In Wilderness Found

Chapter 8: Radiating Confidence

The dog is baying furiously at a poplar tree and staring straight up into the branches. She turns to give quick glances between Madison and the tree. Finally, Madison sees the frustration behind the hound’s brown eyes as if she’s saying, “Come on, you idiot! Shoot!”

“Oh!” She looks up to find a squirrel, sitting high up in the branches, peering down on them as it flicks its bushy tail. “Oh gosh, Bluebell. I only have a pistol. I don’t believe I can aim well enough with it to reach him!”

After circling the tree several times, the dog realizes that Madison isn’t going to reward her find. She lets out a disappointed whine before prancing ahead, her nose to the ground, seemingly forgetting about the squirrel.

“Sorry, girl. Maybe you can find something a little closer? And on the ground?” Madison suggests, but the hound is not listening. She looks as if she’s now on a mission, so Madison just follows behind her blindly.

After about two minutes of trailing the dog, Madison notices the wilderness darkening all around them. There is no noise other than their own footsteps crunching along the forest floor, and the dog has picked up the pace. It should only be about 3 PM. 

Madison’s brows furrow together in confusion until she feels the first rain drops fall from above the trees and onto her hair.

By this time, the hound has found a dry spot underneath a colossal pine tree. She quickly settles underneath the protection of the branches and Madison follows suit.

“Bluebell, you knew this was coming?” She asks the dog with wide eyes, remembering how the hound had left the squirrel behind so easily to find a tree big enough for shelter, all before the rain even started to fall.

The dog settles herself across Madison’s lap and drops her head down. She doesn’t know if this position is meant to be more of a comfort to the animal or to her, but she doesn’t care much either way.

Thunder rocks the atmosphere in the distance and Madison watches lightning illuminate the sky above.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

A storm is brewing. Ellis watches the clouds darken above the cabin. The thick air is humid with the moisture starting to spill from the sky. 

Damn it, he thinks. Gal is still not home. She’d already spent a whole night and nearly the whole day today in the woods alone, and now she’ll be caught in a storm. He tries not to worry.

She’s smart and she’s tough. That hound has consumed countless hours in the wilderness on hunting trips and casual strolls, and Ellis knows she can probably take care of herself, but the lightning in the distance makes him uneasy. 

It was just so unlike her to stay gone like this. 

Unwilling to think of the possibility that she might be hurt or worse, Ellis hastily grabs his coat and throws on his leather boots. His hunting rifle is slung over his shoulder as he makes his way off the porch and towards the woods.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

It has been raining for hours, and the storm is showing no sign of letting up. It is only moving closer to Madison’s hiding spot under the pine tree.

She strokes the hound’s fur tenderly as a crack of thunder vibrates the air around them. The dog doesn’t seem to mind that Madison is using her ears as a distraction, softly playing with the long appendages as chaos from the storm swirls among the trees.

If this will just subside, maybe we can find some more water and a meal for tonight, Madison tries to think positive while she mindlessly fiddles with the dog’s ears.

Suddenly, a flash of white light flares in front of them so close that Madison is convinced she can feel the energy off of it. It takes her so by surprise that she lets out a scream, which startles the dog in her lap.

“Sorry, girl. That scared me,” Madison whispers as she hugs the hound to her chest.

It doesn’t take long for the predator to find them after that. 

The coyote comes from its nearby spot in a laurel thicket, and makes its way toward the screaming noise, paying no mind to the storm. It creeps slowly until it is in a crouching position facing the pine tree.

Madison spots it sooner this time, thanks to an uncanny bout of deja vu. She recognizes the frightening gray shape in front of them, even through the pelting rain, and she holds the dog in her lap tightly.

“Bluebell, don’t move.” She wills the dog to stay put, tightening her grip when the hound emits a growl that shudders out of her body and onto Madison’s. 

The coyote moves closer, obviously caring little for the way the rain has soaked and matted his thick fur. 

Despite Madison’s best efforts, the dog in her lap rises to reflect her body’s full height, and the tri-colored hair on the back of her neck stands on end. She is surprisingly taller than the coyote, but the bulkiness of his body gives away that he’s carrying much more mass.

If the way the hound barked at that squirrel was blood-curdling, then the howl she’s releasing now is sinister and deadly. Madison covers her ears as the dog moves to stand in front of her, facing the threat head-on. 

The coyote stands now, no longer crouching. Madison can almost see the wheels turning inside his furry head. Will this meal be worth it?, he must be thinking as he watches the hound dog.

While the hound and coyote continue their stare-off, Madison shuffles over to her satchel and yanks the .44 caliber pistol out. Without a second thought, she pulls the trigger in a warning shot.

The gunshot explodes through the air, sending the bullet skyward. Madison frowns as she realizes the thunder surrounding them is louder than the shot itself, and neither animal seems fazed by it.

Much to her horror, the hound advances toward the coyote who has still not moved.

“No!” Madison screams in panic, but the dog only radiates confidence as she fearlessly comes to a halt within five feet of the wild creature. Her head dips low and she lets out another terrifying howl.

An obvious exchange of threat passes between the two creatures before the coyote bares its teeth and makes a quick move forward, clearly deciding the outcome will be worth the fight.

Madison stands to watch the animals collide underneath the rapid rainfall. The colors of their fur blur as they crash together in a show of teeth and dominance. After several minutes of vicious back and forth, the weight of the coyote trumps the hound’s taller stature, and he pins her to the wet moss beneath them. 

“No, no, no, no,” Madison’s murmurs helplessly as she watches the dog struggle underneath the coyote’s angry gray figure.

Somehow, after a moment more of being wrestled, a long white leg swoops around the coyote’s neck and the hound manages to wiggle out of the feral creature’s grasp, pushing him away from her as she does.

Madison can see the blood from where she stands underneath the tree. Both animals appear to be bleeding from various body parts, yet neither are backing down. As they both rest from their scuffle, they revert back to glaring at each other, teeth exposed.

The thunder has started to quiet, and Madison can sense the hard rainfall beginning to go slack. She looks down at the pistol still in her hand. The next shot won’t be a warning.