Hitchhikers (Wolf Point #1)

-50-

Something is tickling my face. It's wet, and dripping, and sliding down my cheeks and rolling into my ears. I shake my head because opening my eyes seems like it might be too much work. That's when I realize I can't feel half my face. It's buried in snow.

I open my eyes.

At first all I see is white, but after I push my face away from the ground, I can see the sky, bright blue, through the canopy of pine branches over my head. Snow is melting and dripping into my face.

It's a struggle to get up, pushing myself up only to have the snow collapse beneath me. I try rolling once – only once – the movement sends a spike of pain up my leg and leaves me gasping for breath for a few moments.

I fell, I think. I vaguely remember falling. My leg could have twisted or something and I might not have felt it with the cold.

I manage to twist around to get a look at the damage.

To say that it's a little more serious than a twisted ankle is an understatement.

There's blood. Not much – not like when I black out and become wolf – just a little on my pants and on the snow around where the steel trap has clamped on my leg.

Back to face down. Breathe. Try not to vomit into the snow.

(it looks like it's almost severed my leg)

I'm alone. Kayla is far behind now, and my trail is buried under the snow. Could she hear me if I yelled?

(would something Other hear me?)

There's nothing around but a blanket of white, unless you could the trees all standing around, watching my misery. Imagine if I had stuck with Kayla, her lugging me all the way back to Montana with my busted leg. Better that I'm alone, I suppose.

Options. There are always options. Maybe I'm not some warrior hero, and maybe I'm not real good at taking care of my well-being, but I managed to survive for three years. I can survive this. I think.

First things first: I can't do a whole hell of a lot lying face down in the snow.

(this is gonna hurt like a bitch)

I don't have a stick to put in my mouth like they do in the movies to stop themselves from screaming or biting off their tongues or whatever, but I have a scarf. I bite down.

Fast, or slow. One rip of pain, or a slow burn with less probable damage. Maybe I'm stupid, but I'd rather not tear my leg open to the bone

(if it isn't already done)

by flopping over. I struggle to my knees. I arc myself in a Twister-crazy move so my upper half is flipped but I'm kind of supporting myself on my right leg and with my free arm I'm struggling to twist the trap along with my leg. It sticks in the snow and I have to rock it

pain pain pain

Finally it gives and flips and I collapse and there's still a giant howl of pain muffled by my scarf which echoes a little bit.

I pant until I can breathe without whimpering.

It takes a while. Hard to tell how long. Maybe half an hour.

Now that I can sit up and see

(still looks gory as hell)

I try to think of how to get out of this. The trap looks pretty strong. I've never tried to pry open a steel trap, but this one's got a good grip on my leg. I'd rather not work at prying it open and then lose my grip and have it snap back on and snap my leg off in the process. Plus, even if I got the trap far enough open to get my leg out, I'm not entirely sure I can move my leg. The foot part feels really numb.

All around me is white snow. Nothing to use as a tool within arm's reach. Nothing to eat. Nothing to drink. I think of that family, the one that got trapped in their car in a snowstorm. A father, a mother, and a baby. The mother kept the baby alive by eating snow so she could breast feed. The baby lived. The father lived. The mother died. The snow lowered her body temperature so much that she froze to death.

So, I won't eat the snow.

(but I'm so thirsty)

I don't know how long I stare at my leg caught in the trap. The sun has moved across the sky, the shadows have shifted. I should feel cold, but I don't. I'm numb. I lie down and stare up at the clouds as they scroll across the sky.

When darkness falls, I allow myself to fall asleep.