As I take a moment to catch my breath, I note that my fur helps me keep afloat. It’s probably what helped get to the surface. I must have been deep from the dive off the boat for it to have taken that long.
My fur also keeps me insulated - at least, for now. It’s a long way to shore, although I can see it in the distance. The sea is choppy, and I know what lurks beneath.
I would be a nice snack for some of these creatures, and I waste no more time hanging around here. Pointing my nose towards land, I doggie-paddle as fast as I can.
Moving my legs, I notice something wrong with my right hind leg. It’s a light twinge, but the icy water soothes it, so I can’t tell what’s wrong with it. I can still use it, but it gets weaker the closer to shore I get.
After a while, the icy fingers of the water find their way into my undercoat. The moment it touches my skin, my body temperature drops, and I’m now in danger of cold incapacitation or hypothermia.
The shore is close. I have to reach it within the next half an hour, or I’ll be dead. My heart pounds from the effort of paddling and from trying to keep me warm.
The danger of having a heart attack is real - it’s one of the main reasons people die in freezing water. Now, all thoughts of creatures of the deep are forgotten as I fixate on the shore half a mile away.
Paddle, breathe, paddle. The mountains and the forest loom large ahead of me, and it drives me on. So close now. The breakers crash against the wild shore, and I search frantically for a smooth point for me to climb out of the water.
Rocks everywhere I look. I’ll be smashed to bits. The current has me, now, pulling me towards those dark, jagged boulders. There is a lighter patch further left; beach, maybe.
I change direction, but now I’m fighting the current. It’s taking the last of my strength, and it’s agonizingly slow progress. The rocks come closer, and the crashing of the waves against them is deafening in my ears.
The rising of the waves pick me up, letting me see for a moment before they dump me back down into the trough. Every time I’m at the crest, I make another adjustment to the left, fighting the current.
I’m almost there. The waves break over me now, and I swallow water with every second wave. It’s getting harder. The rocks are to my right. So close.
The next wave tumbles me. I lose sight of the shore. Something smacks into my ribs and drives the breath from my lungs. The pain stuns me for a moment, and the wave takes me along with it.
The wave lifts me again, and I’m right next to the edge of the rocks. I paddle like a mad-man, so I don’t get smashed into them again. The beach is right there - miles of it stretching to my left.
Another wave picks me up, and it pushes me beyond the reach of the rocks and finally into calmer waters. There are still waves here, but they are not as angry as those on the other side of the reef.
My ribs scream at me as I continue to paddle. It’s another fifty yards to shore, and when I finally reach it, I drag myself onto the sand. My right hind leg protests as it feels my weight on land, and I collapse, but I don’t care.
I don’t know for how long I lie there, but when it gets dark, I heave myself off the ground. I need to find shelter. My coat has dried - mostly - and although I am weak, at least I have rested.
The moment I stand up, I become aware of the full extent of my injuries - leg, ribs, probably a concussion. I can barely walk, I have trouble breathing and moving my torso, and my head hurts.
The forest beckons, and I get there, eventually. I make myself walk as far into the forest as my body allows and then look for a place where I can rest for the night.
Strangely, the smell of diesel fumes lingers here, and I stumble across a narrow dirt road - finally, a break. I can follow this to Juneau in the morning, and I start looking for somewhere to sleep close to the road.
A noise behind me warns me that I am not alone anymore. My fur bristles, and my instincts kick in when the smell hits my nose - rancid, wild, dangerous.
I spin around and dig my claws into the soft soil of the forest. Across the road, a black bear swings his head from left to right, testing the air with his nose.
He huffs and takes a few steps towards me. I have no beef with this beast, and if this is his territory, then I will leave. I drop my head in submission and retreat.
The bear huffs again and shuffles after me. I move away as fast as my injuries allow, but the bear isn’t satisfied with my retreat. He roars, baring his massive teeth.
I scramble, hobbling along as best I can, now running along the road. The bear comes after me. I don’t need four legs to run - three can work - but I do need my lungs, and right now, I have a rib sticking into one of them. At least, that’s what it feels like.
The bear roars again, and he’s right behind me. The sound makes me tuck my tail between my legs; he’s so close. Then, my legs disappear from under me, and I somersault across the street and come to a sliding stop across the dirt.
Blood pours from a wound in my left leg where the bear swiped at it. It’s completely useless, and I use my front legs to pull myself forwards. The bear follows me.
All I can think right now is that Johnson and Moore will never find me now. I’m sorry, Leah. I’m not going to be able to keep my promise.
The black bear stands up as he reaches me. He bellows his anger into the dark forest, and spittle flies from his mouth. As he comes back down, he lands on me with his front paws, and his dagger-like claws dig into my soft belly.
Red hot pain shoots through me all at once, and I know it’s over. The bear grunts, sniffs me, and then walks away as if nothing happened.
I pant, shallow breaths, but I’m dizzy. I turn to look down at myself, and all I see is blood. There is nothing I can do. I lay my head on the ground and close my eyes.
‡‡
“Kimberly!” My father’s bellow is particularly impatient this morning.
I’ve already seen to the bitches, been to the nursery, and done the rest of my morning chores. It’s breakfast time for me now.
“Kimberly,” he yells, again, more urgent, now.
“Okay, okay, I’m coming.”
I drop the spoon into my oats and put my boots on. Out in the yard, my father stands with Anthony Wilson beside his truck. He’s come to collect Rover today, as the Lab is finally feeling better.
“Hurry,” Dad shouts across, “we need you.”
My heart speeds up. Did something happen to Rover?
“What’s wrong?”
Both men run around to the back of Anthony’s truck, and I follow.
“I found him on my way to you. I thought he’s one of yours,” Anthony says.
“Oh, my God.” I clutch my chest when I see what he’s got in the back of his truck.
“It’s not ours,” Dad says. He’s all choked up. “It sure needs help.”
It takes me another moment to get myself together, and then I’m all business-like.
“Get a blanket,” I order the men. “And, call Connor to help you carry him. He looks big. I’ll get the nursery ready.”
The men hustle, and I race to the nursery. Rover wags his tail when he sees me, but I don’t have time for him now. Artemis is no longer here, so I prepare the space for our newcomer.
He’s pretty mangled, so I’m not sure what he is, but he looks like he could be a wolfhound - definitely no Husky.