Total pages in book: 47
Estimated words: 44191 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 221(@200wpm)___ 177(@250wpm)___ 147(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 44191 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 221(@200wpm)___ 177(@250wpm)___ 147(@300wpm)
She started drawing pictures in the dirt with a stick. That’s when the gunshot made her squeal. With her heart racing, she grabbed the binoculars and looked out in the direction of the three men. Her breathing picked up, nausea swirling in her gut. They’d killed a bear. She saw it lying there, clear as day, and they were celebrating. She’d come to take a picture, not kill or take a trophy.
Bear hunting was strictly prohibited. Poachers were actually a recurring theme on the evening news. Poachers sold bear parts on the black market for top dollar. That’s when the realization hit her. They weren’t there to take pictures. Those men were probably the illegal poachers the authorities were looking for. Fear spiked through her veins. What could she do?
Poppy hated to see animals suffer. It was her weakness. She couldn’t count how many injured birds and stray cats she’d brought back to health in her basement apartment. This was different. Those men had guns, and they were known to be dangerous. She was helpless to prevent them from hurting the animals. And if they knew she was there, it would not be good for her. She moved away from the edge to stay out of sight.
That’s when she came up with a plan. Any thoughts of a prized photo vanished from her mind completely. Her mission now was to get some high-resolution photos of the poachers and bring them to the police. She could single-handedly help the wildlife in these mountains from being exploited. This felt so much more honorable, and she felt renewed purpose fill her with much-needed energy.
She started setting up her camera, screwing on her extended lenses. Her stomach grumbled, but she ignored it. She brushed away the debris from the edge with her foot, then settled down on her stomach with her camera. Her nerves and adrenaline were on high as she focused on the horrible scene. She began snapping pics. Pics of the scene. Pics of the men. Pics of their crime.
That’s when she felt someone grab her ankle.
Poppy screamed like she’d never screamed before. Her nerves were already shot, and she was surprised her heart didn’t stop beating completely. She whirled around to her back, ready to kick, her camera falling over the side of the cliff. It was just enough time to see a racoon scurrying off. She dropped her head down, staring up at the forest canopy as she tried to catch her breath. Just a curious raccoon. It probably smelled her snacks.
The voices from across the way carried to her in the silence.
Poppy grabbed her binoculars and looked to the clearing. They’d heard her. The men were pointing at her. One looking directly at her with his own high-powered binoculars. One of them fired a shot in her direction. An actual gunshot. As in, they wanted to kill her.
Oh my God.
She was all alone and completely vulnerable. And her evidence was down the cliff. She leaned over the edge and looked down. She exhaled in relief when she saw her camera stuck on a protruding root. It had the evidence she needed. Without it, this was all for nothing.
Poppy wiggled to the edge, reaching with her arm as much as she could without falling over the side herself. She still couldn’t reach. The men were gone, and she knew they were probably trying to find her now. So, she didn’t have much time. Tears of fear and frustration filled her eyes.
“Please,” she chanted, as she kept reaching, an inch more at a time. It was a long fall if she went over the edge. No way would she survive it.
****
Wilder had been watching this group of poachers for days. Humans had been trespassing on his territory for many months, but this was sacred land. He wasn’t able to stop them in time from killing a sow with cubs. It tore his heart apart to witness it. And all he felt was rage. He hated humans. Hated tourists. Hated hunters.
But now the poachers’ interest shifted to another human in the forest. He’d tracked the scent to a lone female. Wilder never involved himself with humans. He’d help an injured fox, but a wounded hiker could die in the wilderness for all he cared.
But for some reason his bear wanted him to intervene, to help the girl who’d just fallen over the side of the cliff. If the hunters were shooting at her, then maybe she wasn’t the enemy. He looked over the cliff, those big blue eyes staring back up at him. She started to scream when he reached out to help her.
“Relax. I’m not a hunter. I’m trying to save you from dying.”
Wilder reached down to where she was holding onto a root with a death-grip and easily pulled her up to solid ground. He was the most powerful animal in the forest, his grizzly unmatched in strength. Against human weapons, he was still at a loss.