Chapter 31

The Jack Pines towered overhead, their black branches ragged against the night sky. Nathan looked up to ground himself. Thankfully, it was mostly clear, the moon showing through the dark embroidery the conifers etched against the sky.

He kept up a soft monologue to the pup, to soothe it, let it know it wasn’t alone. Aimed his words at the soft fur on his head. “Won’t be long now, buddy. We’re almost there.”

No reaction.

Haste was of the utmost importance now.

And then, the light he’d been depending on failed. Just stopped. He didn’t know if it was the batteries—they were new—or if it was a faulty connection. He tried to get the damn thing going, slapped it against his knee, unscrewed it quickly, but couldn’t.

The deadfall around him was deep. How was he going to find Amy’s cabin, in the pitch dark, even as the moon played hide-seek with the clouds that had floated on to the scene?

He stared ahead, and in the darkness, a little pinprick of light flickered.

Hell, he hoped it was her cabin. She’d described where it was, and so vividly, that he’d almost seen it in his mind’s eye.

But navigating through a forest devoid of even the minutest shades of color was a bitch. And dangerous.

But still that light shimmered, far off in the distance.

Had to be hers.

Carefully watching the path and that light, he struck out once again.