Home -- Wolv book 3

Twelve - Abrams' Stage

I crept through the overgrowth, ducking down beneath dry branches and dragging my belly across the moist ground, gently bringing myself to a halt as the forest ended.

Before me, only mere feet away, the grass and leaf-lined forest floor finally ended as well, coming to an abrupt halt as a narrow, sandy beach began. The sand was dark and full of dirt, almost melding together with the black waters of the lake that lay just beyond. Several wet, grey boulders jutted up from the surface of Gyles Lake around the beach, making the shoreline look rugged and inhospitable.

I cocked my head, silently observing the scene. The muddy beach encircled a large bay, which stretched out nearly half a kilometer before opening up into the expanse of Gyles lake. To my right, on the eastern edge of the bay, the forest opened up, revealing a long, muddy landing strip, ringed with tall, brittle prairie grasses. A tiny, wooden shed stood guard at the end of the runway, just meters from the waters edge.

A yellow bush plane was tied down next to the shed, its belly plastered with bits of grass and mud, no doubt from the sad excuse of a runway on which it had landed.

To my left, almost directly opposite across the bay to the landing strip, sat a grandiose, two-storey, log-hewn fishing lodge. I blinked at the structure, not quite believing that something so large could remain so hidden. It's location in the park was incredibly remote, yet it had all the hallmarks of a high-tier outback escape--despite the muddy beach and the dark appearance of the water, a boat dock stretched out from the shoreline, with two small motor boats moored to it, along with an old, silver float plane. The lodge itself looked clean and well kept; windows were clear and reflective, and even the shingles on the roof lay flat and crisp, as though they were new.

I felt Machk rustle around next to me. "This is the place," he whispered into my ear. He looked over at the tiny bush plane, sitting in the mud. "Looks like we've got 'em trapped."

"Why's that?" I kept my voice down as well, speaking just above a whisper. No one would hear us talking amongst our selves, to be sure--but it was entirely possible that they would hear the quiet growls by which we communicated, at which point our cover would obviously  be blown.

Machk nosed at the filthy runway. "Look at that plane. It looks mired in that mud! Whoever's here isn't going anywhere...unless they use those boats. Either way, this is a good thing. No one's gonna be flying away on us again!"

I twitched my ears, focusing my eyes on the two little boats and the float plane, sitting motionless on the placid water. Abrams managed to survive once before. He got away--and look where we are now!

"We can't take any chances," I muttered. "This guy has cheated death before. An' your forgettin' about that float plane!"

"No, I wasn't forgettin' about it. We're gonna have to cut'em all loose before we do anything--then we'll have them stuck here good!" Machk furrowed his brow, and looked from himself, to Daanis, and finally to me. "You. Go cut those boats loose. Do the plane first."

"What? Why me?!?"

"Because you're the smallest one here. Less chance that anyone will see you!"

I raised an eyebrow at the timberwolf. "Look at my fur, idiot. It's blonde. I'll stick out like a sore thumb!"

"Then you better not get caught. Don't worry, we've got your back." I felt his paw on my rump, pushing me forward and out from my cover. Daanis hissed at him warningly, but I was already stumbling out onto the muddy beach.

Even the bloody sand here contrasts my fur color! Anyone who's got eyes will see me if they look my way! I grimaced and lowered myself down to the ground, scurrying forward into the water. I began paddling forward through the cold, keeping only the top of my head and my nose above the water as I silently swam towards the dock.