other organs, too. Most likely explanation was they had a man-eating wolf on their hands, if not a whole pack.

Ruthie stared at the still shape on the ground. She didn't really want to see anything like that. But then she imagined calling the rangers to come check it out, in this weather, without even knowing if it was a person, much less whether he or she was alive or not. No, that wouldn't do.

Come on, Ruthie. You can handle blood and guts. You do it all the time. Used to, anyway.

Although, to be fair, handling it at work was one thing. In her own backyard was another.

Leaving the wheelbarrow behind, she stepped cautiously toward the shape. The closer she got, the more her heart inched up into her throat. It definitely looked like a person. She couldn't see any blood or entrails strewn around, so that was encouraging.

Now, after coming up close, she could see it definitely was a man. The snow layer was so thin she could make out the outline of his face. There was more snow beneath him than on top, so he couldn't have been here long. For the first time, she thought there might be a chance he was still alive. She pulled off a glove with her teeth and felt under his jaw for a pulse.

There! Stronger than she'd expected for anyone lying unconscious in the snow. A few snowflakes landed over his bluish, slightly parted lips and soon melted. Another good sign. She reached out and brushed the snow from his face, and her breath caught in her throat.

Holy crap. What was a male model doing clear out here? More importantly: why wasn't this idiot wearing a hat or gloves? And most importantly: why was he unresponsive?

Ruthie swept more snow off of him, working her way down from his neck. Halfway down his torso, she found the answer to her most important question. Deep gouges slashed through his coat and everything under it. The blood had mostly turned black. There were five cuts; the top one shorter than the others...almost as though it had been made by a thumb. As though a human hand had done this. Of course, that was impossible. Bear, maybe? No, he'd be in much worse shape if it had been a bear. Wolverine?

Her eyes jumped up to the surrounding woods. Was it still nearby? Had he fought it off? And seriously, what the hell was this pretty boy doing out here?

Whoever he was, she needed to get him inside and give him first aid, fast. The nearest ambulance was probably thirty miles away, and the snow was coming down harder now. She scanned the man again. One eighty-five if he weighed an ounce. She glanced back at the cabin. Fifty yards, give or take. Okay. How was she going to do this? She looked around for inspiration. Her eyes fell on the clearing, the woodpile-the wheelbarrow.

She'd have to make it work.